The Days are Long, The Years are Short- LOVE

It really is true.
What all those annoying people have said about your kids growing in the blink of an eye.

I haven't written in a long, long, time.
I guess I have no excuses since I am always busy, and I am always a perfectionist about what I post.
So this time I'm convinced I have writer's block.
Pretty tired of listening to the bullshit in my own head, so I decided to write what comes.

Oh, and I'm sure it will suck.
It's been a long time.

Life is life, but life with kids is Life times a hundred.

(I really would love for someone to make comment, or give me a topic or ask a question, and I will write about it.)
I want to post once a week again.)

Currently, things are not as crazy at the Davis house.
Emma is becoming more civilized, which I really never thought would happen.
Seriously, when others told me parenting is rewarding, I would say, "it's not fucking rewarding for me".
Not Rewarding YET, they would tell me....  Not Yet.

Well, I have been rewarded lately.
Emma started kindergarten.
She is bringing me joy, rather than daily heart ache and I wanna kill you kid ; which is new for me.
She is maturing and ceasing to fight all things, namely ME.
I have been so accustomed to telling her No, and watching her scream for 20 minutes.....every 20 minutes.
She really is changing.
Don't get me wrong, she still screams.
But she is  eager to do her homework, and learn her words and write her sentences.
She looks me in the eyes and she sees me, and I see her.
She takes a moment.
She laughs at herself.
She asks me how to spell everything so she can write new words in her little notebook.
She loves her classmates.
She hugs her teachers when she arrives and when she leaves.

I watch her when she's not looking.
She is kind to that kid that no one plays with;  she shares her food, and holds her friend's hands as they run in the play ground.
She is growing up and I like her.
I actually really like her.


Jaxson is talking non- stop.
He's in pre-school this year three times a week for 4 hours.
The teacher said, " he doesn't like to follow directions."
(hmm, interesting, neither do I)
He has stopped smearing his poop, but he still wears a diaper, so I'm not sure who wins there.
At least I am not cleaning up shit off of walls and crib bars anymore.
He runs around pretending like he is spider man and sometimes a monster, any monster will do.
Everything he holds becomes a gun.
I swear, he just did that naturally.
He still has temper tantrums but if I pretend to cry, he will at least laugh a minute.
He's 3, so, he is still half adorable apple of my eye, and half monkey/ mental patient.
He is getting so much easier.
I'm not sure if that is a tease, or  if it's happening in real life.

I have been enjoying parenting so much more lately.
I make myself STOP and STOP what I'm doing, because it's usually not that important.
When I stop, I can calm down.
Instead of going to that place called : You are driving me craaaaazzzzy! I wish you would just get through this stage.
I am accepting the stage they are at.
Even though I stay home with them, I am not always "there".
Sometimes I am some"where" else.


When they were babies, I wanted them to crawl, I wanted them to walk, I wanted them to talk.
When they were home full time, I wanted them to start school, I wanted them to play together.
I wanted them to stop fighting with each other .

A lot of the time I wanted them to do things that they were not capable of doing.
It was my selfish human need to MAKE things go my way.

That is never going to work with my kids, they go and do in their own time, in their own rhythm.
Don't we all?

Now, I wish I could stop time and spend a few years with them now, the way  they are now.

I want them to know if they do ever read this, that I love them more than I thought I could love.

Picture Perfect: Pampers and Post Partum are Precious

Why do mothers with new borns on T.V. look so emotionally adjusted and skinny?
I have never seen a pudgy, emotionally drained, un-showered mom on a Pampers commercial.
I know that's what I looked like a week after I came home from the hospital.
Actually, pudgy isn't the word, I still looked pregnant.
I remember staring at myself in the mirror in the hospital room bathroom, sobbing, asking my husband if I was going to look like that forever.
No one ever told me that I was still going to look 3 months pregnant AFTER I had my baby.
I felt slightly betrayed by all my closed lipped friends who had children before me.
Now, I understand because I smile and nod at any new pregnant mom too.
Really, how can you articulate the BOMB that is about to be dropped on them, and their (great) husband.

