I get these surges of energy with everything in my life. It includes working out, where I truly believe that I am going to keep with it this time. Hence why we have a two thousand dollar elliptical machine in our basement that is collecting dust. I also get into reading at random times, which is why I joined a book club but really only meet to get together and drink wine with friends and gossip/catch up on our lives. The surges of energy also explains why my kids’ lives are documented so well for the first year of their lives in scrapbook format. It also explains why I have multiple posts on this blog in a short amount of time. I get into a groove with something and think, wow, what a great idea. Or I get a writers bug and start writing like crazy. But does this apply to motherhood? Oh hell, yes.
I always look at Pinterest for fun ideas. Lately, I looked for “summer creative ideas for kids” to try and get rid of any summer blues since my kids weren’t at daycare for the entire time. In the process, I started to doubt how many things I should be doing with them (see earlier blog about simplicity). I had all of these high hopes of doing all of the creative things with my kids that they would probably love. This also applies to simple everyday tasks, too, though. When my eldest wants to play a board game (or God forbid, I even SUGGEST it) or my youngest wants me to call them on the phone to play pretend, I think, okay, I’ll do it. But literally halfway in, or even when the cards are laid out or the phone is at my ear, I think, sonofabitch, I have to do this, really? Maybe it’s my lack of imagination, as it has waned over the years, or maybe it’s just exhaustion, but I just suddenly feel like, fuck, I gotta do this?
I remember being younger and playing Barbies for the longest time as a girl. Like, hiding them from your friends long, to the point where I lied about it. No, I don’t play Barbies anymore, that’s for babies! And then I’d secretly go home and take them out to dress them up. The glamour of it wore off pretty quick though; almost as soon as I took them out as an “older” girl, I lost interest unless the Barbie and Ken were kissing or humping, and even then, my prepubescent mind got bored super quick. I guess I never thought that as an adult, it would hit that hard. Or that I’d be able to at least FEIGN some interest. Sometimes I can, and my kids buy into it. Other times, my eldest senses my sarcasm, but laughs and plays along all the same. So what do I do? Suffer in silence while totally mocking my own children? Or do I make up one of the multiple excuses that my husband usually does (my back hurts comes to mind-okay, you’re not even OLD) to get out of it? And then feel that whole mommy guilt thing…? Decisions, decisions.
I guess I just find that I WANT to do things with my kids, I really do. I want to make the mudpies and bring out of all of the coloring materials to make some sort of creation, but then I lose interest much like I did with my Barbies. And my reading. And working out. And sometimes even (gasp) my blog. Whether it’s lack of energy, interest or otherwise, I find myself struggling to keep up with the mommies out there who do everything with their kids (see an earlier post where I talk about a mom who has THEME days, yes, theme days). The extent of my week this week will be to try to hit up a children’s museum, although the weather looks good and I’d rather keep them by the pool. Hopefully I won’t lose interest by then.