Mother

Its odd to title a blog post after a Danzig (the wannabe prince of darkness of Lodi NJ)song, but since its my mother's day blogging...appropriate title.
I will admit for years I hated mother's day. It was bittersweet for me, because I had always wanted to be a mom. People who have never dealt with infertility could never understand how horrible that day could be. Its yet another reminder of not being able to do the one thing that for most women is so natural-and in some cases way too natural-and another layer of heartbreak.
Despite my dream coming true, its still a little bittersweet for me on mother's day. I love my son desperately, and the little gifts he made in school last week are so perfect. He made flowers out of his hand prints that I am going to put in my office on Monday. He also wrote a book, If You Give the Puppy Dog a Bath, which really made me smile beyond belief. He's so talented.
I am the one who has gotten the greatest gift of all-my little man. He's such an incredibly wonderful boy and growing by leaps and bounds every day. Despite a lot of boyness (the fascination with bodily functions for one), there is also a lot of sensitivity and love in him. His laughter and smile can light up the room, and cheer me up whenever I am in a bad mood.
I feel bad that there are times when I am just frustrated and yell at him. I don't like that side of me, and I feel like I am Bad Mommy. I try so hard to not lose my cool, but sometimes like a volcano I erupt. The mornings are the hardest, trying to get us both ready and out the door in a timely manner. I try so hard not to yell, but when I've told him for the 40th time to get up, get dressed and brush his teeth, I'm really ready to go ballistic.
Its not pretty, and I feel bad about it.
There is a lot of frustration in my life-for one not feeling like I am doing an adequate job as a wife and homemaker. Then there is the frustration of not being able to be all that I want to be. Some of my friends have suggested that I scale back my expectations or hire a maid, but neither of those options really pan out for me. I want to do it all-and some days I am really successful at it, others not so much. I know that the big man isn't overly thrilled at how I keep a home, and its been a source of tension for about 17 or so years. I try really hard, and sometimes I think that if I just "got it" he'd be really happy and all would be well. I think that the day they handed out the homemaking gene I was absent. It doesn't come naturally to me.
But there are things that do come naturally, and that's what makes me unique. I am a talented scrapbooker and crafter. I am a pretty darn good cook, and can whip up some pretty good stuff out of seemingly nothing. I can bake pretty well too. I am fairly well organized and detail oriented. I can dress up a pretty plain outfit with the right accessories (I've been told time and time again from a whole variety of people that I always look put together-no matter how scattered I was feeling at the time). I am a voracious reader, and I think I'm a pretty good writer too.
But today, as a mom, I vow to try harder to be the best mother I can possibly be to my son. I want him to grow up with happy memories of me, not feeling like I am some sort of screaming lunatic or something. I want him to be proud of me, and to not be embarrassed by me. I want him to think that I am pretty, and that he will compare other women to me (that I am the gold standard) I am trying to not sound too full of myself, but that's what I think a mom should be. I want to do things with him, and enjoy the time together. I don't want to be thinking of 500 million other things, and just focus on him. I want to make more of an attempt to be calm, cool and collected in the mornings and to have happy family time.