I felt like I wasn't really told any of the nitty gritty.....
Especially,, with my second.
Especially after the honeymoon was over and the night nurses were still at the hospital.(and I was at home)
Especially, when I was hunched over trying to nurse in that cute rocking chair (I registered for at Babies R Us) at 2am with a paisley designer boppy and a screaming baby.
It all looked so fun when I wore that cute kelly green sundress to my baby shower and opened gifts while giggling.
I knew it was going to be a lot of work, but I didn't fully grasp the level of work.
I loved all the excitement,and the guiltless consumption of anything with ice cream, butter or ice cream.

Then the baby came out and my entire world was beautifully altered, while crumbling simultaneously.
Having a child is one of the most profound and permanent life changers on the planet.
So why in the HELL are we expected to look cute, thin, and smile?

Really, it's a joke.

I just pushed a small person out of my vagina........you only need 6 weeks, get back to work!


Seriously, why don't we talk about real life, better yet SHOW real life on T.V.
Maybe then we could be honest about how much it takes to raise children.
How much it really takes.



This is a time line from pregnancy to new motherhood to Toddlerhood.

It is NOT what they show on the pamper's commercials.
Parenthood is messy.



FIRST PREGNANCY:

I can't wait to have this baby
I LOVE being pregnant.
Maternity clothes are cute.
I love picking all of this baby stuff out!!!!
I am going to nurse my baby, I can't wait! (so natural and easy)
I'm pregnant, and I want everyone to know !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LABOR:
I think I am going to die.
I'm now sure I will die
This is the worst pain ever, what was I thinking?
I can't PUSH anymore.
I WILL NEVER DO THIS AGAIN.(telling husband while crying)
GET AWAY FROM ME. (yelling at husband while crying)
2-3 hours of pushing (possible b.m. on delivery table)


HOLDING BABY AFTER DELIVERY
I want to do this again.
This is the best moment of my life.



LEAVING HOSPITAL WITH MY NEWBORN:

You mean I have to take this baby home and keep it alive?(maybe just one nurse can come?)
No Nurses, no pain killers? (anxiety rising)
Gaping vagina (bleeding) wearing a pad the size of a king size bed mattress.
A.K.A Maxi pad Andre the giant would wear if he had a period.
Am I going to look pregnant/fat forever? (looking in the mirror while crying, asking husband.)

HOME WITH BABY (3 weeks in):

NOOOOOOO YOU CAN'T GO TO WORK (sobbing, holding onto husband's leg)
(post-partum depression kicking in) telling self: I'm Fine, I'm fine....
Are you ever going to stop crying?
I've had to pee for 3 hours.....
Peeing with baby on lap.
Nurse
Nurse again
Pee again with baby on lap, while nursing (can't poop- it hurts too much)
Call husband with list to pick up at the store- including more Andre the Giant sized pads
Nurse again
Stare at a wall while baby sleeps trying to form a thought.
Nurse again.
Nurse again and again



HOME WITH ONE YEAR OLD:

Please walk , I can't wait
OH NO..... you're walking!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Lock every cabinet
never sit down unless it's nap time.
take that out of your mouth, don't eat that, we don't eat mulch.
Don't stick that entire banana in your mouth.


HOME WITH TWO YEAR OLD:

I think I want to go back to work
pre-school takes 2 year olds?
You're in Time Out.
Play date planned for "socialization skills to develop" really for mine to develop.
My brain is mashed potatoes, cannot remember anything unless I write it down.
You're in Time out
You're in Time out
You're in Time out

HOME WITH THREE YEAR OLD:

You are now a 2 year old X 3. (awesome)
I thought I loved you.
What happened to you?
Will you be in diapers forever?
Say please.
Say no thank you.
Don't throw that.
You're in Time out
Play date?
You're going to your room and Im locking the door.

