I always dreamed of being a mom. Heck, I think I played babies and house until I was a tween.
After that, it was babysitting. And then working with kids in college.
Thankfully, I was blessed with three beautiful boys.
They are loud, wild, healthy and each perfectly exhausting in their own way.
I am the lucky one. I know that. But three kids is a lot. Working, running a house, a baby, breastfeeding, cooking, cleaning, and so on.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love being a mom. I absolutely love it.
And I know I am in the thick of it. It’s just that time of my life.
Some days I even want more kids. Three just isn’t enough. Then I tell myself I’m crazy.
I have devoted my life to them, my husband and our home.
And again, most days, I am happy to do it.
But some days, some weeks, I don’t feel that way.
I feel like I have lost myself along the way.
I’m 36 and I’m having a serious case of lost identity. Or maybe it’s a midlife crisis. Or a little postpartum depression. Or maybe I’m just tired, overweight and mentally drained.
Who knows which one.
I look in the mirror and I hardly recognize myself anymore.
It’s not that I necessary look old. It’s that I look like someone I don’t even recognize. I look tired. I look like I’ve let myself go. I look angry. I look really rushed.
Rushed to shower. Rushed to eat. Rushed at stoplights. Rushed to get dinner on the table.
And that can’t possibly be me. I’m the happy one. The positive one. I always smile.