I’m losing it. Work has been swamped because I keep taking jobs that require me to draw, and I. don’t. draw. I mean I can draw, if I want to make 10¢ an hour. So over the past few days instead of interacting with my kids, I’ve mostly been looking at them when they are regaling me with stories, while in my head, I’m thinking, “When are you going to stop talking so I can get back to work?!” Last night for dinner I fed my kids Dino Nuggets. That’s it, no broccoli, or salad, not even a limp piece of celery.

I was supposed to take two of my kids to the doctor yesterday, one for booster shots, the other for a check up; I missed the appointment. My husband needed to print a copy of his offer letter; we’re out of paper. I sent one of my daughters to school with her hair pulled up in a pony tail, because it’s greasy; I forgot it’s picture day. My house is right on the cusp between “manageably messy,” and “pig sty.” I have bills I need to pay, overdue library books that need to be returned, grocery shopping that needs to be done, ad infinitum.

Because I don’t have enough to do, I told my kids I’d take them to Amish country this weekend, and throw them a Halloween party weekend after next. Today I’m supposed to volunteer in one of my kids’ classes, and I’m so tempted to cancel. Except I’d feel compelled to lie and say my son was home sick, because I don’t think I can say, “Hey, I’m really off my game, and this is the only child-free morning I have this week, and I need to use it to pull my shit together.”

And how’s your week going?

School started yesterday, and all three of my children are in school for the first time. My kids are 9, 6, and 5, and have been at home with me during the preschool years. I didn’t put them in daycare, or use in-home help at all (not that I’m bragging, at times I would’ve liked help, but while living on one salary that wasn’t an option). For the first time ever, I’m apart from my children from 7:00 to 2:00. And it’s KILLING me.

Last year I homeschooled, and I loved it. Originally, I decided to homeschool for a year because Haley, my middle kiddle, was only 4 when she started Kindergarten (she has a late September birthday), and all her classmates were much older than she, so I decided she needed another year before heading into first grade. Emily, my oldest wanted to stay home too, so I enrolled them both in a terrific online academy. When it came time to put them back in public school, I practically had to drag myself by the hair to enroll them. Sometimes what I want to do, and what I think is the right thing to do for my kids, isn’t the same thing. I hate it when that happens.

Fortunately my children are having no problems whatsoever adjusting to their days away from me. I comfort myself with the thought that I’ve been able to contain how much I miss them, so that it’s not causing them any angst. I also know I’m not a “helicopter” mom; I’m not controlling, and I don’t smother them. My children do and should have lives, thoughts, and identities that are separate from mine. They need to develop skills that will help them get their own needs met. They need to fly– BORN FREEEEEE, AS FREE AS THE WIIIND BLOOOOWS…

Oh, sorry.

So this week I embark on the same journey that 99% of all working mothers trek: leaving my kids in the care of someone else, while I pursue my career. Whether you took 8 weeks of maternity leave, or waited until your last kid was in Kindergarten before jumping back into the career pool, many of the issues are the same.

• When I’m not mothering, who am I?
• Will I be able to be there for my kid, when it counts?
• How will my children perceive my work?
• How will their needs be met?
• How will my needs be met?
• What the heck are my needs, anyway?

How did you resolve these questions, and what magic poultice did you use to take the initial sting out. If I don’t feel better soon, I may have to break out the chocolate.

I can feel it coming on. It starts with fluttering high in my chest. The sensation moves up through my shoulders to my head. It feels like part of me– not my body, but some nebulous part of me– is being sucked through a straw. I feel slightly dizzy, my thinking is fuzzy. Tears spring up, and I try to blink them away. I startle easily. I feel things closing in. A panic attack? Maybe, but it’s more of an undercurrent, a lower grade feeling, not as drastic as “panic attack” sounds.

My husband will be changing jobs soon. I hope to blessed and wonderful God we won’t have to move to another state. I’m not even going to THINK about it right now. La lala la la, this is me sticking my fingers in my ears. I’m starting a business. My two daughters are returning to school, after being homeschooled last year, and if you read my other blog, you know that I would rather have them at home. My 5-year-old is starting pre-K this year. It’s a full day program, and he’s been at home with me for the past 5 years. (See, here comes that feeling. Rolling underneath, looking for a crack so it can rise to the surface.)