(stages 4- 5 will be tended to after I re-cover fully from my PTSD)

2nd PREGNANCY:

This isn't half as fun as the first.
I am instantly fat and no one even knows Im pregnant yet.
I want to have 2 kids, but I dont actually want to have this baby.

Gave birth to Baby -


NOW I REALLY HAVE 2 KIDS:

HEEEEELLLLLP!
(week 3) Call husband daily crying asking him to come home
The baby is easier than the toddler.
WHAT WAS I THINKING?
Look at clock at 5:25pm daily and tell self - "he'll be home in 5 minutes, he'll be home in 5 minutes."

Is something burning?
NO- it's my hair, my hair is on fire.

The Power of Thought- at Airports, in Airplanes with Poop.

We sat in the San Francisco Airport.
Well, I sat, as my kids jumped on every seat,and ran up and down every crevice of the gate area.
They were chasing each other, screaming, yelling and laughing.
Fortunately, they had befriended two other toddlers their age to run with, who were equally as loud, and equally as annoying.
Other airport patrons politely avoided all four of them.

There was a pretty blonde in a tailored grey suit, sitting with her lap top and pursed lips as she typed away thinking, will that mom control her children?
I knew she was thinking that.
She didn't have to say anything.
I had proof.
I have observed many a childless women.
I wanted to rip her lap top off of her perfectly ironed skirt lap, and say,
"LOOK BITCH, YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M DEALING WITH HERE. THERE ARE NO WORDS FOR THE MESS MY LIFE HAS BECOME TODAY- SO HAVE SOME FUCKING COMPASSION."
The fantasy felt so good as I sat there and acted it all out in my mind.
She got up and moved to a different spot.
The power of thought.


The mom of the other kids looked so much more serene and together than me. She smiled and laughed as if she was enjoying watching them be totally obnoxious.
I tried to pretend I loved my kids too.
Really, I wished I had purchased that benadryl I was on the fence about buying, since it was for sedation purposes only, (not hives).

"Let all the energy out... get all the wiggles out!!" she said like a happy pre-school teacher.
The perfect looking mom encouraged them with a patient, nurturing, enthusiastic voice.
Three things I felt not an ounce of in that moment.
I said nothing.
I Figured it was a safe bet to just fake a half smile because what I really wanted to do was,"Shut the fuck up and sit down, I've had it with you, and I don't know your kids lady, but so far, they're only making it worse."

I looked at my phone, pretending to read something important.
Hoping that some day, some day, I could read an article or comprehend the N.Y. times again.

My anxiety continued to increase as I anticipated the 5 hour flight ALONE.

I watched the other mom and continued to make the case that not only was she a better mom than me, she was an expert at flying with small children.
No, I did not know her name, it was the first time I had ever seen her.
Although, she did look familiar.
I think she fit the image of all the perfect moms I see that have never yelled at their kids, and pack snacks like raisins and organic rice cakes with gluten-free toppings.
I had lollipops and Starburst stashed in my bag, along with a video game and a bag of cheetos.
Oh, and my ATM card wasn't working, so when I went to buy some fruit for my kids I didn't have enough money.
Oh, and I had forgotten my lap top at my dad's house, so movies were also out of the question.
I knew I had to change my attitude and pray away the funk, or the flight was going to suck really bad.

Finally, it was time to board.
Or should I say, sit and wait for an hour in comfy airplane seats until take-off time.
We stumbled down the plane aisle with all of our carry-on crap.
Emma was close behind me crying and whining (yes, at the same time) because Jaxson was kicking her in the butt as she walked.
He was laughing.
There we were, a spectacle, again, as we boarded the smallest human space in the world: the airplane.
Our seats were all the way in the back of the plane.
So that made it more fun for Jaxson.
He had all the more time to kick Emma's ass while we made it to the seats.
Then we were stopped mid plane aisle, while people put their baggage in the over head bins.
Jaxson started pulling Emma's hair and I had to tell him to stop hurting his sister in that, "I am a good mom who can control her 3 year old son voice."
Emma was sobbing at this point, "my hair hurts....can you give him a time out?????"

