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The TRUTH About Motherhood

Tag: children

  • Count your blessings

    So, I always like to encourage people to count their blessings instead of their problems; You’ll be much happier and have a lot more free time! That being said, seems of late I’ve been a really bitchy a**hole about all things and everything, especially my girls. Maybe its been the lack of sleep, the week day single mothering thing, missing my husband, needing some nookie, stress…who knows what the answer may be. All I know is this is not who I am, but it seems its who I’ve become. Temporarily anyways. I’m working through it and feeling my feelings.  It’s come to my attention that I’ve been spending a lot of time on here complaining about my children. Boo on me for that.
    The reason I am saying boo on me is because I recently, last night when I couldn’t sleep, was checking out some blogs on last weeks FF and I came across one that really touched my heart. The name of the blog is Viva la Vida and I read her “Our Story” and it really reminded me of how truly blessed I really am. This woman and her husband, after being told it was medically impossible, became pregnant. There were complications and she had such a raging case of Hyperemesis Gravidarium that she had to be intravenously fed daily. She couldn’t even keep water down. Because of the condition, the doctor had her get weekly ultrasounds to check on the baby’s well being. As messed up as all this was, she got to see her precious baby grow in utero.Her and her husband were so excited to meet this baby.They had waited so long for their miracle and had held off on knowing the sex. Before her week 24 appointment, they decided to throw caution to the wind and find out the sex of the baby. The night before her appointment, she started feeling extremely sick and constipated. By the following day, their lives had changed forever. (Please go to her blog if you want the entire story. It is not my story to tell  and I can not do it the justice it deserves.) The baby they had watched grow for 24 weeks and had grown to love so much passed away, without warning and without a chance to say goodbye…or even a brief hello.
    Her story touched my heart and made me realize how grateful I am that my babies are with me. That I can touch them, hold them, kiss them, cuddle them, see their faces every morning and watch them sleep. I can watch them grow and get to know them with each passing day. It made me realize how lucky I am that they are here with me to aggravate and annoy me, at times, because being made crazy by them beats being sane without them…any day of the week. She is a brave woman to share her story. I was moved to tears when I read her story. I hope one day she will get to hold her baby boy in her arms again, in heaven.
    I get so caught up in the day to day craziness that is my life that sometimes I forget that “THIS” is everything I ever wanted! My girls are absolutely amazing. They blow my mind with their wit and beauty on a daily basis. Their souls and their intelligence beat that of any grown person,I’ve ever known.  I know women who have lost children before they were born, were still born at full term, who have lost infants, young children, and teenagers and it never seems to get easier or less painful when a Mother loses her children. The void that is left by the loss of a child is one I hope to NEVER know. So I am going to cherish my girls with all I have got for as long as I can,and if you hear me complain again from time to time….forgive me! I’m only human!

