Why Do We Mothers Drive Ourselves Crazy?

Having commented on the obsessive organization of one particular famous mother lately, I've been thinking a lot about how often her upset is due to feelings that most of us have, just on a larger (and more public) scale. And much of that upset, in her and the rest of us, is self-induced.

I know that many mothers struggle with feeling overwhelmed at the task, resentful sometimes of the way it never ends, unhappy knowing that a tidy living room will quickly devolve into it's previous state of disorder. I know I feel that way at times. And then there is Mother Guilt. There is always something more I should have done, something I could have done better, something I wish I would have done except I didn't have time. Coulda', shoulda', woulda'!

Yesterday I did get a lot done. Bathroom clean, bedding changed and washed, floors vacuumed, kitchen tidy, laundry folded and put away, children fed, loved, read to, taught their lessons, played with...It was definitely one of our better days. But at the end as I was turning out lights and heading upstairs when I dared to think with happiness of all that I gotten done, the guilt-devil on my shoulder kept whispering things like, "Yeah, but look how dirty those baseboards are! Disgusting! And you let the kids watch two videos today and didn't go for a walk! What kind of mother are you, anyway?!"

Now, I am a big believer in contentment and maintaining a peaceful state of mind. In other areas of my life, this is not a problem. I have matured enough that I'm pretty much unflappable in most situations. I know we always do the very best we can, and what happens will happen and we will figure it out somehow. But when it comes to my children and my home (they're intertwined, you see), I'm still pretty much a mess. And I don't think that is a positive component of our family life. I like to think that I am not compulsive about such things (and if you visited my house you'd never guess, believe me!) but I have found myself fussing at energetic little boys for using the couch as a launching pad after I've just adjusted the pillows. I've looked down at our carpet and thought "Clearly all this detritus is alive and crawls out from under the furniture at night because I just vacuumed this floor yesterday afternoon!". I've looked at yet another sink-full of dishes and sighed in despair. Now, I find myself writing about it and notice than when talking about the children and the housework, often the housework comes first in a sentence. Ouch.

There isn't a tidy, pleasant end to this ramble, because I don't have an answer. I'm still in the middle of it. But there are a few things I know....

I know that I do care about my children and do my best for them.

I know that my feelings aren't their fault or my husband's fault.

I know that anger and resentment don't help me here, but do a lot of damage to myself and others.

I know that I probably could use my time better some days.

I know nobody in the world really cares if my house is magazine-perfect.

I know that I need to put first things first (God, husband, children) and not obsess over the state of the house.What I don't know is how to forge all of that knowledge into an effective weapon against the thoughts that assail me daily, telling me I'm a bad mother, a bad wife, and can't even keep a house decently.