A friendly man to my right with half a head of black hair chuckled and gave me a re-assuring look.
"Enjoy them now!" He said gleefully.
"My daughter is 23 and my son is 26, I miss those days."

I could barely respond accordingly.

What days do you miss sir?
The days when your're kids constantly beat each other's asses on airplanes?
Or, do you miss the days of being a stay at home mom, sir??????
Sorry sir, thanks for the sentiment but you can shove it, and shove it hard.
Again, a fantasy in my head that I played out, before I responded in real life.

All I could do was sadly chuckle,"I'm trying." I said.
Meanwhile, I dragged Jaxson by the arm as he reached for a clump of Emma's hair.

Finally, we made it to our seats.
I smelled poop.
It was a bad one, not the poopy diaper that stays in the immediate vicinity.
The poopy diaper that will turn a head and make a nose twitch.
It was a doozy.
I was doomed because I knew it wasn't the other kids in front of us.
It was my son.
Literally, 30 seconds passed while I was getting my poopy diaper changing plan organized in my mind.
I had many factors to consider: the postage stamp sized bathroom with no changing table, my stubborn son who fights diaper changes, and the other child I had to leave unattended while I wiped the butt and disposed of the stink bomb.

As I began reaching for my diaper bag, the stewardess walked by with a big smile and said,
"Smells like somebody needs a diaper change over here!!!"

I won't be writing the fantasy I played out in my head about my response to her.
I can say that a particular Delta stewardess may be die unexpectedly with a poopy diaper at her feet.

Summer is here. Bummer? Summer ? NO.

Summer is here.
It's hot, it's bright, the days are long, the nights feel shorter.
The pool is a daily staple.
The days are long.
Did I mention that the days are long?

My kids are together most days, all days with me, and perhaps a few other lucky moms.
That means I get to see them fight, get along. fight, get along. Laugh, hit each other again. Fight again, scream, cry, get along. Play a game like they're best friends, fight over the game, cry.
Chase each other around, fall, cry, blame the other one for hitting, hit back, get up.
Do it all over again.
Oh, and Jaxson gave emma her first fat lip with a water gun.
Really, what a joy.

Summer makes me think about my mom.
My childhood.
I remember so many little things.
Small memories.
Imprints in my mind.

The traditional trip we would take to Lake Tahoe every summer for two months.
Where the water was pure blue liquid cold.
The kind of cold that made your skin numb and your hair freeze.
Then the hot sun made it all feel good.
The sandy turkey and cheese sandwiches, the cheez wiz on wheat thins and the smell of hot wine coolers.
The smell of pine needles and inter tubes.
Sun tan lotion and sun-in.
Do you remember Sun-in?

My mom was single.
She was not the sad single mom that men ran from.
She was the pretty, robust, slightly nuts (in a fun kind of way) mom, that all the men
fell in love with.
She had a few suitors, but she pretended they were all just "friends".
When I would say, "Mom , Michael is totally in love with you." (annoying 10 year old valley girl voice)
She would say,"oh stacie, come on, we are just friends."

Come July, we would start getting ready for our adventure.
If there wasn't enough money to go, my mom would pawn some jewelry, or write a bad check.

We had a cat, McKenzie, two dogs, Tasha and Stormy, and a parrot,Daffy.
Tasha and Stormy were black labs and Tasha was blind in one eye.
It was her left eye that was blind, and it was dark blue and glossy.
She literally ran around in circles.
Daffy was our green parrot.
My kind and moral brother Jesse, taught Daffy how to say hello and fuck you.
Daffy was mostly an asshole who either bit you, or said fuck you randomly.

