Lately I have been feeling down on myself as a mother. I know what you are thinking. “Yeah, who HASN’T?”

See, my life is very typical of a mother. I am a stay at home mom and wife, I handle the day-to-day chores that come with this role, like cooking, cleaning, etc. On top of this, I have this site that is part of my livelihood. But first and foremost I am a mom to two kids. Twins, no less.

All of my life I had wanted children. My husband and I tried for 9 long years to have children. It wasn’t until we did IVF that we got the twins.

It also wasn’t until they were born that I realized how hard and lonely motherhood is.

My husband goes to work before they wake up and comes home after they go to bed. So it’s just me. All day, every day. Unless I make plans with other moms and friends, but our schedules don’t often match up all of the time. I have no family anywhere around me, so it really feels like I am alone all of the time with two mischievous – although equally adorable – children. Most parents can relate, but parents of twins – you know EXACTLY how I feel.

With twins, the minute they realize there is power in numbers will try to use that against you. They often do things in synchronicity, like throw a tantrum for something they want but can’t have, or tag-team at bedtime.

So what do I do? Like any other mom who is in this position – I flex my muscles. I show them who’s boss. I get stern, tell them no, put them on time-outs, try to change the subject, flat out ignore the antics. But little helps, because in creeps this thing called mother’s guilt.

See I was mostly ready (as much as I could be) for the battle that is set forth the minute that pee stick turned pink. I was preparing to be a mom my whole life. I just didn’t know that with it comes that horrible feeling like I am completely screwing up, I am scarring my children because they are in their room hyper-ventilating-crying because they did something naughty and they had to suffer the consequences.

That every night when they continuously got out of bed and then begged me to tuck them in again when I tell them no, that they would remember these moments as part of their childhood.

My biggest fear in raising my kids is that they will grow up thinking their mom didn’t love them because I wouldn’t tuck them in ten times a night.

So what do I do? I end up giving in. Because that little guilt monster in the back of my head tells me that they will hate me when they grow up if I don’t.

Am I the only one?