  • Queen of the Masses

    Lately, its been a real chore to get my 2 year old, Gabs, to sit quiet and still during mass. I’m sure it has something to do with her being 2, her being bored, it being spring, and a laundry list of other reasons. The main reason being that she is 2. I am lucky enough to go to a church with , what I’d consider, to be one of the highest kid to adult ratios. In fact, I am sure there are more children then there are adults. When children’s liturgy convenes, at minimum, 2/3rds of the church disappears. Yes, they are true Catholics. Some parents have as many as 8 children. God bless them. I have 2 and it feels like 10. What must eight feel like? 40? These women look relatively beautiful and composed. I think I may be one of the most disheveled of the bunch. I always come to mass armed; snack, drink, book, baby, barbie. We normally don’t sit in the crying room because well, the entire church is a crying room (refer to inordinate amount of children:) The girls come in and sit right down in their pretty little matching dresses ( yes, I am one of those Moms. My girls match. Hey, they are 2 and 5, really, how much longer will I be able to do this? Don’t feel too sorry for them. I don’t dress them funny or anything.) and they sit down. They look so innocent. I always think hope that this will be the day. This will be the day they behave for the entire mass. One can dream. Gabs normally gets bored about 3 minutes in; as soon as everyone stands up and she can’t see. I offer to pick her up. I really do. But if her big sister is standing, then darn it, so is she. Then we sit. She starts asking for snacks, quite loudly. “MOmmmmmma…me WANT snack!” Me (whispering. dying of embarrassment): “One second sweetie. Wait til Father is finished with the opening prayer,please.” Gabs: “NOW!!” Yes, I am pretty sure all 5 rows surrounding us, front and back have heard. Hell, let’s be honest…Father heard and now my secrets out. I’m letting my kids snack in church. Shame on me. Last weekend, the bulletin asked that “all parishioners”  keep their area of pews picked up before leaving mass; not leaving behind any wrappers, crumbs, etc. Yeah, I’m pretty sure he was referring to the Cheerios that rain down all over that church. Oops! At least I’m not the only one. I try to keep them picked up but I swear those things have legs. I am bringing one of those tiny hand held Dustbuster in my purse next time. I wonder how they would feel about me leaving behind a child:)
    Anyways, so that is mass. Gabs making up words to all the hymns. Worse yet, she thinks it is hilarious to sing louder than anyone else around her. Her sister, Bella, she doesn’t always sing but she likes to get her groove on at church. She dances and sometimes she tries to make others dance as well (like unsuspecting little copy cat toddlers, who giggle with delight, as I get shot a “can’t you keep your kid still” stare. NO, NO I Can’t. Can you?” As long as it is relatively quiet and and the girls pay as much attentions as their little brains can muster, I am good. A+ for effort. Then, when I think its safe and we are almost outta that joint  until the next weekend, time for Eucharist. The most holy time of the entire mass. The receiving of blessings and the body and blood of Christ. I look forward to it. It helps get me through to the next weekend. The girls always want to accompany me; they think the blessing received from the Father is the best (even though they both have been known to try and swipe a little body of Christ). We head up to the front of church in a line that lasts for about 15 minutes (its a huge church with all these wonderful parents and the plethora of children that they are blessed with). The whole time ,I am praying “Please God just let me make it to Father and safely back to the return trip to my pew!” I know you are thinking , why doesn’t she leave those brats in the pew. Seriously, you know what would happen. They’d scream the entire time.
    This past week, we went to the front. The girls were perfect. They received their blessings, said amen, and promptly turned to return to our seats. I see the light of the open door at the back of the church and I think to myself..one more week, I made it. We’re safe. Or so  I thought. As we are walking back, I am in holy hang your head enjoy the moment mode. I look up and I notice everybody smiling, on the verge of giggling. What the heck. Is my dress tucked in my panties. That’s not very Christian….Help a sister out. Then I see the eyes are fixed on my Gabs. My deliciously wonderful, over the top, not giving a shit what anybody thinks..Gabs! Apparently, she thought she had been elected Queen of the Mass. She was walking down the aisle doing the beauty queen wave to all her loyal subjects, complete with big cheesy Vaseline smile! OMG!!!! I can’t take these kids anywhere.

  • Help, I’ve fallen….

    OK, well maybe I haven’t quite fallen off the Weight Watchers wagon but I am definitely falling. I started this journey about 6 months ago. I had hit the reset button on my  life and was doing really well. I lost 25 lbs in the first 3 months and that is no small feat, especially for a woman in her mid thirties with two small girls. But then a lot of life happened to me and the loss stalled. Problem is its been stalled for about 3 months. I still go get weighed ( even though it is within the same 1 lb every week) and I track my points but this plateau is holding its ground. Now, I don’t know if this is payback for having an eating disorder for 7 years of my younger life and my body is trying to punish me in my old age or if I’ve done something wrong, pissed someone off…or what. All  know is someone needs to push my slightly fat ass back up on that wagon cause I’m quickly losing my footing . Weight loss is an epic adventure no matter what age you are but throw into the mix that your time is monopolized by others who are actually life dependent on you and things get hairy. I am tying to be healthy, to be a good example for my girls…so failure is not an option. I have got to keep at this until it works. Basically, I am in this for the rest of my life. I need to refocus, reset, and restart. Here I go, pulling myself back up on that wagon…hey, that at least has to be good for my arms, right?
     

