I’m still awake at 1am. I’m replaying every interaction I had with my children today, worrying it wasn’t good enough.
I think about Caide and the number of times I told him to go away because I was feeling touched out. All the times he asked me to read him a book and I said “not right now”. When I told him to “stop putting your bloody soft toys on my knee when I’m trying to feed these babies!”. All the times he stands at the baby gate on the kitchen door shouting “come in!” and I either say “I’d rather you didn’t” or just ignore him.
I can’t remember telling him I love him.
I think of the twins and how much time they spend just lying in the travel cot/baby jail because I need to clean and tidy so the mess doesn’t give me an anxiety attack. About how little time I spend playing with them.
I worry I’m hindering their development because of how rarely they get to play on their playmat because I spend the whole time frought with anxiety that Caide is going to fall on them or be too rough with them. And I seldom do tummy time.
I think of all the time I spent just scrolling through shite on my phone, killing time until the day is over, and how I should be spending that time actually paying attention to my children.
I try to tell myself it was just a bad day but the truth is that it is every day.
I’m pretty sure I’m mildly neglectful.
I know I should change my habits but I never do. Every night I snuggle up to Caide and say sorry and promise to be a better Mummy tomorrow.
But I never do.