freshly {b}rewed : Motherhood is hard

I've been awful at blogging lately. Not exactly on purpose. There have been days when I've been far too ~~tired~~ pregnant, there's been too much to do, and then there was yesterday when the toddler pulled the cord for the internet and the tv out of the wall, and I didn't realize it. Plus, I've just been a bit down on myself when it comes to motherhood, so I haven't felt up to writing.

Motherhood is hard. They tell you that when you're pregnant, but you don't really get it until you have to get up five times during the night to feed the baby that for some reason cries a whole lot. Then, somehow you may forget how hard it is until you have a toddler who hits and bites you whenever you bring him inside because, "Mom, why would you? It's my favorite place!" Doesn't matter that its 100+ degrees outside and your less than a month away from having another baby. Some days its just hard because of the fussing that takes place for reasons you don't even understand. Some days its just hard because of you and not the toddler. Honestly, that's how I'm feeling lately... like its hard because of me. I'm not impressed with the job I'm doing lately, not impressed with my mothering.

The other night as my husband and I were laying in bed talking I confessed this and some of my fears. Toddlerhood is hard. Braden is growing and learning. He desperately wants to be independent, which is a great thing, but there are some things, we, as parents, can't let him do. We can't let him get out of the tub himself because even though he thinks he's big enough, he's not. We can't let him just eat the m&ms in the trail mix because his teeth will root, we can't let him stand directly in front of the tv because it will hurt his eyes. But these things... he wants to do... and when we tell him no or take him away from it, he loses it. He kicks, he hits, he's bites, he screams. You know, all the normal toddler stuff. I look at him like I don't know him sometimes and a lot lately, I catch myself yelling.
"Braden, NO!"
"Stop it!"
"I'm not doing the fussing today!"
I hate the yelling... it makes me cringe. It makes it worse. It makes me feel like an awful mother. It also makes me fear that I am hurting him emotionally. That's probably one of my biggest fears. I don't ever want my son to feel like I don't love him, to feel like I don't care. I love him with only the love a mother could give her son. I'd do anything for him and I hope he comes to understand that as he grows. I hope he also comes to realize that everyone has bad days some days. He does. I do. We do, as parents. I hope he realizes that even though we have bad days - days of yelling, of being the people we don't want to be, but that doesn't mean, we don't love. Because we do, we love a whole lot.

Trying to be a better mom. Trying to have grace with myself and my sweet boy.