Easter was Sunday. I should have been into it. But I just wasn't.
We didn't go to church. I didn't hide Easter eggs for Natalie. I didn't even put together an Easter basket. I have no Easter photos to put in her baby book.
I feel like a big, fat failure of a mother right now.
I was in a funk last week, angry at my husband, my child and the world in general. Tired of doing laundry, planning and preparing meals, and being the sole adult responsible for the care of a two-year-old in the midst of a very challenging phase.
So I sulked and I lashed out. I got angry and used hurtful words. I clammed up and escaped.
And now I'm standing on the other side of it all and when I turn around all I see is the wreckage that I've created in my life. Bewildered family members, a frustrated husband and a little girl without any Easter memories to go in her scrapbook.
And then I stop myself.
Am I really upset the MOST about the pictures? Is that the measure of what a mother is these days?
I didn't post any Easter pictures to Facebook, Instagram or this blog....so does that make me a "bad" mother.....because that's sure how I feel.
I LOVE social media because I get to see pictures of friends and family that I might not see otherwise.
I LOATHE social media because when you're already feeling a little down in the dumps, it's easy to get onto FB or Instagram and see how everyone else in the world is living such a better life than you.
And of course, I could be a little over-dramatic...narcissistic even. Perhaps my family doesn't really care that I had a crappy week. I know Craig forgives me and Natalie was utterly unfazed. But my harshest critic has always been and will always be....myself. My mistakes and missteps mean FAR more to me than to anyone else.