The bad mother.

Do you ever get over feeling like you are a bad mother. Work has been oppressive lately and there is no end in sight. Needless to say I have been working very long hours and often getting home well after Isabelle has been bathed, fed and put to sleep on sheepy. I hate those nights. I hate not getting to read books to her and have her point out the moon on each page. I hate not being able to tell her that Mama loves her and smelling her sweet silky baby hair. I hate feeling absent and like I don't share any meaningful role in the rearing of my own wonderful, exuberant, magical child.

But there is something I hate more or at least as much and it is this is what makes me feel like such a bad mother. Being apathetic.

Saturday I slept until noon, which was actually a good thing because I didn't get home from work until 1:30 am. I needed the sleep, I had been sick all week, but had to work anyhow because of said oppression, above. After I got up I spent the rest of the day happily with Isabelle. Then Sunday came, I again got up a little late, but not too bad. We played and spent sometime together. But I was so damn tired. I didn't feel like playing. I didn't feel like being silly. I just felt like laying down.

So when Paul took ITL to Linda's for Paul's birthday dinner, I stayed home. From 2:00 pm until 7:30 pm they were gone. I lay on the couch and watched TV. I opted for that versus spending time with my child. It's not to say I didn't miss her, because I did. And I felt bad the whole time. Here it was Sunday -- one of two days I actually get to visit and play and be there as a parent -- and I holed up like a sloth on the sofa. I feel like a bad Mom.

I know there are times when I have to be gone from Isabelle because of work - I accept that. I work long hours so that we can afford to have Paul stay home with her. Sometimes I regret that. Sometimes I wish he worked and I stayed home. Sometimes I wish we both worked so we had more money and he didn't get to decide how to raise her (this is my insecure/jealous issue). I accept all of that. But how - when I miss her so much - can I just let her go and chose not to be with her? I don't know the answer to that question. But it makes me feel bad. It makes me feel like I failed, even if just for those 5 hours on Sunday.

Parenthood is hard. At least for me it is. Not in the usual ways. I mean, Isabelle is happy, she sleeps, she hardly cries, she is adaptable and cheery. It's hard because I don't want to make mistakes and yet I know I will. I don't want to be selfish, but sometimes I know its inevitable. I don't want to allow my temper to get the best of me and to get angry at a little person who can't even form the requisite intent to do something wilfully wrong -- but sometimes I do. I do get angry and I do get selfish and I do make mistakes. Parenthood is a hard job because you know you are doomed to fail in so many small ways and yet you move forward, you go back to it every day. Day after day. Failure after failure. Mistake after mistake.

None of this is to say that parenthood is not wonderful. I adore Isabelle with every fiber that is me. She is the one person in this world who I would give my life or my success or my happiness to if it meant she would be happy and safe in return. I am glad every day that I have her. But parenthood is a hard job. And sometimes I am a bad mother.