This afternoon, as I was putting Boy 1.0 down for a nap, I thought about the way that I should probably feel satisfied with myself for undertaking the heroic effort of caring for two small children full time, and yet I can't put down the idea that I should be doing something more. Like I should Make Something Of Myself. That making a home and caring for children is somehow Not Enough. That this isn't the Real World, and that I need to Take On More.

Even as I write this, the pre-children Self in me is saying "I don't get it! What's so hard about that? She SHOULD be making something more of herself! Get on it, let's go!"

And the Self with two children says, "I am soooooo tired, all I want is to lay in this bed, and kiss this baby, and soon it will be time to cook something for dinner, and I will do my best to include a variety of wholesome foods, and then I will attempt (without real success) to clean up my kitchen, and hang the diapers to dry on the rack, and put the toddler to bed, and then I can relax."

And then the Other Self pipes up and says, "Oh, no you don't. I know about that stack of unfinished assignments. I know about that closet that has been filling and filling, to the point that you can't let go of the doorknob when it's opened or the contents pressing against the door will force themselves out. I know about those bills waiting to be paid and the mess inside your desk drawers. I know about that stuff, Mother Self. No rest for you!"