Mommy Guilt: Always Right There for the Introvert

I am an introvert.

People drain me. Suck the life out of me. Make me tired and crabby. Make my head hurt and my knees buckle.

Really, just leave me alone. And I’ll be fine.

So, then, is it any wonder that I’m BARELY FUNCTIONING after a week at home with the kids? My kids have to be the most extroverted, entertainment-seeking, fight-starting, snack-begging children on the planet.

And they got me for a mom.

So, when I’ve had enough and my pulse races at the sound of “MOOOOOOOOOOOM! MOOOOOOMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEEE! MOOOOOOOOOM!” for the 8 billioneth time, I retreat. I retreat both physically (leave the room) and mentally (block it out; ignore it, which only makes it louder and longer; stupid strategy, I know).

And, here they come.

Today, I had one boy saying every 10 seconds, “I want PEETZA PERFECT for dinner. Mom! I want PEEEET-ZA! If I don’t have PEETZA, it’s going to be the worst day of my life!”

The other boy was finding random sticky notes throughout the house and bringing to shred them in the paper shredder.

“Mom! Can I put this piece in? PUH-LEEZE????!!!! Mom! This piece? What about this one?”

Honestly, I just got to a place of paralysis. I was so overwhelmed with the noise and constancy that I just zoned out.

Thankfully, I managed to keep it together enough to ensure everyone’s safety and sanity AND I got dinner on the table in a timely fashion.

But reflecting on this day, I just wonder why I do that? It’s as if I can only absorb so much, and like a sponge when it’s saturated, I just can’t take anymore. I’m a big, sloppy blob of yellow and of no use for my intended purpose until I can be wrung out.

Then the guilt sets in. I think, If only we’d been making crafts, taking a nature walk, or reciting all those Bible verses we haven’t memorized, then my kids would be properly stimulated and appropriately edified and would have no opportunity for dangerous antics with office machines.

I’m not really sure what to do with all of this.