Gooey S'mores & Chili Breath

I'm lost. Somewhere between the size 4 jeans, and the stretchy pants are the only thing that fit; I lost myself. Somewhere between newly married, and the confused sleep deprivation of a mother of multiples I lost myself. Somewhere between "I can totally run that 5k!", and "you want me to do something besides nap?!" I lost myself. Somewhere between the punk/ska, and the child friendly language of a kid's sing-a-long CD I lost myself. Somewhere between the red lipstick, and barely having the energy for a shower I lost myself. Now this isn't a pity party, but it is a realization that My identity is no longer the same. Though I long to be the person who had the energy to dance in the kitchen while I was cleaning, I also realize a lot of that is choice. I CHOSE not to dance in the kitchen with the mop while listening to music with language and messages too mature for my children. I CHOSE to spend time on the floor with them reading books while the housework piles up. I'm beginning to recognize that may not always be the best choice. For now it's a delicate balancing act of my OCD for a clean home battling my desire to give my children quality time. People will tell me that cleaning my home IS showing my children love. Well, have you met my children? They cling to me the way we all wish syran-wrap would stick to the dishes we attempt to cover. Their love language is both quality time, and quality touch. I do what I can with the time I've got, but when I'm up several times a night with teething children, and not drinking caffeine during the day? come on! when they take a nap; I take a nap. I feel the desire to bust out some of the old me. The part of me that could care less. The person who wore bright red lipstick because it was Tuesday. I don't think she's dead just yet. And as my youngest gets a little older I find time to do things like put on jeans instead of stretchy pants. Somedays I even remember the deodorant. I love my children, and I spent years believing that life had passed by the point in which I would get to hold them in my arms. I also love the person I was before. The passion that was my life, the fearless resolve with which I stated my opinions and beliefs. I spend a lot more time pleasing others now. Giving snuggles, giving loves, giving spoonfuls of food, giving the blue cup because the red cup is no longer desired. I even bite my tongue to keep civil relations with people I could honestly care less if they liked me, but I need to play nice with because my Husband needs that relationship. I just think that at some point I'm going to find myself, and everyone is going to have their minds blown when I start acting like myself. I may even become much more organized. Who knows! I can barely put together complete thoughts anymore, but don't you worry! I will get back into a pair of stilettos and red lipstick, and probably some clothes too. I suppose that it's part of being a parent to lose a piece of yourself. I wonder whether I'm doing it wrong. Whether my decision to stop being so much full color version of myself, and more of a muted pastel is worth it. Whether the desire for a more child friendly/age appropriate home has been a wise choice. If I've lost enough of myself that my children will think that the woman who wore whatever she darn well felt like, and had the courage to kick someone's arse with a simple tongue lashing ever really was me. I wonder if I've given up a part of who I was that made my husband fall in love with me. I question whether I let myself go so far that I got lost along the way? Perhaps it's time to reclaim some of that person. Perhaps, much as I discovered when trying to be a bank manager, I just don't fit into these shoes. Perhaps I really just need to stand in the shower for 20 minutes, and sing my heart out, and let the kids play in the toilet water while I actually put lotion on myself. Maybe I need to spend a little more time shaving my legs, and a little less time crawling around on the floor. While I justify letting myself get lost because I'm attempting to make sure I don't raise children who are self entitled jerks. . . I may be missing the point, and my mind. Maybe it's all just a crap shoot, and it won't make a difference in the end that I bothered.

Dark Chocolate Covered Mangoes

My oldest daughter will be 2 in April. There has been a very well meaning woman who has tried to help me "ween" her from her pacifier. My frustration has come in the form of not wanting to offend this woman, but at the same time not wanting her help. Mostly because I actually don't want my daughter to stop using it. We lost our dog about 4 days before I gave birth to our youngest. We had an emergency delivery so My mother had not had a chance to come down and insert herself into the routine before the birth. My 17 month old daughter was thrust into the arms of her Uncle and taken to their house for a "slumber party" with their girls while she waited for her Grandmother to get into town. After which everyone spent the following week at Aunt Amy's and Uncle Scot's while waiting for Mom and Baby to be cleared to go home. With Dad in the hospital trying to help get the discharge to happen sooner than later. Then once home she was left alone with her Grandmother, whom she loves dearly, while Mom and baby recovered from everything for another 2 weeks. After Grandma went home the loss of the dog was suddenly very real. There was no longer a loving playmate, and friend to entertain her while Mom cleaned up the kitchen, or did the laundry. There was no longer a fuzzy warm body to snuggle up next to when a cuddle was needed, but Mom had to finish making dinner. There was no longer someone to chase in the backyard with, or simply lay in the grass and relax. Adding to this is a new person in the home who has medical issues that require a lot more attention from Mom than just feeding, and changing diapers. Suddenly this little toddler was alone. Not that no one was in the house, but in the sense that no one had undivided attention to give her. She NEEDS something to help her sort through the feelings, and calm her to a point where she can assess how she feels and how to present those feelings to her parents. My daughter is working through some complicated emotions, and some complex concepts. Death, unconditional love of parents, friendship, siblings,anger, loss, jealousy. Though people who are not dog people will never understand the significance of the loss of our Makaio; I don't ask that they do. I DO ask that you accept that for my family it was like losing a person IN the family. We function as a pack, and Makaio was a member of the pack. A significant member of the pack. I have decided that instead of having major melt-downs, security blankets, separation anxiety, or other things that my daughter will have a pacifier. It will function as its name implies. To pacify the lonely abandonment that is loss, and the addition of a sibling. I'm not asking you to understand. I'm asking you to back off, let me help my daughter deal with the loss of a pack member in our way, and trust that when I'm certain she's worked through it we'll get rid of the pacifier. Please, don't steal the one healthy coping mechanism my daughter has. What you're telling her is that her healthy ways of coping are not acceptable, and that she needs to scream and cry to get what she wants. That unhealthy ways of coping are better than healthy ones. Thank you for attempting to alleviate the pressures of being a mother of multiple children, but ; with all do respect, Back the %$#@ off. I know my pack, and I know what they need. I'm the Alpha Female in my pack, which means that I determine what is acceptable in our home. I have determined that getting the bottle to go away at bed time, and the crying out for her dog in her sleep are to be dealt with first. I will deal with THAT issue once we've kicked the unhealthy coping mechanisms, and dealt with our loss.