They all came in the car with us.
It was a shit brown toyota corolla with a bumper sticker that said- " You had one of those days? I have one of those lives."
We would also rent a u-haul, which made the four hour ride that much longer, and only drew that much more attention.

My mom always wore cut off daisy duke jean shorts in the summer.
She would wear a t- shirt with a american flag on it or a cheesy rainbow.
She was a size double D .
She always smelled like copertone. (even in the winter.)

So there we were: my mom and her daisy dukes,
The parrot , the two dogs , the cat.
My brother was Judd Nelson from the breakfast club.
My sister was a big 80's dork with braces and a shirt that said "Bo Derek is a 10.... I'm a 15,"
And myself.

We would argue and hit each other most of the way there.
My brother called the punches to the leg muscle "charlie horses".
They hurt so bad we would laugh.

For some occasional entertainment, we held up a few paper signs with scribbled letters that said things like : honk if your horny and honk if you think we look like national lampoon's vacation.

Then there was the customary half way stop at the same restaurant.
It was called Sam's off highway 50.
My mom would always order a bloody mary with extra celery.
My sister and I would order shirley temples and my brother would tell us we were "Lame" for ordering them and make fun of us the entire lunch.
We would get back in the car and all the animals would assume their positions.
Daffy was always on my mom's shoulder.
There was bird shit all over her right shoulder.

Finally,
We would arrive with excitement and call the rooms we wanted in the cabin.
The deck was our favorite spot to hang out.
The Pine trees stood tall and green and the air was fresh and real.
The cabin was always a 70's motif and smelled like an old fire from the winter guests.

As the weeks passed, we would fill the rooms with the smells of sun tan oil, cigarettes, and barbeque steaks.

About a week into our vacation,
My mom would take us to these beautiful waterfalls.
We had to hike quite a ways to get there, it took about an hour.
Then, we would have our own watering hole to swim in and dive from the highest rock.
It was hot.
We would complain about how thirsty we were as we would hike the hills.
We never brought a cooler with water or food, just towels and sun tan lotion.

My mom carried her benson and hedges lights 100's in her jean shorts back pocket.
The pocket had a 60's patch on it that was a big crimson red pair of lips.

She pulled the cigarettes out of her pocket and slipped the cellophane wrapper off the pack.
Then she skillfully held the cellophane wrapper under one of the small waterfalls on the edge of the mountain to fill it with water.
We each got a cigarette wrapper filled with delicious, fresh spring water.
You could only faintly taste the tobacco remnants.
That ice cold fresh water quenched our thirst like no other water.

I thought my mom was a genius.
Small memories imprinted in my mind.

Ah........................ Summer.

Life's a beach and then you .......?

I don't know why I always feel the need to write a blog when I am going fucking crazy.
Maybe it's cathartic to tell the truth.
In hopes that someone will read it and hear me inside their crazy life.

I felt like a terrible mom on Thursday.
I screamed and yelled at my kids and threw my Nike running shoes across the room.
Then I sat in my car in the driveway and listened to NPR for 5 minutes just to get away from them.
Oh, and on Friday, I sat on the toilet in the bathroom stall at the YMCA and cried (the silent, shaking, martyr cry), hoping no one would see me.
I just felt so pent up and tired of life, kids, money and my insane thoughts.
Thoughts like: would a mental institution give me some time away, some peace, a quiet bed and tranquilizers?
And really and truly, I had no idea parenting was going to be this demanding....really I had no clue.
Why then, when I see a sweet little baby in a mother's warm arms, do I want another one????? (re:mental institution fantasy)

OR, for that matter- am I just a terrible parent?
I said shit and fuck in front of my 4 and a half year old today.
Who gives a fuck!

It's been a long month.
I ran a half marathon (almost died).
I've been protesting the Atlanta public school system to keep our neighborhood school open.
My neighbors and I realized that there is still segregation in Atlanta, in the year 2012.
Shocking.
I find few things in life shocking, but that one is sad.
Is Moral courage something you learn?

