The random thing about baking your own bread is that it's just so much harder to do.
Sure, it tastes good. It may even taste better. You may actually realize that you aren't ingesting actual preservatives when you eat it.
The reason that I often bake my own bread, though, is because I feel like I need to do something a little more than average. Something a little more over the top than just being a regular ol' run-of-the-mill mom. Something more than most "average" moms do. Because that's what I do. I'm the worst kind of perfectionist, and I always have been. It's my downfall.
I'm typing this post at almost 2am because I'm still up after an exhausting day. A day of crying, teething babies with four arms and four legs that greatly overpower my two. A day of attempting to cook eggs while one child holds onto my hip for dear life and the other navigates between my legs, just as long as I'm careful enough not to burn anyone in the meantime. In my previous life, this would've sounded like ridiculous garbage. Like, who can't handle two little people and cooking eggs, seriously? If only it were that easy. If only it weren't just me, bearing the brunt of a husband whose worked to death every day and is absolutely spent when he walks in the door. If only I had the gall to ask him to do both clean up AND baths tonight, instead of us sharing the burden (vs. me doing it by myself, as I do when he's not here).
I so realize that this sounds completely trivial. I really do. If I was my old self, reading this when I was about to jump a plane to the next trade show in Vegas or the next customer visit in Toronto, I'd laugh. As if it was really so hard to take care of children and "cook." Hahahahahaha -If only I'd known! This is seriously, undoubtedly, the hardest thing I've ever done. I'm almost scared to post this after having said that... but maybe that's the glass of Merlot talking.
I suppose it was dinner that did me in. That one piece of chicken that was launched from across the table that sealed the deal. Sometimes, all I feel like is the person that cooks breakfast, cleans up breakfast, cooks lunch, cleans up lunch, cooks dinner, and cleans up dinner. Oh, and the one that puts the kids to bed. It's awful to say, but in a sense, I often feel used. I love being needed, don't get me wrong, but there are those times when you just feel defeated at the end of it all. The times when you've put forth your best effort to wash, cut and prepare strawberries in hopes that just a few bites will enter the precious mouths of your toddlers, only for them to end up squished into your carpet. Or the time that you've spent all day searching for a healthy, delicious meal that will appeal to the husband whose mom cooked everything from the southern-and-from-scratch cookbook as well as your picky children. It's a tough thing to accomplish, but being the type-A-perfectionist I am, I seek it. I don't know any other way to be.
I'm not sure why I'm hashing all this out, except for the fact that a friend of mine told me I needed to let myself off the hook occasionally. That I don't have to be perfect, and that I don't need to assume the brunt of everything because I feel guilty that it's "my place." I've been given the greatest opportunity in the world, which is to stay at home with my precious babies, but sometimes even I need a little breather.
I read other blogs where the author is suffering from PPD, PPA, or some other kind of plaguing disorder that defeats them on a personal level. Part of me actually envies the fact that they get tons of commenters who are all "hey, me too!", which makes me wonder why I don't ever talk about the hard times of being a mom. I feel for them, truly I do, but it's like we're all drowning at times, right? I want to put my best face forward on this little chunk of the web that I own, but there are times when each of us hit our breaking points. This life is so rewarding, but oh so very, very hard.
Again, I don't even know why I'm typing this, as it may or may not even make it's way to the dawn of "publish post." I'll more than likely choose to "save now" so that I can read it tomorrow and make the more educated, rational decision on whether or not the entire universe should be privvy to my deepest, darkest moments of parenthood. I guess, when it's all said and done, I'm not as big of an AW as others may expect me to be. I'm much more interested in being perfect.
* This post has been on "draft" status for a month and a half. I don't know why, but I just couldn't make myself post it. After re-reading it again and again, I am going to post it just because I want everyone who reads this blog to realize that I do have my moments. I am normal!