Mommy goals

To understand where someone IS, you must first understand where they have BEEN. 

Six years ago I was a single Mom. I lived off of Ramen noodles & camel lights. My idea of exercise was walking around the building at work to go smoke. It wasn't unusual for me to drink an entire bottle of Captain Morgan in one sitting & to go days without eating. I was a lost sheep when my daughter was with her Dad. I didn't know how to cope with the lonely & filled that emptiness with broken relationships & unhealthy habits. I was struggling through an awful never ending and very costly divorce & working as many hours as I possibly could. Yet sadly, it wasn't even the most unhealthy point in my life. 

3 years ago, I was pregnant with our son. I was almost 100 pounds heavier than I am now. I was depressed, nicotine withdrawing & exhausted. I was sick through most of my pregnancy & tried to just eat & sleep off the whole thing. I wanted to close my eyes, & it all be over. I remember crying when my sister Lynsey, (God love her.) told me she was throwing me this baby shower. My anxiety was through the roof regarding having to even attempt "looking cute" when I felt like a cow; let alone be the center of attention and open gifts in front of everyone. I must've seemed like an ungrateful B. But it killed me. 

2 years ago, I started a couch to 5K program very very reluctantly; ready to turn my life around. When I started, I couldn't even run 30 seconds. I was still 65 pounds heavier than I am now & even in my glory days of High School where I was a total jock & played every sport, I was never a runner. Regardless, I started moving. What's that saying about 'objects in motion stay in motion.' ? Well it's true. I had quit my job of 7 years that was giving me chair ass, where donuts and cake and bagels sat on a desk in front of me staring at me almost every day; to stay home with my babies and start a daycare. I had NO idea what I was doing. There were days I would cry when they cried. Even though I had been a mom for 6 years already, taking care of other people's kids was nothing like taking care of my own, even if I loved them. Was I out of my mind? Had I made a huge mistake? But I kept on trucking. I forced myself to work out while the kids napped. I did Jane Fonda videos, Zumba, various fitness videos on YouTube. I'd work out with kids crawling on me, or barricade myself in the kitchen- whatever I had to do to get it in. That's when I realized, hey- this is great! I can work out "on the clock!" What a blessing! Most people would love to have this opportunity! And I embraced the crap out of it. 

And here I am just a few years later. The process has been EXTREMELY slow. I've watched my friends do circles around me  on the track; & watched their weight seem to just fly off while mine didn't budge for an entire year! But I didn't give up. My goal was to be strong & fit. Never skinny. I was skinny before & not heathy at all. I knew I didn't want to be there again. There has been a LOT of fluctuating. (Actual graph of my progress.) 

A ridiculous amount of tears as I am finally to my pre-pregnancy (ever) weight but am still not able to get back into those old jeans on account of my body shape changing so much. My boobs have been through the freaking ringer with nursing 2 babies & all of this yo-yo'ing. Not to mention, it seems like just now other people have finally taken notice & are starting to say things & compliment me. I know it's not humble at all but when you work out 5 days a week, and you drop 55 pounds, you start craving those accolades! But that is not what this is about. This is about YOU. Your courage to start. You think you'll never be a runner? You think your life is destined to always be the same? Think of where your life was six years ago. Bet you had NO IDEA where you would wind up now. I hope I can encourage you on your journey by showing you what a real one looks like. It's not about losing weight quickly and getting thin. It's about being healthy. Being able to play with my kids for hours on end without being exhausted. Not feeling guilty when I indulge in some ice cream with them. Having the ability to move the furniture around without my husbands help. Not letting my body issues ruin our sex life. Confidence is the sexiest thing there is. I didn't need to change what I looked like for him. But I needed an internal makeover on how I felt about myself. When I'm headed in a health minded direction with my body...my mind, my spirit, my soul, follows suit. I have always had a super addictive personality and maybe all of this is just my new drug of choice. Well it's about time I replaced some of those negative addictions with positive ones. 

With the help of God, and a close friend who got me through the first 4- I met a goal this morning, and hit my 5th mile, all by myself. I never thought I'd see this day. And the best part is, I'm not even close to finished. And neither. Are. You. 

Mommy Blues

I want to be annoyed by our daughters cryptic Instagram titles:

"I'm hurt but I can fake a smile"

"Head up, stay strong, fake a smile, & move on."

