Mommy Hunger

So I get to my first Easter today and before I even walk in, I start prepping myself. "Think like a skinny person, think like a skinny person, think like a skinny person." I tell myself this will be the holiday that I change my fate around. This will be the time I do not wallow in chocolate but I overcome all of that temptation and I eat the vegetables and I eat the fruit. I walk in the front door and I smell all the good home cooked aromas and walk towards them  reluctantly. I look at the table set before me and there is a huge bowl of cheese staring at me. Mmm...cheese. One little bite won't hurt. Then I grab a handful of veggies, I try the different dips and the hummus. Blech. I reached for the puppy chow, I have a handful and then I have another handful, and then I desperately search for my self control. I walked out of the room to find it. And then it is lunchtime. Ham, potatoes, macaroni and cheese, scalloped corn, rolls with butter, deviled eggs. I have just a little bit of all of it which equals quite a bit. Then I go back for dessert. This is where the damage really starts.  I have just a sampling of two different things. I don't want to overdo it I tell myself. But it is too late, I already have. I am stuffed to the gills. And then we go on to our second dinner. Second verse same as the first. Only this time I am elbow deep in the desert I did not allow myself to have the first time. The kids candy. Caramel Cadbury eggs and Reese peanut butter eggs. Chocolate cake with caramel icing. I am shoveling it in as if it's my last possible chance. Needless to say, I have to undo my pants before we even make it home.  Bloated. Miserable. Feeling like I want to throw up. Feeling like I do every single holiday. Whoops. Maybe Memorial Day I'll be that skinny person, but tonight....I gotta sleep off this food coma.

Mommy Anxiety

This may come as a shock to many of you but in "real life," I am really quite shy. Until I get to know you.  Meeting you for the first time you may think I am rude. I look down at the floor a lot. I shuffle my feet. I am a little bit awkward and lack confidence. I do not do the friendly expected chit chat very well. My anxiety gets the best of me and then I start thinking, and once I start thinking, I get paranoid. And then I start to second guess my every move. So I just don't say anything in fear of saying the wrong thing. They should teach a class on how to deal with being the cause of uncomfortable silence. I live in my head. I have no problems expressing all of my thoughts on paper, it's that eye contact thing that really bothers me. Unless we are close and I have become comfortable around you, and then you will not get me to shut up and you will be stunned to hear this completely forgetting those first few times we met. Any time I go to an appointment or a store for the "first time" I have to coax myself up. Need to make a call to make a reservation? Ugh.  Oil change? Dread! I'll never give up though. I don't want to let my social anxiety inhibit me from having an amazing life and usually I find once I push through the initial barrier, my best times were the times I took risks.  So, here is to conquering my self doubt, stepping out of my comfort zone, and practice what I am always telling my kids and really letting that freak flag fly. Not to be so consumed with what other people think that I start to mask my weirdness, my uniqueness,my awesomeness. So today, I challenge you to confront your fears. What gives you anxiety? Let's face it head on- together.  You wanna know what I did? I bought our tickets  for the annual St Marys cocktail party. And if you go looking for me, better wait in line because this mama is going to be mingling with the best of them.
The open bar helps. Xoxoxo

Mommy Valentine

"Cuz I keep it Real Yo"

Today has been filled with highs and
lows as only you would know.
Morning snuggles with my babies,
filling me with glow.
Came down stairs to find a card with
all a girl could ever want to hear.
And then the goodness of your words
whispered in my ear.
Shortly after you left the chaos did
ensue,
3 little monsters running, and babies
1 and 2.
Fits and fighting and crying and
whining and sulking filled with pouts,
Alas they went outside to play, the
babies napped, and I worked out.
The kids made a heart of snow for
me and said it was my Valentine,
Enough to make my heart explode,
their sweetness is divine!
When they came in I made hot chocolate
and they thanked me up and down,
I don’t see the big deal, all I did was
hang around.
Then my Dad stopped in with cupcakes,
smiles and energy,
It was very much appreciated and
meant so much to me.
Here comes the dog, he stepped in
his poop again, why why why??
The baby pukes and plays in it, and I
think I’m going to cry.
Finally here you come with
cheesecake filled strawberries, and a
surprise,
A dinner date! Just what I need! The
tears well in my eyes!
Then just like that, my whole world
falls, to find out more bad news,
Some exciting plans fell through and
then I got the blues.
The highs and lows of this were
filling me with strife,
It’s exhausting somedays just living
a normal rollercoaster life.
But honey this day isn’t unusual and
if to thine self be true,
There is nothing life can’t throw, when I have you to get me
through.
The bills can keep on pilin’ up, and let
the fits ensue,
I have the best defense of all,
HAPPINESS, and it’s because of
YOU.

Mommy Showers

It started out like any other night. But I knew soon, it would all change in a matter of minutes.  Like pulling off a band-aid, I didn't want to delay, I just wanted to get it over with.  I stood tip-toe-ing on the balcony of my words, "Honey... I need to take a shower."

 

"What? You're going to take a shower before you work out?" my husband asked shocked.

 

"Yes. I haven't had a shower in two days and I can smell myself, I'm not going out in public like this. You don't know what it's like, you get a shower every day, sometimes two!" I rebuttled.

