6 Hours

My next post was going to be about the number 6. You see Jack tends to forget 6 when he counts. This does not worry me in the least but Christian was a little concerned. I wanted to prove Jack was fine and so Jack and I had a talk about how number 6 was feeling excluded and could he please start using 6 when he counts. And now he does although sometimes he confuses 7 and 11. I was going to blog about how my belief is it doesn't matter if a three year-old can count or say his ABC's and that really it is just the parent's ego driving the desire to have their kids be able to do such things at an early age. A little self-righteous? Yes! A little mean? Most definitely. 

And instead I thought I would talk about 6 in a different way. I cannot remember the last time I got 6 hours of uninterrupted sleep. Can. Not. Remember. For me 6 hours is the magic number where I can be a decent person. Which basically means I have felt indecent over the last four years where I may get that amount of sleep three nights out of a month. And it leaves me wondering...do the rest of you moms feel the same way or is this just me? 

My big accomplishment for today? I didn't sit down and cry in the middle of Jack's preschool drop off. Being just so tired that Grace throwing a fit about not wanting a jacket and Jack refusing to take off his pajamas and get dressed pushed me over the edge. I just wanted to sit down and cry. 

Now just writing that has me feeling judged. I guess that is because when I look at other moms they seem to have it all together. The beautiful family photo on their Facebook page. Their kid doesn't miss the 6. Their house is always cleaned and organized. They are dressed impeccably. They do crafts. They work full-time and still get it all done. They stay home and are actually grateful for the blessing. They would NEVER blog about feeling overwhelmed and exhausted because somehow they have it all figured out.

And I won't even talk about the guilt I feel just talking about this. I mean I live in the first world, in a pretty house in a nice town with a great husband and beautiful healthy children. Just saying that I am overwhelmed in spite of all this privilege makes me feel ungrateful and whiney. 

But the truth is that I am overwhelmed and sometimes even bored and isolated. I sometimes crave a paid job like a fat kid craves a doughnut. And somedays I just want someone else to do it all. And often I don't offer to host the play date because I don't want to feel judged by other women. And I pretend to be happy because God forbid I admit (on a blog for all the internet to see) that sometimes I am not very good at this job. 

But, when I get a full night of uninterrupted sleep I don't feel that way at all. And then I wonder, do the rest of you ever feel this way? Or is it just me?