And so on and so forth, only to be deleted and replaced 19 times in the next 24 hours. 

Yes dear you have a rough life. What was it, TOO MANY vacations this year? All out of size zero at Abercrombie? Only 78 likes on your picture?? <insert eye roll here 

And then I remember she's THIRTEEN. I wouldn't trade places with her for anything- other than to spare her the pain if I could. 13 is awful. The worst. She's headed for junior high this year.

I think back to what my Junior High years were like. 

I had started my period. FIRST. Got boobs. FIRST. ew. Along with that curves when the fashion was BODY SUITS. (So I was a cow.) I had held hands with a boy. My boyfriend of 5 minutes. An eighth grader.  (So I was a slut.) I seeked validation any & everywhere I could seek it. One minute I was the top dog & the next I'd be right back at the bottom crying my eyes out because someone said I wore too much makeup. (So I was a clown) or my clothes were too dorky. (So I was poor.) I went to church often. (So I was religious and weird.) I got good grades. (So I was a nerd.)

I do hope she can turn to her guidance counselor at school. I don't know what I would've done without mine.

Lord knows I didn't turn to my parents often and it wasn't because they weren't there for me; it was because I was a teenager and everything was "if Dad finds out, I will DIE!"

So today I have the Mommy blues. The ' I wish I could save you from yourself but I can't.' Mommy blues. The 'sometimes you have to experience the pain of life & there's not a damn thing I can do about it.' Mommy blues. The 'I've been there and it sucks ass' Mommy blues. 

I miss knowing her toughest day in life involved rocky road or Mint chocolate chip. 

I miss her wanting to spend time with me. 

I miss her innocence. 

I've got the Mommy blues. For my step daughter- who has a "real" mom who loves her very much and doesn't need need me. But she's never been anything but a daughter to me anyway. And I love her with all of my heart Mommy blues.

 

Mommy Judging

What they don't tell you about motherhood- when you're prepping to be a mom, is that you shouldn't be out buying all of the most expensive gadgetry, and picking out cute little outfits to "get ready" for the baby, you should be prepping by practicing making a bottle with one hand, sleep training yourself to survive off of only a few precious hours of sleep a night, start taking showers only every 4 days & have someone screaming their head off outside of your curtain the entire time.

Truth be told you never appreciate your own mom more than the exact moment she offers to take your kids for you so you can enjoy a weekend vacation with just grown ups. 

Last night I was walking my kids home from the park and my 8 yr old was continually pushing the stroller with my son in it into the street and letting go after being told not to several times. Eventually, I snapped. "Payten why don't you listen?!? How many times do I have to tell you?!? Do you want your brother hit by a car?!? Give me the stroller back, you're not responsible enough." And then I turned the corner & saw them. People. Grown ups. They gave me a sheepish smile as if they understood, but I saw right through it. Into their eyes. Their judging eyes. And I heard myself from a strangers point of view for the first time. Ew. How ugly. Is that who I have become? The lady that snaps at her children for trying to help? The mean lady with the condescending tone? 

And it's not just them, I do it too. I've seen the mom at the grocery that counts to 3 ten times & I think... Maybe if you would stop giving so many chances, your kid would actually listen to you. I've seen chubby kids eating candy and thought, wow you really need to pull back on the sugar lady. I've even gone as far as to discuss it, "can you even believe he's still not potty trained?" Or "Seriously she still has her binky?!" Or "can't believe they let their kid watch that movie!" The very thing that would hurt me the most; to be judged as a parent, is the thing that I myself still do.

Being a parent is the best thing ever. And the hardest thing ever. And the most exhausting thing ever. And the most rewarding thing ever. It's all of those things and so much more. Why are we so hard on ourselves and more importantly- on each other? Aren't we all just kind of winging it? Making up the rules as we go along. We should be high fiving one another every chance we get. Helping the Mom at the grocery store when clearly she's just trying to get out of there before the crap hits the fan. Hugging the mom who has been trying to potty train her kid for years now. Praying for circumstances and strength and patience. (I know, I know, you're not supposed to pray for patience, just put it on the list of things I do incorrectly.)

Let's remember we are all on this roller coaster of parenting together and be the village. I'll call you Tuesday when Asher is having a meltdown because I didn't get all of the white peel off of his orange good enough & you can bring over a bottle of rum. In return, I promise to not make a big deal out of it when your kid pukes on my carpet because you forgot to mention their lactose intolerance. 

