It’s so funny how much of a ROLLERCOASTER parenting is.

I went to bed after typing this post. 

And then Ishu woke me up at 2am.

At 4am, after nearly 2 hours of gently trying to soothe him back to sleep, I screamed into my pillow and stormed out of the room. My go-to coping strategy, of course, is to stomp over to the fridge, throw it open, and start inhaling food. Food soothes.

So, I pulled out some leftovers from dinner the night before. Ishu came in, running after me, pulling at my pants. 

I threw the leftovers in the microwave and tried to talk myself out of picking up Ishu and plopping him into the sink’s garbage disposal.

He finally let go of me and grabbed a hold of the cabinet handles, opening and closing them, banging them over and over again.

I pulled my food out of the microwave and SLAMMED it shut. 

I knew I was about to lose my shit so I needed to put some space in between me and Ishu. 

But, of course, he followed me into the living room. Pulled at me. Wanting me to hold him and then wanting me to put him down. Wanting to push me and then wanting to reel me in. 

SO MUCH BACK AND FORTH.

I could feel myself shaking. Could feel myself on the brink of tears. 

Ankur walked out of the bathroom and tried to engage with Ishu to give me some space. I stood up and walked into the kitchen and let the tears fall.

In that moment, I felt like such a victim. 

A sleep-deprived victim.

Under normal circumstances, I can be a better version of myself. But I am TIRED. I am TIRED of being woken up so many damn times. TIRED of having to keep my composure when all I want to do is scream and cry right alongside my toddler.

My therapist tells me that I have a tendency to try to “wrap a bow around things.” That I want to finish a story. Have a happy ending. Have a hard moment and then turn it around and find the silver lining so I can appear okay. 

But her homework for me this week? 

Let myself be messy.

Life isn’t perfectly packaged items tucked away in a perfectly sized box. It’s not perfect piles organized and arranged systematically.

Life is messy and unfinished. 

And, while I can find ways to cope (food in the moment, a workout once Bella got to our house and took over), I don’t have to find a silver lining. I don’t have to present as if everything is OK.

I can feel dysregulated and not feel rushed to regulate myself.

Because I’m still tired. I still feel fragile and angry at moments. And honestly, I feel a LOT of guilt. My little baby’s brain is under construction. He has no idea how to rationalize things and when I join in his tantrum, I know I’m making things worse. 

So the guilt eats at me most.

That’s it.

I don’t have a sparkly bow to end this post. I don’t have a lesson. 

I’m just putting the truth out there. That some days, I’m killing it at the mom game. And some days it feels like I fail miserably.