 

"Whoa Whoa Whoa calm down lady. You get a little emotional when you're p.m.s.'ing." he sneered.

 

"WHAT??!!!??" I shouted, "This has nothing to do with p.m.s. This has to do with me not having a shower in two days!  I'll only be five minutes, geez!"

 

"Seriously hun, go for it. I. DON'T. CARE."

 

"Fine, I will then!" I said slamming the bathroom door.  Inside I was thinking, 'He's totally right, I am crazy. Probably the kids fault.'

 

And then it happened. That magical moment I had been waiting for for two long days. I stood under the water letting it rush over my body. It was pure bliss. I wanted to be only five minutes, I did. Truly. But I was suddenly powerless to the abyss of happiness that ensued. Asher's cries were drowned out by the noise of the pipes running. It was as if my daughter wasn't even on the other side of that door anxiously waiting to sing me the song she made up today.  I closed my eyes and took in the smell of Dove soap.  Finally something clean smelling after all of the poop filled diapers, the dog farts, and spoiled milk in the corner. I looked down and watched it all swirling around my toes down the drain. Goodbye casserole. Goodbye smell from the subway. Goodbye stress. It practically melted off of me more and more every minute. I hummed a song from baby tv in my head, 'move like the animals, move like the animals, move like the animals do, waddle waddle waddle waddle with your arms down by your side, waddle to the water and slide slide slide....move like the animals move like the animals move like the animals do.' Catching myself, I laughed and wondered what songs I used to sing back in my wine and bathtub days.  I knew time was running out as I stood there in all of my comfort and decided I probably ought to actually wash my hair. When I was finished I saw my razor sitting there and decided...what the heck...maybe I'll wear my capri's to volleyball.  Just the majors though- pits and legs to the knee.

 

I reluctantly turned off the water and then the sounds of reality started coming back.

 

On the other side of that door... was the world in which I joyfully live my life for 23 hours and 45 minutes every day. But this... this magical place... this is mine. If only for a minute.

Mommy Parties

It just occurred to me that I have about 400 invitations in my inbox for different Mommy parties.
I figured I would take the time now to explain why I will not be in attendance to any of them. It'll be a 400 birds, 1 stone, kind of answer.

First I will say how incredibly sorry I am for always ignoring you. I am extremely avoidant. I hate confrontation, I hate disappointing people and I hate telling people no.  Classy people have this ability; I do not. I'm a people pleaser. And not a very good one either.  Which really just about sums it up.

Secondly, I will explain that I am NOT not going to the party because I do not like you. It has nothing to do with you. In fact the nosiness in me wants to go. I want to see who your friends are. I want to see what your home looks like. I want to be your friend outside of Facebook.

However... I'm just not into the whole scenario. Me and a bunch of other ladies I don't know gathered in a room forced to make small talk and oooh and ahhh over highly priced shit that if we really wanted to buy we would find online and buy. The only reason we're buying it here and now is because a) guilt or b) it's a pure romance party. And I really don't think those reasons need to be explained.

So again, I'm sorry I won't be going to your Oragami Owl, Scentsy, Usbourne Books, Wrap it, Mary Kay, Pampered Chef, Tupperware party. If someone suddenly ups and changes the rules to pants being optional at these things- then let me know.  In the meanwhile, please stop giving my phone number out to your party planners. It leaves me in a very vulnerable and uncomfortable position. Similar to the time my creepy uncle asked me to wax his back. *full body shivers.

I hope you understand- Thank you!