  • Food Revolution: “When you invite people to think, you are inviting revolution”

    “When you invite people to think, you are inviting revolution” … Ivana Gabara. Did anyone else see the first , or was it the second episode, in which Jamie shared with the kiddos how chicken nuggets are made? I think he disclaimed it with “this is not how they are made “here” (meaning the U.S) but seeing the ribs and the left over parts going into a food processor has stuck in my brain. I can not get that image out of my mind and I don’t 100% believe his disclaimer. All of this time, like a fool, I have been feeding my kids nuggets like its a healthy alternative but its crap. How did I never understand , before Jamie Oliver’s demonstration, exactly what the hell “rib meat” meant? I had no idea it meant actual ribs were ground up into the nuggets. I was thoroughly disgusted with the whole thing. I can no longer, in good conscience, allow my children to eat processed nuggets. There are a plethora of things they are not allowed to eat and that they are only allowed in very limited quantities, but now one more thing is gone. Not to mention, I, myself, will never be able to eat another nugget again. My new thought process is this, if I can’t recognize what body part or animal the meat comes from; we can’t eat it. Now that I am really thinking it over, seeing as I am a recovering vegetarian, going back to that way of life is not such a bad idea. At least with veggies, everything is recognizable and readily available without going through processing. For now, the girls will be sticking with white meat tenders but I’m not sure how long I can go on this way. I think I need to really start researching our food choices because obviously what I thought could pass for a healthier alternative is not! I even went out and bought Jamie’s new cookbook, I guess that was sort of the point, right?LOL Whatever it takes to make sure my kids are eating healthy foods that are good for them. Fool me once, shame on you…fool me twice, shame on ME!

    Jamie’s Food Revolution: Rediscover How to Cook Simple, Delicious, Affordable Meals

  • Parting is such sweet sorrow

    As excited as I was for my husband to come home Friday night, that’s how depressed I am that he has left. They say your first year of marriage is the hardest, and I used to believe that. They also say that the year you have a child, that is a very difficult year in a marriage. Makes sense, the once again shifting of the relationship paradigm. But, that year brought us scary close to one another. It’s sorta like being in war together; you’re scared to death, you are fighting to stay alive ( or at least to be sure that you keep your child alive), and you do some growing up together. It definitely takes it to the next level. Now, we are heading towards are 11th year of marriage (yes, I married at the age of 13:), we’ve just spent year 9 &10 being downsized 3 times. Oh yeah, you heard me correctly. If that is not the test of your marital strength, I don’t know what is. Seriously, in my world, money is the root of all evil; when there is none….I get evil. Not really, but its a stress to have bills coming in and what little income you have going out. But we weathered through it together. Hell, this last time, I didn’t even stress about it. I just said to myself, “Hey, worrying helps no one, it makes my energy all negative..I’m not doing it.” Then there was a job. A wonderful lovely, knight in shining armor job rode in all the way from Iowa on its big metaphorical steed and rescued us. Yey, the day is saved. But all is not what it seems, yes, we are blessed by God to have found employment in this economy so quickly. I know that. But seriously, did it have to be 4 hours away from where we live. Here I am , a wife who actually likes having my husband around a lot, and he is in Iowa. Poor guy is living like a transient it what we refer to as his “hole” , a very nice 1 bedroom apartment furnished with a blow up bed, 2 camping chairs and a few other oddities from our garage. I feel really terrible. I know he is not taking more because he doesn’t want the girls and I to feel as if he actually “lives” there. But the fact of the matter is that he is there more than he is here. I essentially have a long distance marriage at this point. I think if we hadn’t been through so much together already as a married couple and be in such a stable and committed marriage,  this could be dangerous. I used to always use the line, “hey, if I wanted to be alone I would have stayed single.” That was back when we first got married, when I was 12 and apparently really immature and needed to be with him constantly. I used to shutter at the idea of him traveling for business. I guess I’ve learned my lesson. Traveling occasionally would be amazing compared to this situation. It’s kind of exciting, that I get to get all excited to see my husband like when we were first dating but at the same time, the parting is such sweet sorrow! Every Friday, I get all jazzed up like a 15 year old version of myself about to see her boyfriend for a hot date and then Sunday night reality slaps me right across the face and I realize I won’t see my husband for a few more days.I’m not complaining, well maybe a little, but hey what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? After the last couple years of marriage, I think I probably have strength and fortitude the likes of Lou Ferrigno! So, just to recap; job good, money good, having wonderful husband 4 hours away from myself and my girls..bites!

