Breathe in, breathe out..
It's one of those days when I kinda feel so stressed out. For one, we don't have a yaya. Although we have this one yaya, I feel like she doesn't want to do the chores assigned to her. Second, I bring the kids to the school and bring them back home. Third, I have to work. So I wake up early, sterilize the feeding bottles. Squeeze in yoga or running (if time permits). Wake up the kids. Fix the room. Prepare their food. Give them a bath. Prepare myself for work. Attend a hearing. Go home at lunch. Bring them to school. Pick them up. Go back to the office. I am so stressed out about my schedule. Don't ask me how I managed so far, all I know is that I have to manage everything. And so far, I have. However, this schedule is taking a toll on me.
While at my lowest this morning, someone sent me a message of how much she admired how I have managed everything and how, despite my schedule, I have managed to be hands on in raising my kids. What sent me to tears was that the message was unexpected, came from nowhere, and was sent to me at a time when I was on the verge of breaking down. And for that, thank you Ate Joy.
And when I opened my Facebook when I reached the office this afternoon, I saw this being shared by my mommy-friends: To Parents of Small Children. It made me cry more. You see, we all want to be good parents to our children. Sometimes, it's frustrating how difficult it is to raise kids and how sometimes we see other parents do it more better than us. Why is her child reading at this age while my kids don't? Why are her kids more behaved than ours? Why can she easily control her kids' tantrums? I ask these questions from time to time and I get so frustrated at times. Today at my lowest, I realized that sometimes parenting is indeed frustrating. Yes it is rewarding, but sometimes it is difficult. So what I am to do? I am not a perfect parent nor do I have perfect kids. What do you do? What are we supposed to do? I think I'd go for what the father who wrote the above-entitled essay said, "Breathe in, breathe out. You are not alone."
All I ever prayed for this morning was the Serenity Prayer. "Lord, grant me the strength to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference." As I am writing this blog post, I am thankful that God sent me people to help me get through this day. Thank you from the very bottom of my heart.
While at my lowest this morning, someone sent me a message of how much she admired how I have managed everything and how, despite my schedule, I have managed to be hands on in raising my kids. What sent me to tears was that the message was unexpected, came from nowhere, and was sent to me at a time when I was on the verge of breaking down. And for that, thank you Ate Joy.
And when I opened my Facebook when I reached the office this afternoon, I saw this being shared by my mommy-friends: To Parents of Small Children. It made me cry more. You see, we all want to be good parents to our children. Sometimes, it's frustrating how difficult it is to raise kids and how sometimes we see other parents do it more better than us. Why is her child reading at this age while my kids don't? Why are her kids more behaved than ours? Why can she easily control her kids' tantrums? I ask these questions from time to time and I get so frustrated at times. Today at my lowest, I realized that sometimes parenting is indeed frustrating. Yes it is rewarding, but sometimes it is difficult. So what I am to do? I am not a perfect parent nor do I have perfect kids. What do you do? What are we supposed to do? I think I'd go for what the father who wrote the above-entitled essay said, "Breathe in, breathe out. You are not alone."
All I ever prayed for this morning was the Serenity Prayer. "Lord, grant me the strength to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference." As I am writing this blog post, I am thankful that God sent me people to help me get through this day. Thank you from the very bottom of my heart.
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