We were MIA since few days from all things social media. Coz I guess I was exhausted. sometimes it happens, my mind just doesn’t want to take in one bit more. It goes into shut down mode & then I go around doing daily duties like a zombie. Uninspired & unfeeling. I can’t even care to look at others posts coz even that seems like too much effort. It’s not considered ok to talk about our failures & imperfections; at least that’s what I thought while growing up. I was so eager to attain that image of perfect, which was inside my own head, that I never let my guard down. We believe that mental pressure only means being mad(clinically); what we don’t accept at all as the fact is that depression & anxiety has various levels & forms. God forbid, anybody would talk about it though. And motherhood? Truth is, we mothers are always worried that we aren’t the “Perfect Mom”

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But I started writing when I realised that my life as a mother is not perfect and that I want to share my failures too. I wish I could write long paragraphs on how I control my anger when my kid throws a tantrum. But sometimes I don’t. I wish I could extol on my abilities of being patient, smiling & never once wishing that my life was different. But I am not that person. I am not the perfect mom.

Does that mean I am not a good mother?

But saying this will mean that I am not a good mother, that I am not happy with my life. But that’s not true either. Yet sometimes I feel uninspired, tired & unmotivated. I love my child fiercely; everyday I love him more. I learn to get better & more patient. Caring was, a virtue I had, patience I am learning. But no way am I the Perfect mom yet.

My Journey has some imperfect moments too

I have always shared the trails of motherhood which made me laugh & here I found others, who related to my situation. I am not the perfect mom, I wish I was but I am not. The squares I post are the perfect moments out of many of the moments of the day. I don’t share the worst moments; where everything is ugly. Neither do I share the best ones; where everything is lovely & just blissful. Both of these moments are too private for me to share. The ones I do share are the chosen ones; albeit they are real too.

I know the pressure of being perfect, of not admitting to guilt, of being ashamed to own up to my own fears. But the truth is life, love, family & relationships; these are to be thankful for ; yet they cause pain too.

Baby A slipped & fell & cut his head two days ago. Thankfully, It’s a superficial wound, but it bled a bit. He is ok now. He runs all the time & keeps jumping around but it was me who let him walk out of the bathroom without drying his feet. I let him go while I washed my hands. And he ran, slipped & fell. It was a momentary mistake. Of all the times that I am worried while he jumps around, I let him go without drying his feet.

The Motherhood Guilt

How you feel when your child gets hurt? I can’t write about that. But the sinking feeling of guilt accompanied by this morbid fear of what ifs; what if he falls again?

I know kids fall & get hurt too. I did too. But I had no clue how my parents felt all the time when they still let me go out & let me grow up out in the world. Sometimes the fear of things going wrong, the mishaps around the world, the frailty of life itself, it gets to be too much. It’s ok to go into the cocoon once in a while; to brood a little & to let the dark clouds take over. I slept badly, felt tired & then an old friend called. We laughed. Today I smiled again at an inside joke & found more funny during the day. I was still not the perfect mom but I am ok.

I am not a perfect mom

Just saying; my pics are at times perfect; my life is too. But please know that all of us have imperfect too. If you at times feel like you are alone in being imperfect, then do remember me & share with me your imperfect.

I am here in my true colours. Even if these colours are not the trend of the day. But grey is also a colour and it exists with some of us.

I am also a working mother and read here about the woes of a Working Mother

Until Next time,

Love, Smita

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