Mommy Day

It's these kind of days meant to honor and lift Moms up that I feel the least 'good' about my job as a mother. It's a day where the focus is on my parenting and I re-assess the job that I'm doing with my children. 

It's funny when I try to think about the things that I do right as a mother, the only thing I can really think of are my shortcomings.

I should be more patient. I bet Jennifer is patient. Jennifer listens to her kids and sees the positive in them instead of disciplining. When Gabby pees on the couch, I bet Jennifer would say, "It's  ok sweetie, don't be embarrassed, it's no big deal." She'd swoop her up and kiss her and tell her what a good job she did earlier in the day making it to the potty. Myself...I act like a stark raving lunatic, yelling because OMG IF I HAVE TO CLEAN THIS COUCH ONE MORE TIME IM GOING TO KILL SOMEONE!!

I should be able to balance more than one thing at a time. If you come to my house and I look showered and like I have brushed my hair today then you will see that there are toys EVERYWHERE, lunch has been left out on the table for long enough for the health dept. to have a hay day; and there is a puddle of urine on the bathroom floor from one of the boys which I am not even aware of yet. If I'm dressed in my work out gear, it means that I at least ATTEMPTED some fitness which means that during that 20 minute video that took 2 hours, I was annoyed by the kids no less than 17 times. I was short with them, inconvenienced, & probably yelled because they did something while I was in downward dog that I should have prevented in the first place. If I did some creative Pinterest project it means I'm so happy. It's a happy and virtually perfect day. I don't seem to be bothered by the kids interrupting me when I'm painting and crafting something pretty and I find it very therapeutic.  It seems to balance out my endorphins even more than working out. However, it means I didn't cook, I didn't spend time with God, and I didn't pay the bills when I should have. All of this is completely true. I am telling you this despite the fact it makes me look bad because I often hear from moms, working moms especially, that they feel that everything they do is half ass. There's just not enough hours in the day to get it all done. I mean when you think about it, you wake up, get the kids ready, take the kids to the sitter, go to work all day, pick the kids up, go home, feed them dinner, give them baths, and put them to bed. At what point do you clean? At what point do you make time for yourself? Time for your body? Time for God? When do you stop worrying about the never ending to do list so you can simply watch a show, or go to bed early, so you can actually get a full nights sleep? And that is only if you don't have babies that are going to wake you up several times throughout the night. There's so much pressure to do it all and be it all and so very little time and energy. 

I should be thinner. I should be stronger. Emily looked so cute in that little dress and she ordered sugar free ice cream. Maybe I should order sugar free ice cream. But seriously, I heard that stuff causes diarrhea. Maybe I should get some diarrhea actually. Don't even get me started on the comparison that goes on constantly in a woman's mind. Mom or not, we are non stop sizing one another up and wishing that we had something that another woman has. I wish I had her boobs, I wish I had her butt... And it's not only the physical that we long for; I wish I had her joy, I wish I had her discipline, I wish I had her talent. In all of that wishing, how do we admire even a single thing about ourselves? I saw a question once and it was, "what do you love most about yourself?" I seriously could not think of one single thing. All I could think of was everything that I would change if I could. I'm not depressed, I don't have low self-esteem, I just simply drew a blank. I am betting this is more common than not.

I should make more money. I wish I could pay for my kids to do every activity their little hearts desire. I wish when my daughter wanted a new pair of shoes that I could just get them for her, instead of having to shop second hand stores for them and weighing whether it's a need or just a want & what the other  family members need by comparison. I really need to tithe more. 10%?!?! 10%?!?! I know, I know, God will give it back ten fold if you just TRUST him, but 10%?!? There are so many home projects that need done. Big expensive projects too. We need to get a plumber in here; the siding is falling off, it won't survive another winter; the basement has some kind of mold, it's probably causing us all brain damage; the foundation in these plaster walls is crumbling before my very eyes; the fence needs replaced; and these are just the priorities. When are we ever going to have enough overhead to be able to do these things? 

