in honesty

Friday, December 18, 2015

I have this desire to be the perfect wife, the perfect mom, the perfect teacher. In this utopia of mine, the house would always be clean, I would always look presentable (you know, not in yoga pants and a side braid), the baby would be happy, and there would be no to-do list at work. I would have my shit together.

I do not live even remotely like this.

My house is a mess. I'm ready to chop off my hair. I've worn makeup once in the past four months, and I'm beginning to get nasty-grams at work telling me to turn my stuff in. There is a solid chance I'm just going to donate everything in my house because I am so sick and tired of clutter and junk. My sweet husband keeps asking why I can't remember the simplest of things, and looks at me sometimes like I'm losing it.

Because I am.

I am fried. I am depressed. I am stretched thin.

On top of being a wife, a mom, and a teacher, there are a hundred other things to do. My Texas teacher licensure must be done in order to be hired within districts. Said districts have timelines on how long you can work on an application before automatically deleting them, and those deadlines are, like, this week. So it's a toss up at work: finish my RTI folders, or finish my district application? There are a hundred little things going on at home and work that have me feeling like I'm in a losing battle and winning isn't in the cards for me. And I swear, if my students tell me one more time, "I can't." ... I don't even know what will happen but there's a solid chance I will go bat shit crazy.

I'm convinced some moms are just good at being a working mom and balancing (or juggling - I've heard balance is a myth from even the most awesome of working moms) responsibilities. I am definitely not that mom.

Fake it 'til you make it. 

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