Mommy Thighs

I made the mistake of walking past the long mirror in Kayla’s room this morning wearing nothing but my granny panties. It is now the only full length mirror left in the house and I kind of like it that way as this accidental view of myself happens much less frequently. I stopped and stared at my hardly recognizable post-baby body. So close yet so far away from my first goal. “I’m a size awesome.” I whisper half heartedly under my breath trying to convince myself as I stare in disbelief at my still pale soft belly and touching thighs. Luckily I couldn’t stand there long torturing myself as Asher started crying and Payten was needing to be up for school. I am up to 10 minutes on this couch to 5k program. I about died when I saw this week it went up from running 8 to 20 so I slowed my pace and went 10 before stopping. The path I run is absolutely beautiful this time of year and I find it an addicting atmosphere. The leaves are starting to fall and if you go early enough, it’s cool and damp and you can see the fog lifting off of the lake. The cold air in my lungs is so refreshing and it feels so good to rip off that sweatshirt once you start working up a sweat. My face forces a smile at other passerby’s through the pain as I push the double stroller. Should I say hi, should I not say hi? It’s so awkward. But I am grateful for the strangers anyway as the numbers make me feel much safer. (Don’t worry, my mom bought me some pepper spray to take with me.) Usually the other runners give me a sympathetic look. I imagine they’re thinking “Awww poor Mom of twins, working so hard to get that baby weight off.” I don’t know whether this assumption is a blessing or a curse as of course only Asher is actually mine. Some of the walkers are even kind enough to cheer me on. “Keep up the good work!” they say. Or, “Look at the smoke comin’ off of those wheels!” I chuckle and press on just trying to make it to my next walking interval. Today I wore the wrong underwear and had to keep looking behind me so I could discretely adjust them. This morning I looked back, no one was there, picked the wedgie, and 2 seconds later a bike came up behind me, ‘Good morning, on your left!’ Oh for crying out loud, no way they didn’t see that one. Woops. I make a mental note to be more careful choosing my undergarments in the future. I have to pee, because it has been 20 minutes by now (30 is about the max I can go after my coffee in the morning.) and I consider just going right down my leg, but then I remember I only live 10 minutes away and I’m not a marathon runner so it would be slightly less acceptable and perhaps more noticeable then I’m presuming. Plus, once you make that decision, there’s no going back. I push it to the back of my mind and start thinking about those bad ass chicks I know that can run an entire 5K like it’s nothing. Maybe I’ll be one of those chicks one day. I try not to let my negative thoughts trump my positive ones and finish strong. I get home and after finally relieving my bladder, I immediately do my work out video of the day. I try to get in 30 minutes, doesn’t always work that way with the babies. Once I have collapsed on the ground I know that I have done everything I could for one day and carry on living the rest of the day for the little people that need me. You see, this hour of brutality, is crucial to my survival. It is the ONE thing I do for myself each and every day. It is what gets me up in the morning. Waking up and lacing up. I think, today is an opportunity that I have to be better than I was yesterday. Today I am grateful that I have arms and legs and that I can use them. Working out is a privilege that I have with being a work at home mom that I did not have at the office. Wow, listen to me, I sound like a rockstar! Well wait for it…my downfalls are coming. Every night it’s the same routine. Get naked and get on the scale before getting in the shower. The scale has hardly moved the past 2 months. It is torturous and mocks me. Yet I cling to it with all of the hope I can muster. I watch and wait, so desperate for that number to fall again. I was feeling pretty down on myself but my before and after photos quickly remind me to just keep on keepin on and trust the process. I am not ready to show them yet as I haven’t committed to the idea of my whole world seeing them, but maybe one day when I don’t look anything like that person anymore. Every time I hear those poems about embracing your stretch marks, I think “Yes! Yes, that’s the attitude of someone much less vain than me! This is how I should feel too! These aren’t battle wounds; these are badges of honor that I should wear with pride!” Great concept there, but let’s get realistic. I want the beach babe body. I want to not only rock those old jeans but to keep going, and rock NEW jeans. Oh and while I’m asking for things, I want to eat whatever I want too. So… now that my run is over, it’s pizza rolls and brownies. Life is about the balance, right?

Mommy Guilt

He's crying. We're practicing the cry it out method. Suddenly the boy has reverted. He stopped sleeping through the night. Stopped taking naps in his crib. Just wants to be held while he sleeps at all times. So naturally, we've decided we need to let him cry.
It kills me. His sobs. His coughs. The little choking noise he makes because he's gotten himself so worked up. And don't even think about crying Mommy.
Shit...spoke too soon. Now my heart is in a knot.
Why do we do this to ourselves? I mean really...it hurts us worse than him. Most of the time he wins anyway. I want to run to him and comfort him. Kiss his sweet cheek and rock him. He's so tired, he's just fighting it, all kids do it, let's get him out. My mind is going back and forth playing good cop\ bad cop. My husband and I look at each other, both of us desperate for sleep. Both of us ready to snap at any given moment.
I'm whispering to myself
Phil 3:14 ~Press on toward the goal to win the prize.
Alas...the crying stops!
My husband and I kiss each other goodnight. We don't dare speak a word. Just roll over and feel our bodies relax beneath us. I drift off into R.E.M. within seconds.
Exactly 8 minutes later. He's back up. With a vengeance too!
I go in to console him and he's smacking the bottle out of my hands, throwing his pacifier, and everything else within his reach onto the floor. What happened to my sweet little angel and who is this crazy child?
I toss my hands in the air. (As if 'giving up' is an option when it comes to parenting.)
I get in bed and listen to his cries. I wonder what the neighbors must think. What horrible parents we must be. Tony and Jill didn't have these issues with Kate. Lindsey's baby is sleeping through the night. Our niece doesn't do this. Where did we go wrong? I read every book. He did fine for months! Why is my baby broken? I think about every possible thing that might be wrong with him. Wonder if he has gas...maybe he's teething...is he too cold?
The Mommy guilt paralyzes me in my exhausted stu-per. I feel so damned if I do, damned if I don't.
People offer up advice. They're constantly watching...judging. Gasping. "What? He's not sleeping through the night?? Maybe you should try <insert blah blah blah. (More words that only make you feel worse about your choices.)"
Finally I give up. I get him and put him in bed with us. 2 minutes later he's completely out but we are too afraid to move him at this point. I start thinking 'what if we roll over on him? What if my pillow slips? What if a blanket covers his face?'
Even in peace the paranoia and guilt live on.

P.S. If your reply to this blog is offering up some kind of words of wisdom regarding sleep training I'll punch you in your stupid well rested face!!! This is for the other sleep deprived moms' out there needing to know they aren't alone in this world!

That is all. Thank you, please drive through.