Not Worth Sharing

There are certain things I just don't want to share. I mean, I'd share so much if I knew that my mother and other relatives would be OK with reading news about my stress. AKA money issues that arise from time to time.

Instead of causing anyone else's brow to furrow (mine is enough), I will spare unnecessary details and just say that our life since the move has been tight financially. (That wasn't so hard, and the point was still made. Cool.)


To help ease the burden, I started teaching an online course in November. Thankfully, it - the course, the pain, the trauma - ends mid-February. As much as I love teaching writing and think I am good at my job, I've basically hated teaching writing. While also being a stay-at-home mom.

I am no supermom, even though they do seem to exist. I, for one, am not her. She is not me. It is an animal from a different species.

I am trying to be OK with this knowledge, but sometimes, I fall short. In recent weeks, I've pounded, raked, and beaten various metaphorical objects and parts of my body to find an answer as to why I cannot do it all. To why it isn't a breeze for me to keep up with one frickin English class while raising a tiny child.

The only way I can explain it to myself is that people's energy levels vary greatly. Or, the energy I expend taking care of my child is greater - or lesser - than that of other moms.

When I think of it this way, I am OK with it. OK that I will never wear a cape or be listed as a supermom by some lousy editor from Parent magazine who never had kids. 

I've blamed my lack of superheroness (don't you like it?) on age too. Maybe I am too old to do it all. Maybe if I were ten years younger, it wouldn't seem so daunting. I mean, I remember when staying up past eleven was easy. When it was perfectly fine to get to bed at 12:30 and get up at 5:00 to go teach a bunch of high school kids. Just writing this fact down makes my brain hurt. And makes me feel frickin old.

OK, I am rambling a bit now. I like getting older. I like needing time for me. I like needing to go to bed. I like that life changes and that we don't stay the same. That women wear motherhood differently.