I am just so tired.
He works so hard all the time, I just want to give him a break.
My back hurts from carrying him.
He can’t just go run and play so I have to do everything with him.
These are just a few of the excuses that run through my mind when I know I should be working with or playing with Zach but I’m not.
I struggle all the time with guilt. So the other night when Nathan brought up that he noticed I wasn’t working with Zach like I used to, it hit me like a Mack truck. It is really hard to hear things from other people that you know you should be doing in the first place. I knew that I had not been spending as much time as I used to with Zach, that I had just become complacent and lazy.
Having children can be a tough job already, but when you have a child who you want to let run around and play at the park and they can’t, it can be even harder. You have to do EVERYTHING with them. I have to play in the sand, go down the slide, sit on the swing and run around while holding him if I want him to enjoy what going to the park is supposed to offer.
I am selfish; I know this, but having to do all the activities a 3-year-old likes to do at almost 30-years-old is exhausting. When I get tired or overwhelmed I start to complain or I just shut down. I think this is what Nathan was talking about when he brought it up, I had just shut down. I had gotten so tired and overwhelmed with just the idea of what it takes to play with my little man that I had stopped paying attention. I just stopped trying. I still spent time with Zach and was always around, but I was not interacting the way I should. I was not helping him to learn and be the 3-year-old I know he is capable of being.
Even if being reminded of something is painful sometimes it is just necessary to allow you to wake up and change your behavior. I know that I will have many times in my life where I will need to be reminded again and it will be just as painful but I am grateful that I have a husband I know only wants me to be the best women, wife and mommy I can be.