Then, we went to Pensacola for a family vacation.
I had very low expectations because I haven't quite experienced that "vacation" feeling before, amongst toddlers, I mean, my kids.
It's usually more stressful to be away from home, but somehow, we got a reprieve - well, some of the time.
I was surprised, I did relax (some of the time), and we had a great vacation.

Yes, the kids fought and made messes, and broke something in the condo.(woops, forgot to tell them.)
Jaxson threw Matt's credit cards down the deck slats, after desperately searching for them, he found them the next day in the parking lot.
Jaxson also lost my keys and we finally found them under the comforter after a frantic 45 minute search.
Emma peed in the pool while announcing it to all the people lying by it.
One woman looked so disgusted, I thought she was going to tell the managers to remove her sassy ass.
So, trust me, it was not without perils.

The car ride to and from was also pretty grueling.
Mostly the serene sounds of fighting, screaming and pleas for a new snack every five minutes.
Emma asked me over and over again if she could throw her brother in the garbage.
My response was, "CAN I?"

I really enjoyed being with Matt, we had fun.
We laughed and lost our minds breaking up sibling rivalry and washing sand out of hair and butts.
I realized how much I missed him, being away from it all.
The stresses of everyday life seemed to fade.

I told Matt he was in isolation.
Essentially because he couldn't go to work... he had no escape.
Sounds petty, but he was getting a taste of my everyday life (minus the paradise beach setting), and I secretly enjoyed that.

Even at a beautiful white sand beach with clear blue water and soothing breeze, there was still a shitty diaper to change and bickering toddlers to bribe.

There was a dock just outside of our condo.
It stretched for hundreds of feet out to the ocean.
The kids ran back and forth and back and forth screaming and jumping.
They marveled at all the fish and little crabs, seeing things for the first time.
Yes, I had visions of them falling in the ocean and how I would promptly save them.

They threw sand at each other and ran through the waves.
I watched the gleam in their eyes, and the wonder in their smiles.
We were in the moment.

Emma loved the pool, all she wanted to do was swim in the pool because the sand was "too dirty."
Jaxson used the pool rails as monkey bars and threw my visor and sun glasses in the pool about 100 times.
He tried to climb into the garbage can and ate random pieces of food off the the ground.
Emma found candy in an oil puddle at the gas station and ate it. It was still in the wrapper so I didn't intervene.
Boundaries, I'm learning boundaries.

I thought about my mom when I would lie on the beach or look at the vastness of the ocean.
I thought about her ashes floating somewhere in the pacific.
I missed her, I have fond memories of our beach days growing up.
I could smell the copertone on her legs and taste of the cheese whiz and crackers.

I wished she could be there to meet my kids.
I can't believe my mom hasn't met my kids

Maybe she does see my kids.
Maybe she has met my kids in her own way.

I shed a tear or two as I watched Matt and Jax and Emma run along the shore.
I shed a tear or two just because....
There was no real reason.

Just a full heart, even in the midst of all the days I wanna pull my hair out.

I'm sad, and I'm happy... kinda like parenting, I love them and I wanna pull their hair out.

Change Changes You

I've been thinking a lot about change.

How my kids have changed me , how sobriety has changed me, how my heart and mind have changed.
How my geography has changed, how my friends have changed, how my body has changed. (code for:I used to have better boobs and stomach).

Maybe it's because I just had a birthday, and I have one more year till 40.
Maybe it's because living life changes you.
Or maybe living life is just full of changes.

Divorce changed me as a kid
Marriage changed me as an adult.
Certainly, my children have changed me forever.

If I think about how much bigger my heart has gotten since having my children, I cry.
Not just tears of joy.
Tears of fear, tears of sadness and just plain tears.

