Regret in the making

If someone were to come into my home, and grade me on my job as a mother, I think that I would be sent to summer school, or even be held back a year. I envisioned myself as mother, long ago, and in that vision, I was always hip, and cool. I provided this amazing life for my children. We would go on nature walks, and collect things in brown paper bags, that we had previously decorated at home, as a craft project. We would bring these treasures home, and identify them, and label them, or use them in a collage. We would sing and dance together, and all participate making dinner and setting the table. A "Big Chill" meal, except with my kids. There bedrooms would be cleverly decorated, complete with a nightlite that spun, and projected it's images onto the ceiling, creating a magical place in which to sleep. Our mornings would be filled with laughter, and discussions on what to do with the day before us. Yummy breakfast, complete with some delightful homemade treat, would then be followed by everyone happily doing their assigned chores. Bedmaking would be a game. Our day would flow, from one project, and learning experience, to another. My children would look at me, and feel proud. They would think I was pretty. They would think my voice was like Snow White's. They would love everything I cooked for them. They would admire me, and want to be like me.
I thought that this fantasy would easily take shape. I vowed my children would never watch television. They now are spellbound by Sponge Bob. I only thought they would eat fresh, healthy things. Now,they drool if the car seems to pointing in the direction of Mickey D's. The art projects, and nature walks seem like such a pain in the ass. If they ask to paint, I cringe. The word no rolls off my tongue constantly. I just don't want to be bothered. I just don't have the energy. I just don't feel like it.
I lay in bed at night, and I feel happy that my kids are asleep. I don't want to be with them anymore that day. I am happy it is over. I vow to try harder the next day. To wake up with a smile on my face. To provide a childhood for them that I only have this one shot at. I regret already, the regret I will have one day, yet why am I allowing it to be so? I am filled with worry and anxiety, and I feel so powerless most days, yet the one thing I can do well, if I so choose, I choose not to. These beautiful girls, I fear, would be better in daycare, most days. I don't deserve them.
In every way, I deserve F's.
Olivia has a 103 degree fever. I almost feel relieved that due to illness, we must stay home. We must "lay low". The pressure is off of me to step up to the plate, and be a terrific mother, like I vowed I would, last night in bed.
There is always tomorrow.