I need to be a better wife. Do you ever just feel so crazy that you know what is coming out of your mouth is completely irrational and yet you are powerless to stop it? This is me, all the time. It's true that we consistently will hurt the ones we love the most. My husband will try to give his opinion on something that I have done with the house, and if it is not completely positive, I totally shut down. Constructive criticism? Doesn't exist in my book. If you're not for me, you're against me. I don't understand why everyone doesn't think and feel the exact same way that I do. Now I know that I am not perfect, and I am able to admit my flaws, but during the moment, I could not be more hurt if my husband doesn't like my dinner, or my painting, or the way that I handled something. I withdraw, I yell, I cry. It is not his fault. It is an insecurity within myself. I should take it. He should be allowed to have an opinion on things. He should be allowed to be honest with me. The same way that I am with him. I don't want him to stop talking to me because he is afraid of what my reaction will be. But that is the direction it's heading if I don't change my ways. Our sense of humor had saved our marriage time and time again. It is being able to laugh at ourselves and our faults that keep us going. 

I should require less validation. Since when did everything I do need to be liked by another person? Social media has a grip on me. I hate to admit it. I sound so lame.  But I am with kids all day. It is my channel to the outside world. It is my someone to talk to when I am feeling alone.  It is my someone to laugh at my jokes when I have a funny thought.  It tells me I'm skinny when I'm feeling fat.  It gives me the pat on the back that I needed when I ate something healthy or ran 3 miles. It is consuming. I check it way more often than I should. Entertains me when I'm feeding a baby, or when cartoons are on, or when I have a moment of silence which I just couldn't wait for all day and then it's like I can't wait to hurry up and drown out my thoughts with the outside world. I really don't like or understand it about myself, but it is true nonetheless. 

The fact of the matter is that I could go on with this all night. I could tell you all the ways that I compare myself to every other woman. And all the ways that I feel insufficient as a mother. As a spouse. As a child of God.  But what I want you to know and what I want you to get out of this, is that you are not alone. You are enough. Your inadequacies are Satan trying to tell you that you can't do this. You don't know what you're doing. You're messing everything and everyone up. It's absolutely NOT grounded in truth. Do you love your children more than anything in the world? Would you do everything you could to protect them? Are you providing a safe home and putting food in their bellies? (It doesn't have to be organic and have no dyes to make you a good mother.) If you answered yes to any of those questions then guess what? You're doing the best you can. And that's all you can do. I always say my kids and I, we're growing up together. They're teaching me as much as I'm teaching them. Every day they mess up, and every day I mess up. And we'll try again tomorrow and the next and the next. 

Happy Mothers Day. It's ok to celebrate your beautiful mess. 

