Motherhood

There are days when I don't want to be a mom. Especially a single mom, with sole responsibility for everything and everyone (all 2 of us, plus dogs and a fish). There are days when I want to be selfish and go to bed when I'm tired, do what I want to, live for me, instead of spending an hour comforting a kid who doesn't know what's wrong but just feels lonely and cries. There are days when I'm more a provider of necessities than a carer of growing souls. There are days when I live past my child, knowing that I'm all he has and knowing I should be doing better. There are days when I wonder if he wouldn't have had a better life if I HAD given him up for adoption to a 2-parent home. There are days when I don't know what it is to love, and can't remember if I ever did. There are days (too many of them) when I don't want to hug and kiss him, and that's all he wants. There are days when I read the blogs of other mothers, other women, and wonder why I never feel like that, why I'm never able to just let go and be the kind of mom everyone else seems to be. There are days when the only thing keeping me going is the knowledge that I'm all there is, and someone has to be there. There are days that I plod through, not doing enough, not spending enough time, not being completely present. There are days that I want to run away from it all.

Last night was one of those days.