I know what you’re thinking. I can see it in your eyes and feel it in your frustrated little pleas. Mom isn’t paying attention to me. Mom is on her phone again. What is she doing? Why won’t she look up? Can you hear me? Can you see me? I want food. I want a movie. I want to go outside.
My darlings… I see you. I hear you. I love you. I’m sorry that today I am distracted.
I’m sorry that today I’m a less than perfect mom.
What you can’t possibly understand is that today isn’t a day where my love for you is less. Today is a day where mom is dreaming. Today is a day where I’m getting inspired on Instagram and fueled by Pinterest because they are retreats I can hold in one hand. Yes, I’m in a rabbit hole. Yes, I’m looking down. But these moments and these days where I feel unreachable are days where I’m actually reaching for more. Days were dishes and Disney don’t have a place and my mind needs room to expand.
I can’t always predict when it will creep up. This urge to be creative. This urge to grow my soul.
Yes, I feel guilty for not responding the second you want me to, but mom needs this. Mama needs to be able to dream big so that on days where I have to shrink up real small I can do so with a smile. You children are my world but some days my heart seeks out things beyond you and I know how frustrating that must be.
And so sometimes I put my phone down. I lock my dreams away and I build Legos. But other days I let my mind wander and I let myself imagine because in my heart of hearts I truly believe a mother who is fulfilled is a better mother for you even if in these days you feel agitated with my other pursuits.
I know that today. Here. In this moment. It feels mean. It feels like you don’t have my focus.
But so much of this I do for you.
I wonder how much more money I can make and what that means for what I can give you. I wonder if I give my focus to this thing that sets my soul on fire today if it means that tomorrow I’ll have more to give you.
If I fill my well I think it will spill over and fill yours. But trust me when I say I do know that days like this aren’t fun for you. That mommy’s days of dreaming are days where you feel the tinge of neglect. And trust that I am trying to balance my love for you with my desire to dream bigger for myself.
Know that I wince when I hand you an iPad and that I shudder as I let a movie you already watched this morning replay. My hope is that days like today will fall into the bank of days that you don’t remember when you’re older. I hope that the byproduct of my distraction is the creation of something/someone you admire and aspire to be like.
I’m sorry I’m absent while in the room. I’m not sorry though for having dreams for myself. I wish I could have my hopes without them ever taking away from you but I can’t.
Yesterday we played at the library and you had my full attention. No phone. No TV. No cleaning. Just you and me.
Today is different.
I’m just trying to give us both what we deserve and I don’t always know how. Forgive me.