Mommy Meltdowns

The past few days I have been in a mommy meltdown. My patience has been wearing thin slowly over the last year or so. This is how I know that I am in need of a vacation. A vacation for a work at home mom generally means time with another parent helping. So basically, I cannot take time off from my own kids, so a vacation to me is my husband being off of work and home. It has been almost two years since I have had a full week of 'vacation' and it is starting to show.
Everything that could have gone wrong went wrong yesterday. The baby's got woken up from their naps by neighbor kids ringing the door bell.  Gabby got her hand stuck in the drawer, then later she somehow got McKayla's makeup off of her vanity and was playing with it in her crib. She woke up looking like a hooker on steroids. Of course I had JUST given her a bath because she was covered in mud from playing outside. During bath time I realized that I had forgotten earlier I had sprayed "clean shower" all over the tub and was letting it set. Talk about feeling guilt considering I take every precaution necessary not to put any chemicals on my children using only organic sunscreen and paba free soaps.
Asher was not having any better of a day either, he wanted to run through the hose as I was spraying off the deck and quickly became a scraped up muddy mess also. Not to mention, he is going through a time of not wanting to share anything and continually takes every single thing out of Gabby's hands the minute she has it and yells "mine!" I swore to not raise brats but this terrible two phase is only going to get worse as two turns to three which means no end in sight for me.  I did not get any awards for not shaking them either. I briefly allow myself to imagine my sparkly new trophy with a brass nameplate saying " 1st place at keeping them alive another day! " I am possibly picking up two more babies very soon to boot, which means you will find me in a mental institution before you know it. Just kidding, I can handle it. I think.
I love love love working at home. There are far more good days than bad.  Do not take this as any kind of complaint. I just want other moms to know it is ok to not have it all together all of the time. The past few days I have posted some comedic relief about my situation on my Facebook page and today I received a phone call from my sister asking if everything was alright. I think she was afraid that I was losing it. She told me that she finds great relief in seeing other moms that aren't pretending it's all peaches and roses all the time and  that she herself about had a meltdown at the doctors office with her two boys ages 8 & 6, and she could only imagine what it is like in my situation with taking even more kids even younger than that, out of the house several times a day.
She was right, I am part of a group of women being way too hard on myself.  I feel like I'm not the  patient person that I want to be with these kids. I yell, I lose my shit, I let them jump on the furniture from time to time so I can unload the dishes, I cry randomly, I laugh when they say something inappropriate.  I have no room for false pretenses in this house. I am straight forward with the women I work for too. I tell them when their kid is being awful; I tell them when I'm having a bad day; I tell them everything. It is a blessing and a curse of being one of my employers. You get the truth. Always the truth. My promise to them is that I will treat their kid the same way that I treat my own. That is also a good and a bad thing, as many babysitters do not reprimand their clients kids as they would their own. I however, do not know how to take care of children whilst walking on egg shells.
I wrote this self incrimination piece so that women everywhere will start being honest with themselves and with eachother.
So this is for you friend who just walked in with their 5 year old daughter wearing her bathing suit and cowgirl boots.
This is for you friend bribing your 2 year old son not to be a psycho in the middle of the grocery with a blow pop.
This is for you friend who just fed your four kids popsicles for dinner.
I think you're amazing, and real, and perfect. Stop trying to live up to other people's expectations and just get through today. Smile when you feel like smiling, cry when you need to cry, but don't supress and don't try to be someone you're not. There is an entire village of women relying on your pinterest craft to fail and your dinner to burn. Let's help one another survive this parenting thing by laughing at our imperfections! You never know, you may just win yourself a trophy.

Mommy Summer

So let me tell you a story about how things quickly can go from bad to worse. The two one yr olds and my 7 yr old were outside running in the sprinkler. I had put sunscreen all over the kids of course, and we were only out there for about an hour. I did not put diapers on them, I just put them in there swimwear because we were just going to be in the backyard playing and I did not want to waste a swim diaper. I spent the day walking around the backyard picking up dog poop in my bikini. I was praying to God the entire time that nobody would randomly just stop by. As if daunting a bikini is not scary enough, my belly is pastey white compared to the rest of my body, hence wanting to wear it in the backyard before going out publicly. And nothing like 90 degree weather to make the dog poop smell exceptionally wonderful. Nonetheless, I was outside anyway and it needed done, as well as the weeding of the garden and general picking up. Meanwhile, the kids were having a great time. Lots of laughter and smiles. Eventually though,  Gabby was ready to come in. This was about the time that I realize Asher dropped a massive load in the back of his swim trunks. Could he just not go in that exact hour?  I strip him down and hose him off in the backyard. Nothing more classier than hosing the poop off  your sons balls in the backyard. Luckily, he took the freezing cold water in between his cheeks pretty well. Just ignore the big ol turd in the yard. We go inside and they are covered in grass, dirt and sunscreen so I decide to go ahead and throw them in the tub. I get the shampoo in their hair, Gabby is standing up refusing to sit down, and she decides to pull the pin that turns the shower on. The shower turns on and gets the shampoo in her eyes immediately. It is not baby shampoo because I am out, so it burns like the dickens. I know this from experience. She is screaming and while trying to console her, I have Lil Bit get her a washcloth to cover her eyes and then I lay her down in the water to wash the rest of the shampoo out of her hair. She is screaming the entire time and I feel terrible as I am holding her down in the water against her will. As if the burning in her eyes is not enough, she hates to lay down in the tub, but it was the fastest way and I wanted to get her out quickly. At this point,  I'm sweating bullets because its 82 degrees in my house and I'm stressing the f out. Asher still needs out of the tub and Payten takes this of all time to continually ask me if she can get in the tub and negotiate all of the reasons she needs to. Mind you, THiS is is what Gabby looked like right after. I know.... I know...looks bad right? Maybe she's allergic to head n shoulders. Or maybe, just maybe, I was a little over confident today. I didn't look much better myself. Now before everyone goes and calls Children's Services, I want you to know, she looked good as new about 20 minutes later. And, she had really, really, clean hair.

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.