  • Damn you Bree Van de Kamp!

    Anyone who has ever read my blog knows that I am a super advocate of sisterhood. I think that cat fights between women are ridiculous and that if we all spent a lot more time being real and supporting each other, life would be so much better for all of us. Why does it always have to be a competition? My kid does this, does  yours? My husband makes this much money, what does yours make? My house is bigger than yours. It truly is a pissing contest for women! I can keep the house immaculate, my kids listen to everything I say, sleep in their own beds, go to bed at a reasonable hour with no drama, they are reading at a 5th grade level @ the age of four, I eat but can not gain weight, my husband just keeps getting better looking, and my kids are absolute perfection, did I mention they eat absolutely everything I put in front of them. The laundry seems to do itself, I love to cook gourmet meals for every meal, I am completely organic, I made all the baby food and my babies only wore cloth diapers and drank organic, non tainted by caffeine or alcohol breasts milk. P.S. My shit doesn’t stink! I live in a mansion on the corner of bliss and perfection…or was that delusional and insanity?  And you? OK, Bree friggin Van de Kamp…you are not real, you are some convoluted conjuring of what some crazy tv exec thought real life is…not even in the 1950’s, my brother sister!If we’d stop trying to make the other Mommies think we have it all under control without even breaking a sweat, maybe, just maybe we’d have some back up in the trenches instead of one more enemy trying to kill our spirits and crush our souls!
    So, as if that is not bad enough, that we are all running around lying to each other about how perfect and easy our lives are, we are inadvertently (or maybe purposefully) making other women (Mommies ,specifically) feel like they are losers because they don’t think life is easy or perfect and neither are their kids and their husband. I mean ,myself,  I’ve actually winced at the prospect of having to go to the grocery store, been brought to tears trying to figure out what the hell to wear out in public to drop my kids off at some class or other, the dishes make me want to kill someone ( actually just myself..I truly hate dishes!I am not above existing on paper products!), my girls still miraculously end up in our bed in the middle of the night, I have actually been reduced to feeding them cereal for dinner (only once..I promise)….though, I must confess, my kids are pretty perfect….to me! All kids are perfect to their parents! My point is my fellow desperate housewives, we would not all be so damn desperate if we could all just get along! Next time you feel overcome with the need to blow crazy smoke up your own ass, in a coffee induced fog of meanness,  Please remember that Mommy that you are making feel 2 inches tall would probably serve you better as a cheerleader than as a doormat!
    PSA: Please be kind to your fellow Mommies! She is not your enemy, she is your sister, your friend, your confidant, your tether to sanity!

  • Mothers; No matter how old our children may get, they will always be our “babies’

    Today, I had an amazing realization. I used to hate when my Mom or my Mother in Law would call and ask all kinds of questions, or try to tell us what to do, how we should be behaving or spending ( rather saving) our money. It used to drive me crazy, back when I was in my 20’s, before I had my own little precious gems.And now I know, now I understand fully…Now, I also realize I will be 10 times worse! We may be grown up, having our own babies and we think we know everything, but we are still their babies. The same way I still feel like I am 20 (and should look that way too), the same way 10 years pass in the blink of an eye, is the same way my babies will always be my babies. No matter how tall, or old, or big they get…I will always see them through those same rose colored glasses, in those first moments that took my breath and left me gasping for air.It pains me now, at the ripe old ages of 2 and 4 to see them coming for independent. I am proud, of course, but I feel them drifting slowly away from me. I guess that is how it is suppose to be, that is why the teen years are so trying. If they weren’t we would be crying our eyes out and lying in the floor like rumpled towels when they left to college (which I am sure, I still will be…until the transfer, my husband assures me that he sees in our future:) But instead, they hit puberty, turn completely crazy, and this helps ease the pain and instead of holding on for dear life when they leave, we are yelling, “See ya at Thanksgiving, don’t let the door hit ya in the rear:)”But in the end, they are always our children and we are always their Mothers, no matter the age, distance, or time that has passed.

