Life lately has been kicking my butt. I'm not sure if it's pregnancy hormones or cabin fever or both, but this week has been rough emotionally.

Sometimes what gets projected into social media through blogs and Facebook posts and Instagram pictures and Twitter updates doesn't tell the whole story. How can it? When I'm in the middle of a not-so-pretty-parenting moment I'm not holding my phone snapping pictures of my exasperated daughter or live-tweeting my frustration. Usually I'm in the moment trying to think of the best possible solution: What should I say? What should I NOT say? How should I act? What is the best parenting move here? Or maybe I'm not thinking at all and I'm locked in the bathroom silently screaming into a towel because I.have.no.idea.what.to.do.

But I do have my phone out when they gleefully run into the local science center and race towards the lobster tank because I'm enjoying and trying to capture their curiosity and unbridled joy, the joy that I'm trying so hard not to squash with my lackluster parenting.

This week I felt utterly inadequate in the motherhood department. There were tears and raised voices yelling. And the whole time I'm thinking: there's another one coming! Overwhelmed would be an understatement at this point. Thankfully I'm married to a guy who will listen to my woeful venting and responds by challenging me to find the real source of all this anxiety, but also offers that I take the day off this weekend: "Go stay at a bed and breakfast for the night," he says. Really?

At the beginning of this year I had three goals: to journal daily, to play with my kids (really play without distraction or interruption) and to be more present in each moment. I've been easily distracted from these things by other seemingly "pressing" matters: I don't have time to journal. I really need to write that article. And since we began homeschooling in September, my time with Sophia (5) has been more about making every moment a learning experience than actually playing. I think I'm stressing her out with my approach to school. Somehow all the patience and skills I developed as a high school teacher making T.S. Eliot or Joseph Conrad accessible and interesting to at-risk teens flies out the window when I'm trying to teach my five-year-old the rules that accompany vowel sounds. And so with all that (what feels to me like) chaos I can't possibly be in the moment because I'm projecting my momentary frustration into the future (when #3 arrives) and feeling that if I can't do it now, how will I possible do it in three months!?

So we're taking a step back from the pressures of "school" and we're just going to play and have fun the next few weeks. And I'm trying to not letting "pressing" matters (somehow laundry and a dirty bathroom and a dusty shelf find their way onto my oh.my.god.I.have.to.do.that.NOW! list) be quite so pressing. And shifting my focus to now, because in three months yes there will be another one, but projecting "now's" stress into the future isn't going to help anything. I'll be saying "no" to more things and "yes" to empty time and space (not every waking moment needs to be filled with stuff to do). I'll be letting go of the way I think things need to be done and move forward in a way that works for everyone.

That and a whole lot of hugs and kisses. Because love has a redeeming power.

Ever feel overwhelmed? Ever meltdown under perceived or actual pressure?

--Sarah

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