I’m taking some liberties here, because I suppose the topic of stress isn’t directly related to my work, but of course work will be effected by the rest of my life, and vice versa. I also get S.A.D, and with winter around the corner, I know I need some mental reserves I can draw from later.

I can tell you one thing; I refuse to go down. I picture myself like Daffy Duck (I know, Daffy is not your typical Zen guru) when he was Robin Hood, parrying and thrusting at stress with my handy quarter staff. And that’s precisely what I plan to do. I know the best way for me to combat stress is to take really good care of myself. It’s not a luxury, it’s a necessity. The same way I regularly (mostly– inconsistency is one of my problems) take my medication, so too there are other medicines I must use to keep my health.

• pray
• have a sense of humor
• feed my curiosity
• ride my bike
• keep my house clutter free
• stay away from junk food
• get to bed on time
• eat a lot of protein and veggies
• make “To Do” lists of actions I can take, instead of worrying

I’m not particularly good at parenting myself, but it’s clear: if I want to exit the tunnel of winter healthier than when I entered, steps must be taken.

The other day I filled out the paperwork to register my son for Pre-Kindergarten. Earlier in the week I filled out paperwork at the endodontist’s. On both forms, under employment I wrote the name of my business. And promptly freaked out inside. Because I have a business. Kinda.

I’m a sole proprietor, so I do business under my name, not the “company” name on my website, or my business cards. (Ahem, if I had a website and business cards, that is. Note to self: Get a web site and business cards.) And really, “sole proprietor” feels far too legal. I’m only a sole proprietor because that’s the door you go through, at the end of the long hallway called Hobbyist. It’s a business, because it’s not a hobby. I mean, I’m a freelancer, for corn sake. I don’t have a company. *Breathes into paper bag.*

Really the only time I invoke the magical business fairy dust is when my kids are pestering me. I’m working, I say. And I must say, that goes a long way to relieve my guilt. And soon my kids will be back in school, and I’ll devote the whole day to working. And when I meet parents and teachers, and they ask me what I do, I’ll say I’m a graphic designer. I’m hoping it will feel more official then. But maybe it’s like the word “grownup.” You don’t feel like one, even though you are one.

There are some things I’m not very good at doing. A couple of these things are an integral part of my job; they’re skills that I need on a daily basis. I’m not looking for sympathy or advice, so I won’t bother to tell you what they are (even though talking around them will probably make this post somewhat awkward).

The bottom line is, in order for me to do them well it takes a herculean effort, and even then the results are sub par. I could fill a book with all the means and methods I’ve used to cultivate these qualities, and it has helped some. But I’m not where I want to be, not even close. The problem is, I desperately want to be proficient in these areas, so I have a tough time accepting my deficiencies.

We all have stuff we’re no good at. I can’t tie a cherry stem with my tongue, or run a ten-minute mile. I’ve tried to learn how to juggle and jump rope, to no avail. I can’t knit. Even though I’d like to be able to do those things, the quality of my life and my work isn’t effected by their absence.

On the other hand, there are important talents at which I’m not adept, but I don’t value them– like marketing myself. I roll my eyes at most of the hoopla associated with that. (Brand myself? I’m not a cow.) Since that’s not a priority, I’m okay with being passable.

Hmm, now that I think about it, It occurs to me there’s a third category. (Shall I make a Venn Diagram? Plot the values along the X,Y axis? For Pete’s sake, cover your mouth when you yawn.) *sigh* Anyway, there is a third category, which is: abilities that are important, which I value, that I’m no good at, but I don’t feel bad about being bad at them. For example, I’m not very good at accounting. When/if my freelancing takes off, I can hire someone to do my bookkeeping and taxes. I know it’s not my forte, no big deal.

So why does it bug me so much that I just don’t have the knack for these other things? Really, it’s downright depressing. More than a simple character flaw, it feels somehow like a moral failing. Which it’s not. (Good grief, this post is going nowhere. I feel boring and exposed at the same time. Yet, I soldier on.) Maybe what bothers me is that I really want to excel, and don’t or can’t. Don’t is one thing, but can’t just isn’t the American way, is it?

It’s what we tell our children: Don’t say can’t. I also tell my kids, “Just do your best, that’s good enough.”

So…what do you do when your best isn’t good enough?