Where Cori Begins and Mother Ends

I started out this morning, writing a very introspective piece about the winter blues. But, as the words flowed from my mind to my fingertips, the theme slowly shifted to another battle that I have within myself.

I struggle with being an individual and being a mother. Most of the time, I don’t feel like I can be both at once.

If you were to run into me today and ask me what my purpose in life is, my focus, my end-game, I would say that I just wanted to raise my children to be good people. 

I spend about 90% of my day thinking about, or doing things for, my children. I open my eyes every morning to the face of one of my kids staring back at me, and I go to sleep every night asking God to be with them. Even things that are seemingly for me, I do to make our routine smoother or to make my little family happy or proud. Cleaning the house, cooking, organizing, working, it’s not just for me anymore. And, as I think about my purpose, even if I circle away from being a mother just once, it comes back around to just that. The children are such a huge part of my life right now, embedded within almost every single activity of my day. It’s near impossible not to focus on that aspect of my life.

In fact, how many mothers out there noticed that I didn’t include the role of “wife” within this post yet? If you did, good for you. If you didn’t, I get it! Because, Heath and I, at some point, put our relationship on the backburner and moved the kids right up to the front. It’s not something we discussed or did intentionally. It just happened. Just as, the day I saw two lines on that pregnancy test, “individual Cori” packed up her skinny clothes, expensive shoes, impractical bras and underwear, and waved goodbye. Mother Cori moved in – with her dark circles, mom-bod issues, and quick fuse for things that she can’t control. She may have also brought several pairs of black tights, t-shirts, and sweatshirts. It is what it is…

There have been points in my motherhood, thus far, when I was so wrapped up in the children that I completely lost sight of myself – and certainly lost sight of Heath (unless it was to beckon him for assistance with the kids). One day, however, the kids were slow getting around for the day, came home to just complain about being bored, and then wouldn’t eat what I cooked for supper. Feelings, that I wasn’t quite aware of, or had been ignoring, just came bubbling out. I started in on a lecture about how spoiled they were, how they take everything they have and everything I do for granted, how I give, give, and give some more, and they don’t appreciate it. I quickly realized that I was resentful. To no fault of my children, I put all of my focus and energy in them, and was mad that they didn’t appreciate it. Of course they didn’t. They didn’t even notice that I was pouring my being into them. How could they?

I knew then that I had to start doing things for myself again. It wasn’t just an excuse for “unmotherly” behavior. It was to make me a better mom. I didn’t want to feel resentful. It made me grumpy and irritable, and I wasn’t being a good role model to the kids. What is it that they always say? You can’t pour from an empty cup? Well, yeah, and in my version, my cup was empty and theirs were overflowing onto the floor. Then, of course, I was having to clean up the mess.

It is an active effort to make time for myself. I try to schedule girls’ nights out, try to do an activity each week that is something that I want to do, take at least an hour in the evening to watch TV or read a book. But, it is a constant struggle. There is a lot of guilt involved. And when you don’t feel like you need to be doing something for the kids, you feel like you need to be doing something for your husband. The balancing act is extremely difficult and I suck at it the majority of the time. 

My cycle is this: give, give, give, get angry, be selfish, restart.

And, it is truly no one’s fault but my own. I do it to myself. I keep thinking that I can give, give, give, and then not be affected by it. Until, I am. Then, I’m reminded to focus on me a little too. In fact, when I get my head out of the Lucy, Olive, and Henry clouds, I kind of panic. If I lose sight of myself while raising children, what is going to happen when they’re all out of the house? Will I even know myself? Will Heath even know me anymore?

I have to make time for me. And, to step up onto a soapbox for a second, we have to stop making moms feel guilty about that. 

Take your friend up on the invitation to go out. Don’t feel bad for getting a sitter two weekends in a row. Buy the outfit. Go workout for half an hour. Don’t shame another mom because she is having a beer while cooking dinner. Do the thing, say yes to the thing, enjoy the thing. Focus on you.

If you do it, then I will be reminded to do it too. 

And, if you do it, I will grasp the value in it again. 

And, if you do it, then I won’t feel so guilty choosing me every once in a while as well. 

See how that works? (Stepping down from my soapbox now.)

I’ve seen someone compare motherhood to the oxygen masks on planes. You are supposed to put yours on first. Then, help the person next to you. While I completely understand and respect this concept, I wonder about actually experiencing this scenario. How many of you, in a state of panic, would totally start to put your child’s on first? I am almost certain that I would at least reach for theirs before reminding myself to “follow the rules.” 

I think, for a lot of us, our instincts tell us that our children come first. They are the most important. Who cares what happens to me?! Take care of my babies! Am I right?

But…if you are fighting for air, you can’t help your babies…

I know you wanna pour your cup into theirs, and reach for their masks first, because you love them more than anything in this entire world. But, remember yourself. Keep your eye on her. When you are balanced and happy, your home is balanced and happy.

This is your reminder. This is my reminder.