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Hard days

July 17, 2014


As a stay at home mom of two with another one the way, sometimes my patience is spread terribly thin. There are days like yesterday: my head is throbbing, my belly aching and both boys very tired and emotional when things end up less than ideal.

It was late afternoon and I attempted a trip to the library for a juggling show. The bigger child enjoyed it greatly, but the two year old was ready for a nap and began rolling, kicking and acting up. We lasted 30 minutes before I was done wrangling and my patience ran out. So home we went, ready for naps. I asked everyone to nap just so I could sleep, being five months pregnant with a tummy ache made for a very tired mommy. And so, we tried, and my four year old have it a good shot. But as I fell asleep he came in asking to read stories and I lost it. Much like a toddler who loses it completely, I started crying and being mean. Why would you want a story right now when Mom is exhausted? How could you ask?

And as expected, he went to his room, shunned by his mom, and cried. And my heart sunk and I felt like the worst mother ever.

I called him to me and apologized, grabbed books and we cuddled and did stories.

But the pain of my reaction stuck with me all afternoon and my guilt grew. I felt terrible and as I unloaded on my Husband that evening, he helped me realize that the kids were fine, the moment passed and everything would be well tomorrow.
All of us have bad days, moments when we lose it and just cannot be selfless anymore. I feel as society expects us to be super humans, super mothers who dress fabulously, bake, craft, create and have beautiful, well behaved children who are prefect stimulated and socialized. This is just not humanly possible. And, as moms we deserve a bit if grace to forgive ourselves for being human. Because being mom, whether stay at home, working, single, gay, straight or married is a ROUGH job. It is hours of endless selflessness, love and patience that sometimes just takes a toll on our minds and hearts. And everyone makes mistakes, even when that means momentarily hurting your kids’ feelings in a weak instance.

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On going out…

January 31, 2014


Recently, a friend asked the question if something was wrong with her because she chose not to go out with her friends for outings.

Now this is something I have struggled with incredibly. I see the expectations everywhere – moms are expected to go out for drinks or girls nights, craft nights, shopping, lunches, dinners or spa days in order to recharge and get away from the families. Especially with social media giving such accessibility to see friends at dances, parties, bars, and concerts. I know Mothers who go away on weekend getaways with friends, leaving the children at home. They drink, dance, relax, enjoy, dine. Now you have to understand what I mean by DINE – as a parent you find yourself eating often enough but when was the last time you truly DINED? (Hmm, this might need to be a whole other post.)

To say the little green eyed monster has never tapped my shoulder over these excursions would be completely lying to you. I am jealous. Jealous of the time, the relaxation, the beautiful people and places my friends get to go. I’m jealous of the laughter and jokes, the dressing up, the FUN of it all – just plain ole jealousy that goes to the core. But what I’m most jealous of is the ability to let go.

Now let me explain – I am far from a perfectionist who needs things done a certain way. If you’ve ever entered my home you know that generally there is a mess somewhere, if not everywhere, there are cluttered countertops, Legos strewn everywhere and enough dog hair to make a Shih Tzu. I am just fine with the messes and clutter, in fact I rather we have a good time that worry about making a mess. Messes can be cleaned up and fixed but moments and memories cannot. What I have a hard time letting go of is my family. When I go out, I end up being tired and worn out the next day, regardless of the fun I had. I just can’t manage the exhaustion. I’m not sure if other children are easier on their parents, or if my tolerance for boy-dom is painfully low but some days it takes every ounce of my being to handle my boys. And going out zaps me of whatever extra ounces I might have had reserved for a rough night, a hard day or just an illness.

Is this terrible? Shouldn’t I be DYING to get out of the house without my troop; running to get out with the girls and chit chat about the world? Shouldn’t I be excited and counting down the minutes to the next happy hour and dolling myself up for the sake of going out? The world seems to think I should be, but I’m not terribly sure.

