I resign...

The role of super-mommy is now vacant. I have officially resigned. Quit. Staged protest and walked out. I'm done.

In my head I had, have, this wonderful idea of how I'd like my life to be.
I would be super confident working mom running my small, but successful business from my quaint self-designed and decorated studio. Sorry did I say business, I meant brand. I would flutter between meetings, art lessons and my painting studio where I would design and create new paintings and products that, in no time would find their way to the bookshelves or Barnes and Noble and the counters of Best Buy Baby and Mothercare. Of course in-between all this I would be raising my three beautiful children, cooking them delicious home made organic meals every evening, reading them stories, baking delights they would take to school and show off proudly, sewing their own clothes; and at the end of the day I would retire to my husband, feed him a lovely home cooked meal before settling down to continue knitting the jersey and crocheting the blanket I started for the charity I volunteer for.

Or something like that....

Sadly I feel that more often than not these days I've bitten off more than I can chew. And whilst I'm sitting at the desk of the investment bank I currently contract for, being bombarded with insults on my ability to 'book meeting rooms properly' I have to try my hardest not to a)cry b)walk out or c)slap those involved in the face. Of course b and c would result in me no longer working for said investment bank which would mean I would achieve above but somehow easier to think than do.

Most days now I come home, to a house that is a mess, boxes and piles of clothes still lying around from when we moved in (almost 2 months ago) and heaps of laundry and dishes to sort out, thanks to the maid who we hired doing a runner almost a month ago. So instead of home cooked meals my kids come home to two minute noodles, spaghetti or rice dishes that are usually quick and easy to cook, limited after dinner activities, most times this is them watching me tidy up toys and preparing dinner and they head to bed, unread to, often unbathed and very occasionally even in the same clothes they wore to school.
(Yes, not likely to win mother of the year award for that one)

Most evenings I'm annoyed and tired and instead of appreciating the time I get to spend with the kids, I'm frustrated that, more often than not, I'm the one doing dinner time duties and even more frustrated that I haven't got to the gym for yet another day, despite my gym clothes living in a bag in my car.

This week has been even more emotional for me than usual. Amongst other things yesterday was 'due day'. Due day for baby no 3, that sadly we will never meet. I woke up yesterday morning at 2:56am as per usual (I really need to think about getting a new body clock!) and from 2:57am until about 8pm that night I could not stop myself crying. I know it wasn't meant to be, it wasn't part of God's big plan but the pain is still there. Even as I write this I cant stop the tears. I have to believe that tomorrow will be better, and the day after better, and the day after that even better. And not long from now sometime in the near distant future I will be able to think about this time without bursting into tears.

Joburg has certainly made me realise that moving country isn't that stress-free after all. New York seemed a breeze compared to this and I keep wondering why. Why did I find myself after three months in Hoboken so much more settled than I do now? After all we have a house here - officially as of today. In the past five years we had moved country four times, flats/houses 12 and now we finally own our own home. So what's so different? Is it working full time? Or could it be the fact that I have yet to meet or make any friends?
Is all this anger channeled into frustration because I'm so lonely? If I had someone to bitch to, drink with or hang out with would it make everything else better?

Finding friends since we moved here has honestly not been easy. I knew this before I moved here- it's not your typical 'expat' country, but I never thought three months down the line I wouldn't have met anyone. And those who know me know it's not through lack of trying. I met my two best friends in New York in the street and online. I fear the longer I leave it, the harder it will become and I will no longer be the new girl with a valid excuse for being all alone when having my nails done on a saturday afternoon.

Change is not easy for me but I feel something has to be done, so I resign. I can't be the super-mommy I so long to be and maybe I have to accept that. I should forget about baking cupcakes when I come home, preparing home made meringues for friends and offering to get involved in work or charity activites I know I have absolutely no time for. Maybe giving up on being super-mommy will make me a better mommy. I think the kids sure hope so.

So with that, its off to bath. I'm not sure we can go three days without a scrub.