  • Truthful Tuesday!!

    Good morning, my lovelies! It is once again that time of the week. The day that we can come to our safe haven and expunge all of the wreckage of the week from our souls! Don’t be afraid, we won’t bite. Just take your load and dump it here! Happy Tuesday! I’m sure tomorrow will be better!
    So, that being said, here are my 3 (yeah its been that kind of week) for the day; I wish so badly that my 2 year old could wipe her own little butt. It’s not that I don’t like helping her out but this week my back has decided to go out and it is rather impossible for me to bend over to her level to wipe her without doubling over in pain, which at any moment could become permanent form if the back decides to completely seize up. It’s like a really awful game of slots. I am just praying for no whammies!
    I am wishing I could grant my four year old’s wish, to teach her a lesson. Last night, she informs us that she wants to be an only child.Little too late for that one, we have 2 children. I so want to banish her from her little sister for 24 hours so that she knows how much she would truly miss her. Of course, at the mere mention of grounding her away from her sister, she went into hysterics and said she only needed a couple hours!
    OK, I have one more. I wish that I could freaking find my back pain medicine amongst all the rubble that is my slowly but surely unpacked house. You know the house I just packed up in January and moved 1/2 way across the country,only to have them inform us 7 days later that we would be returning home. Not to be stuck on repeat but I am perfectly within my rights to be pissed at this situation.All 10 of the times I was searching for my meds in the past 3 days, I have wanted to kick somebody’s teeth in. I have yet to hurt anybody and the meds are still lost in space. I know you are wondering, “Why doesn’t she go see her Dr. and get more?” The answer is simple,with the return home and the downsizing, we lost our insurance.So there you have it, the gift that just keeps on giving!!! Hugs all around!!

  • FYI, 4’s the new 16!

    Have you heard that new saying that 40’s the new 20? Well, I don’t know who’s believing that load of crap but I’m pretty sure its not the 20 year olds and I’m fast approaching the 40 year end of the spectrum and I’m not believing it for a second. So, Oprah..please stop perpetuating this myth. First, there was the Million little Pieces guy and now this. Come on Oprah, just because you are spoon feeding it to us…some things I just refuse to believe. So, to be straight 40 is not the new 20, no matter how bad we want to believe it and 50’s not the new 30 either Oprah:)However, I am beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, 4 is the new 16. The other day, my 4 year old, who very frequently throws around “fact of the matters” and “Actually Mom…” spat out a “FYI..Grandma…” and then soon thereafter, floored me. We were on a road trip, we stopped at a rest area to avoid some bad weather, during a brief round of chit chat, I , funny Mommy that I am, cracked a very tiny joke at my 4 year olds expense. Now mind you, I thought this joke was about 100 miles above her head. No way she knew what I was talking about or even remotely that I was speaking about her. As far as I was concerned, all she knew was I was speaking to her in what I assumed sounded like Chinese (because it was so far out of her grasp of understanding) and I amused myself. It was late, I was slap happy, I giggled. To which my dear sweet 4 year old, with all the attitude of a 16 year old about to flee the premises with her newly issued drivers license ( or what I remember me being like at 16) looks at me, with her hand on her hip, her hip popped out, and her eyes rolling back in her head.These are the words that came flowing out of her mouth so seamlessly that I had to check myself for my own hearing, ” LoL Mom, LOL!!” Complete and utter silence, followed by the eerie sound of crickets. WTH??? Are you kidding me? I was so baffled that I was speechless. She used it in complete context. I don’t know where she learned to speak in IM language or if she really understood what she said but I do know that I don’t want to know the truth and I want my 4 year old to be 4. In a world where heels are made for newborns, low rise jeans are made for toddlers, and make up is almost a pre requisite for preschool….I choose to believe that this was a complete coincidence.as a sidebar, I have also decided I am going to make a concerted effort to not use the term “LOL”… ever again.

