Parenting Slumps Can Be Spooky
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I notice the fake spider webs wrapped haphazardly around the stone columns on the porch, not well applied in the first place, are now even more unsightly. Clumps of white material are dripping down onto the cement slab of the porch and the adjacent flowerbed, which is overgrown with unruly shoots of St. Augustine grass.
It’s October, but it’s still hot enough that the cotton cobwebs could conceivably be melting. In actuality, several days of steady rain have loosened their precarious grip. Bits of dirt and fallen leaves litter the porch, mixing in with the white spider-web gunk making it look like packs of wild animals have been doing some light grooming beside my front door. That’s not exactly what’s been going on, but it’s not so far from the truth.
As my children play in the damp and muddy front yard, I look around and everywhere I look I see chaos. There are two open umbrellas sitting on the porch beside a dirty double stroller that we haven’t used in weeks. The styrofoam grave stones we put out for Halloween, and also at other times of the year to add a touch of class, are tossed about the yard as if the dead have become restless and mobile. There’s a clump of empty flower pots and toy garden tools and maybe a few blue and yellow bulldozers and construction trucks piled in the mulch. Like the rest of it, that part of the yard is overgrown as well.
The kids are running around barefoot again. Covered in dirt within minutes. I suddenly feel like I can relate to the fake spider webs sloughing off the porch columns. I’m trying my best to hang on, but I’m not sure I’m succeeding.
There’s no getting around it. I’m in a parenting slump. I’ve experienced such downturns before, but they are spooky every time they return. At least this time my parenting tailspin is seasonally appropriate.
What’s causing my struggle?
It’s difficult to pinpoint, but there are several contributing factors. The beginning of the school year is always a difficult time. Schedules change. There are myriad additional things that need doing. Homework to manage, folders to check, lunches to pack, and incomprehensible school spirit theme days to plan for. There’s a lot to remember and organize and it’s relentlessly exhausting.
And then there’s the issue of my lingering mental health issues. My depression and anxiety are pretty well managed at this point, but that doesn’t mean it’s always a smooth ride. It’s kind of like driving on an old road. If you keep your focus, you can avoid potholes, but any small lapse can make for an unexpectedly bumpy ride. Most days I feel good, but there are days when I just want to lie in bed or stare at my computer rather than interact with anyone. Of course, withdrawing from my children only makes me feel guiltier.
Finally, I’ve had a few weeks of disappointing writing outcomes. And while I don’t feel like perceived failures in my side hustle/would-be career should affect my mood so dramatically when there is so much else to be sad about in the world, the fact I’ve come to accept is that they do. Rejection is part of the writing game, but rejections that come when you think you’ve got a real shot at taking a leap forward always cut a little deeper. And I’ve had several of those bitter rejections in the past month.
So, when you add it all up, I’ve been feeling more than a little inadequate. And when you have kids, being just a little off your game can make you feel like you’re running in mud (which, coincidentally, my kids would enjoy greatly, but I would not).
I’ve been more irritable than usual. Less engaged. More content to let the kids watch TV all afternoon instead of planning an activity or playing with them for hours on end. We’ve also been eating the same handful of foods for dinner. And instead of buckling down to work on my writing at night after the kids are in bed, I’ve been choosing TV and ice cream on many occasions.
You know what’s interesting, though?
Even though I feel less than great as a parent the past few weeks, my kids seem exactly the same. They’re still doing well in school. They’re still happy (with the exception of the routine sibling brawls). My three-year-old is still directing me how to play with toys with the same vigor as always.
When I step outside my head and take an objective look, all seems to be well. Even though I’ve had a disappointing creative writing month, I’ve actually earned decent money on the freelance copywriting and editing side. Which just goes to show you that oftentimes the worst part of struggle is internal.
It’s okay to give myself a break. If you’re struggling, it’s okay to give yourself a break, too. And try to start getting back to normal a little bit at a time instead of expecting a miraculous recovery. Maybe I should start by cleaning up this mess outside my front door. Sometimes making a small change in décor from depressed and downtrodden to seasonably spooky is a good place to start.
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