School Days

Charli started 1st grade this week and neither of us were fully prepared. During the day is going fine.  Charlotte seems to be happy with her new class, her new teacher, and her new friends.  It is at home that all hell breaks loose.  We both are having trouble with returning to our morning insanity, oh, I mean, routine. Our mornings are back to being rushing, begging, pleading, pushing, dragging, scream-fests.  Then we all run to our separate places of work and then come back together in the evening for our nightly rounds of rushing, begging, and pleading.  Homeschooling looks more and more appealing with each passing day.  Charlotte would certainly be happy.  She really wants nothing more than to stay home with me, snuggle in a chair, and read good books all day.  She is such an old soul.  Which is why it is always so unexpected and frustrating when she melts down and throws tantrums.  It is only occasionally when we look at her and see the tiny child that she actually is.  Completely our fault.  She acts like a child because, well, she is one.  We act like children because we are immature and tired.  Seems like we would be able to see that doing less and working less would help everyone.  But, no.  We are products of our culture.  I need to have a career and a purpose outside of the home.  We need more "stuff".  I am sure I would be cranky and tired whether I worked outside of the home or only at home, but it just seems that I am spreading myself thin by trying to work in both places.  The mommy guilt rages on.

Worry

I worry.
I worry that I am not doing enough.
I worry that I am doing too much.
I worry that my big one is too sensitive.
I worry that she is insensitive to the needs and feelings of others.
I worry that my children are not getting enough sleep.
I worry that I don't spend enough time snuggling and talking to them at night.
I worry that I don't spend enough time with them during the day.
I worry that I don't spend enough time with my husband.
I worry that I don't nurture my children's talents by enrolling them in more activities.
I worry that they are over-scheduled and don't have enough down time.
I worry that they like television too much.
I worry that I am not doing enough at work.
I worry that my little one is getting pushed aside by the big one's needs.
I worry that my first born is getting her spirit crushed by life.
I worry that I am powerless.
I worry that everything I do has an impact on my girls.
I worry that I am not a good enough friend, wife, mother, worker, daughter, sister, in-law...
I worry that I am not good enough.
I worry.