Let me explain

I have a a terrifying admission. Not terrifying to some, and maybe it's just terrifying to me because I'm physically typing the words out, not just thinking them. And even thinking them makes me feel awful. Today I had my first "this is it?" feeling. No...that doesn't even explain it. I'm not sure how to even explain it. Let me paint a picture....Jeff has been gone all weekend for his bachelor party. Woohoo! (for him) Brody and I have actually had a pretty mellow weekend. He has been his happy go lucky self. Going down easy for his naps, sleeping through the night. Then this morning, he decided no nap. I even tried the cry it out method, which for those of you who know me, I suck at it. So of course, I gave up on making him nap. Which made me cranky because I look forward to his morning nap. Instead I decide to fix him breakfast, which by fix I mean pop a waffle in the toaster (before you judge, I made the waffles with a buckwheat waffle mix and froze them). While his waffle was warming I decided to make myself some over-easy eggs, only to break both my yokes. Ugh! If Jeff were home, this would come as no surprise, he's the breakfast maker in the family. So, I guess you could call that strike 2? After multiple trips to the table ( I kept forgetting things, silverware anyone?) I finally sit down and start giving Brody chunks of waffle. I'll admit I wasn't paying too much attention to how much he was actually eating as I was eating too and trying to figure out spotify. I'd notice his tray was empty and him smiling so I'd give him another chunk. After complimenting him on how good he was eating I actually watch this next time around only to discover he's been throwing pieces to Remi. So I am a little more frustrated at this than usual, and tell him no, and start feeding him bites. Then I remember I had put my coffee in the microwave to warm it up, you know, that magical cup of coffee that seems to always have the same amount in it no matter how many times you warm it up with the intentions of drinking it? I go to get it and realize I had set the plastic microwave food cover thingy on the hot burner which in turn is melting a hole through the top. At this point I'm pissed. I mean what is it now strike 3 or 4! I admit, the next part isn't pretty. I may have thrown a little stomp my feet/loud growl tantrum here, only to notice Brody is watching me. I try to cover up my tantrum by smiling and stomping my feet...he thinks that is pretty funny. I'm mentally at my breaking point. I begin to get this itchy feeling IN my skin. I say in because it's like this weird within itchy, agitated, I need to escape from my skin feeling! I'm not crazy here people, it's just a bunch of insignificant mishaps piling up and without Jeff home I know I can't tag team out of it. And while I'm feeling this weird, I need to flee feeling, I am also feeling horribly guilty because I LOVE MY SON. And he's not doing anything wrong, he's completely innocent. That thought makes me feel even worse. He's innocent. He's smiling, swinging his legs, feeding Remi. To him, life is good. Life is great. And here I am, asking myself "is this it for me?" Is this it? Feeding babies? Cleaning house? Doing laundry, picking up mess after mess? Never having clean floors? Didn't I dream bigger for myself? Didn't I imagine traveling the world? Making a difference in third world countries? Touching lives? These questions are flying through my mind like a movie reel. And I feel at a loss. Because in front of me is Brody. My wonderful blessing. And I know, deep down, I wouldn't change life for a minute. I think this is normal. And I don't think I should feel guilty. I do, but I don't think I should. Nothing will ever change how much I love Brody and Jeff, our family. This probably will not be my only day like this, or the only time I think these thoughts. I don't think it means I love them any less. I think I am human. And we have weak moments. Scary, question everything moments. This possibly might not make any sense to anyone else, but for me, it does. And by typing it out, baring my soul, it's kind of like therapy. And maybe....it might help someone else too.