See, I don’t think there is anything wrong with wanting to be home with your family. I spent a some time falling in love with this man, making a home and dreaming of the babies that would eventually come. This home, these people – no matter how big or little – are part of my fiber of being. When I leave without them, I feel naked. And the thing is, and this is the kicker, I feel seriously guilty for feeling lost without them. But what is it about not wishing to go out and join the world at girls’ night that is so wrong? Why is this seen as being a “missing out” moment? In my opinion, these years are so short – so fleeting. Is it so terrible to want to be nowhere else but home?

My world is slightly overwhelming and I feel I give everything to keep this going – to be the best version I can be to my boys and husband even when I am feeling far from it. It’s not that I don’t enjoy a girls night out, but rather that I have such a hard time catching up after going out. Maybe as the time goes by I’ll find a better balance in this subject, but for now, I’m happy with my focus on home.

All in a day’s work…

January 19, 2011


As many of you know, this little family has been going through a rough patch the last few days and this little boy has had a few too many doctor’s appointments and a few too many pokes and prods. Luckily, he is just fine and reeking havoc all over our house and yard.

Being one is a difficult job. Trying to traverse the world being two and a half feet tall and not able to say what you wish or want in any discernible way is very, very difficult. As I watch this sweet, curious boy explore the home and land he was born into I see the difficulties that he has: everything is touchable, everything goes in the mouth, everything is his to explore.

Sometimes being this little boy’s Momma is difficult. Patience is not always my forte, occasionally I am preoccupied or wished to get something done that does not involve him. I will admit it, I am not always the best Momma. Occasionally he can be clingy and whining – and occasionally I can be annoyed.

Enter our beloved first child: Lucy. Lucy that tender hearted, sweet, loving Lab. Lucy the always hungry, always curious and always ready to play. Lucy the wonder the loves to cuddle, loves to look at picture books and (amazingly) is very, very gentle. Lucy my lifesaver who will always play with the little guy when I am just not able to.

There is something wonderful about a boy and his dog. These two are pals, these two share snacks, pillows, toys and more slobber than I care to share. They share a home, they share parents, they share a yard and they share love. They both sit by the window and share the marvel of rain storms and chickens, and when we go for walks the each walk each other – the little guy holding her leash in his stroller.

Yes, a boy and his dog. I can only imagine the adventures these two will go on as they both grow up.

A time to play

January 12, 2011


This morning started with a runny nose and a Momma who freaked out thinking we had yet another cold. I cancelled a playdate, braced myself for another round of sleepless nights and ran to the store for a supply of just in cases.  As we ran around the store, dropped the dog off at the groomers and ran our errands I was bombarded by a clingy, crabby little boy who wanted nothing to do with anything this Momma wanted to get done.

After a few hours of fighting and fighting it dawned on me: why was I fighting? Did it really matter if I didn’t get the laundry done? Did it matter if the shopping wasn’t finished, the dishes not done or the house not straightened up. Did it matter if anything got done at all?

I sat down. I picked up a little car and played car all over my living room floor, read stories and cuddled.  We giggled, we laughed, I tickled and worked on our new words. He laughed, chased the dog, yelled at the chickens and flipped through books. Then, when something spilled I grabbed the broom and showed him how to sweep – and he helped.

Now many other Mommas and parents have had this happen before to them but this is a new one for me.  Sometimes I am not a patient Momma, sometimes I am hurried, rushed and just want to get it done. Now this works well for non toddlerhood, but in the world of toddlers this is not the most effect course. Toddlers want and need to feel useful, they need to have a job as a part of the household. Even though it might make a normal task longer and seriously more involved, it is a must to keep the peace and make the little guys feel needed. All of this is a lesson to me, a much needed lesson.

I learned to relax a little today, to let go and make sure to let the little guy “help”. He “helped” sweep the dining room. He “helped” change the wash to the dryer. He “helped” empty the dishwasher. And I helped him color and play with trucks.

I believe in the end he helped me more than I helped him.

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