  • Incapacitated and Dominated; Whack Back Pain Leaving you at the Mercy of your Children

    Incapacitated and Dominated; Whack Back Pain Leaving you at the Mercy of your Children

    back pain

    Back Pain ~This morning was a morning to end all mornings. I woke up, in our apartment in Virginia, where we are residing temporarily until we relocate from our home in the Midwest. The morning was progressing normally until the coffee machine, percolating my much needed fuel for the day, decided to explode. As I was texting my friend, back at home, having a great chit chat I heard a gurgle, followed by a distinct sputter, followed by a pop and a long hiss. I turned around, just in time to see my, much needed, life line turn into an eruption of Mt Saint Dunkin Donuts coffee…all over the pristine white cabinets in the corporate housing that my husband’s new company is paying for.

    Back Pain is incapacitating

    In true “Mommy can do everything” mode without breaking a sweat, I turned quickly, discarded my phone ,mid text,ran for the laundry room and grabbed a towel to soak up the mess and avert any real damage. I was on it, little did I know that in my haste, I had pulled my back. All that animated mad dashing was not tolerated so well by my not yet fully awake body. To add insult to the back injury, the aforementioned towel that I used to throw on the floor to soak up the eruption, it was fully loaded with sand from our weekend beach trip.

    Amidst all the chaos that is unfolding, my 4 and 2 year old are eating breakfast and watching cartoons, looking over at me only briefly, as if to say ” That nutty Mommy, there she goes again.That crazy kid is always into something!” Not until midway through cleaning up the mess did I realize that I had pulled my back. While I was soaking up the mess, I was putting the shrapnel of the morning away. As I half heartily set my large, toffee flavored coffee creamer into the fridge ,atop something or other, it came tumbling back at me and crashing onto the floor, where it oozed its contents all over my newly cleaned floor. To be honest, it was more like it was hurled at me by some unforeseen, Mommy hating entity living within the confines of my refrigerator.

    Back Pain is violating

    When I tried to clean that mess up, that is when my back began to spasm uncontrollably and I could not regain the upright position. As I inched across the kitchen floor, walking in a position that very closely resembled the evolution of man, whimpering and wincing in pain, I called to my eldest to come to my aid. “Bella, help Mommy! Please get another towel and soak up the creamer.” Her response,”Shua Momma,” I don’t know where or how she does it but sometimes she speaks with a distinct Brooklyn accent.What a little angel, I thought to myself.

    I make for the bed and lie down, and try to gently stretch the charlie horse that is in my lower back out, but it is refusing to cooperate. In tears, I roll myself out of bed, after all I am home alone with my 4 and 2 year old. I slowly make my way back to the scene of the crime, the girls are back to eating breakfast. I choke down 3 ibuprofen and realize , I am in a strange place and do not have access to my heating pad and my husband won’t be home for about 8 hours so I’m definitely going to need to get some physiotherapy done.

    Oh, the humanity! At this point, I realize I am so far beyond being up a creek without a paddle that I am more closely to being in the ocean without a life preserver. I know for sure that I needed to opt for osteopata savona to end this agony.

    Back Pain is Humiliating

    Up until this point, my girls were behaving pretty well. Then they finished breakfast and realized that I was incapacitated and could not effectively enforce any of my rules;like no running in the house, no writing on each other with marker, no eating snacks like Cheetos and cookies before lunch, no wearing your bathing suits around the house as clothing, no laying every DVD in the house out on the floor as you play hopscotch on them, no yelling every single sentence at the top of your lungs, or no washing your entire body down with the foaming hand soap if you can’t reach the faucet to rinse off. Yes, they realized I could do nothing and they did everything they wanted, and all I could do was watch and cry a little.

    I never thought coffee could leave me completely incapacitated and totally dominated and at the mercy of my children. Now that I do, I may have to give it up.That’s a pretty heafty price to pay for a little get up and go! I got no coffee but my morning sure got up and went… straight to hell real fast, taken there by my two ,otherwise, little angels. Lesson learned; apparently when Mommy’s incapacitated (back pain running rampant), there is hell to pay.