Change is inevitable.
Change is good.
Change has blindsided me.
No control.
I guess I illude myself, thinking I have some control of the chaos in a house with small kids.
There's a lot of laughing and crying.
That changes from hour to hour.
Certainly, I can't control that.

I already tried to control Emma, it was a pointless exercise.
Now, I just give her boundaries.
She wears one pink cowboy boot and one brown cowboy boot.
Scratch that, correction from emma, they are cowGIRL boots.
She is who she is.
It's hard to look in the mirror.

I have had to grow up a lot.
I'm 39 and I still have many childish moments.
Especially, when my I have my own tantrum, not my 2 year old.

Emma and Jaxson change all the time.
They change their minds, their feelings and their likes/dislikes.
Emma sleeps one night and wets the bed the next.
Jaxson wakes up in a bad mood on Sundays.
No rhyme or reason.

I don't want to analyze it, I just want to be here with them now.

Thursday, I hated being a mom. I wanted to leave them in the living room kicking and screaming and go for a long walk off a short pier.

Saturday, I loved being a mom. I sat and laughed with my son, he kissed and climbed all over me. He got snot all over my face and hummus from his snack in my hair, and I didn't care.

Last week, my husband and I bickered one day, I took it personally.
I cursed him in my mind.
Friday, he couldn't find the car keys.
He cursed me in his mind.
Saturday, all was forgotten, we laughed, we endured Emma's melt down together in the car and rolled our eyes (partly with love).

Ups and downns.
I know for sure that there are many.
If my perception would change, perhaps the downs could be more up.

The changes keep happening.
Since I married Matt and birthed these 2 multi- faceted monkeys, one thing hasn't changed....
I have never had so much to lose.

I hope that doesn't change.

2 year olds, toilets, temper tantrums and sobriety don't mix

Im not sure wether to laugh or cry.
I won't lie- I've been crying a lot this week.
I did run out of my Lexapro for a couple of days,
was that why?
Jaxson did ruin my comforter with lip gloss stains.
That must me why.
Oh, and he also flushed the plastic black and white dog and blond haired little people down the toilet.
The plumber fixed it, after almost dismantling the toilet to get them out.
Shortly after the plumber left, there went the dog and the little people again.
Maybe that's why.
Oh! I know, Jaxson has decided 5am is a conveniant time to start EVERYDAY.
That must be why.
I realize the toilet doesn't matter, my comforter doesn't matter.... sleep issues are usually temporary.
Bullshit. But.......
These are the things I am trying to tell myself.
Truly, it is the hope that things will change tomorrow, or that bed time is just an hour away. These are that get me through the days when I WISH I could give my kids up for adoption.
Surely I would be devastated. Right?
Aren't the terrible two's just a fleeting phase?
Nothing is fucking fleeting about it these days.

I walked in to Kroger on Friday with puffy eyes, and a pity pot stuck on my butt.
I was tired, crabby, hungry, and stressed.
I had just dropped Jaxson off at pre-school for that long 3 hour interval of time.
He had a 15 minute temper tantrum that lasted the drive to school and the walk into his classroon.
I was so exhausted from the 5 am wake up that I almost left him kicking and screaming on the wet side walk.

I love you, I hate you, you're annoying, You're my everything, I hate it when you do that, I love you, I hate you, you're the cutest thing I've ever seen, I need a picture of that, I might choke you right now..... This is what it feels like to be a parent.

I have been sober for almost 12 years.
I stared at that bottle of red wine at Kroger on Friday.
I was tempted. I could sneak it, no one would know.
It looked so warm and smooth- it would be like velvet wrapping around my heart, like silky potion slipping down my throat.
Ah, that bottle of wine looked good.
STOP!!!! alarms started ringing in my head.
Im sober . Im sober. I can't do that. I don't want to drink.
I just want some relief from how I feel.

Then I went to my friend Anna's house and her two year old was crying.
I already felt better.
My friends Hollie and Tia came over with their kids.
We watched our 6 kids dance and sing to Justin Beiber and laughed at how free they were.
We sat together and cried a little about our weeks.
Looking into Hollie's teary eyes made my eyes teary but it made my heart less heavy.

We are all trudging the road.
We all have the same thoughts.

I felt better.
We all felt better.
Because we just can't do this thing alone.

Google it

Christmas break was like a roller coaster, well, honestly it was a shit storm.
In short, it was too long.
And we we celebrate Hannukah, not Christmas.

After many hours/days of rain, I wanted to scream, yell and break small objects with large hammers.
So, I yelled at my kids too much, and felt guilty.

For about a week, I was just really down in the dumps.
I pretended like I was doing fine.
I didn't want to be a grump around the holidays, but I was on the inside.
I was growling and grumping and hating most people in crowded parking lots and stores.
I knew I was creating my own reality and I couldn't seem to change it.
I felt like pig pen with that smelly, gloomy cloud lingering above my head.
I still exercised and did stuff with the kids and my husband.
I just felt like a crunchy chip, about to break at any point.

When I feel awful, I have a tendency to fuel it like a fire.
Add another match, another newspaper page, another match, and see how big the flames can get.
It's a sadistic game.
The flames start taking over my mind, and soon enough it's a fire of negativity.

It all started with Google.
I google things that I feel, or predict I will be feeling in the future.
And all things that may happen as a result of feelings I may feel in the near future of which are usually very unrealistic.
I had a terrible cough, so I started to google Lung cancer symptoms. That made for a great wednesday.
Then I googled, unbearable 4 year old.
Then I googled, unbearable siblings that are also my children. That was during, and prior to hair pulling and fighting over meaningless, stupid toys that neither of them ever play with.
The googling continued..... Benji the movie playing in the background and an occasional blood curdling meow from the kitten being chocked by Jaxson.
Why do husbands still get to do whatever they want?
Can a four year old truly manipulate?
Is it normal for a 2 1/2 year old boy to be violent?
How many brain cells do you lose after pregnancy?
And now for the most important google- DO THEY EVER COME BACK????

Am I disillusioned, or is it really maddening to spend millions of hours with toddlers?
I want milk, I want to paint my face with water colors and wear dumb princess outfits, I want to stick stuffed animals and paper clips down the toilet. I want to curl up in the fireplace and smear soot all over my face, I want to throw my food, I want to spill my milk for the fucking 20th time. I want to ask for something to eat and not eat it.
Is this supposed to be joyous? It's not.

In my rut throughout the week, I was on and off the pity pot.
I went to my friend Lori's house and she had a poem on her wall that really struck me.
It stopped me in my tracks.
It changed my perception.
It opened my heart again.

Really, I hate to admit it but I was regretting my choice to me a mom.
I was feeling depressed and tired of all the tedious, thankless tasks, all of the service, the unending service it is to be a mom.

Then I read this:


How to Really Love a Child *

Be there.

Say yes as often as possible.

Let them bang on pots and pans.

If they’re crabby, put them in water.

If they’re unlovable, love yourself.

Realize how important it is to be a child.

Go to a movie theater in your pajamas.

Read books out loud with joy.

Invent pleasures together.

Remember how really small they are.

Giggle a lot.

Surprise them.

Say no when necessary.

Teach feelings.

Heal your own inner child.

Learn about parenting.

Hug trees together.

Make loving safe.

Bake a cake and eat it with no hands.

Go find elephants and kiss them.

Plan to build a rocket ship.

Imagine yourself magic.

Make lots of forts with blankets.

Let your angel fly.

Reveal your own dreams.

Search out the positive.

Keep the gleam in your eye.

Encourage silly.

Plant licorice in your garden.

Open up.

Stop yelling.

Express your love.

A lot.

Speak kindly.

Paint their tennis shoes.

Handle with caring.

*Copyrighted to SARK