Stop Saying That. Just Stop.

You know what one of the most condescending, irritatingly insulting things I've had someone say to me is? "You're going to miss this stage. Just wait."... NO! I will not miss it one blasted bit! I love my children dearly, but YOU don't live in my house everyday. You want to know how many times my 4yr old told me she hated me today? I don't know either. I lost count after 25. EVERY DAY! I go through this EVERY day. I have to fight with my children about putting clothes on. I fight with them about eating something besides candy. I fight with them about the fact that I didn't buy the fancy over priced fruity whatever-it-is because I think we should save some money for their clothes! I'm a monster who ruins everyday because I refuse to cave to the rest of the world and raise jerks. I have been told countless times that I ruined all the fun. I'm mean, not fun, and they hate me. Believe me, they let me know every chance they get. Do you know what that does to your self-esteem? I know, I know... "You shouldn't let a 4yr old dictate your self worth."... I don't care WHO you are. If ANYone tells you that they hate you multiple times a day EVERY day. You're going to feel the ding to your self esteem. only a heartless bastard would not feel a ding to their self worth after listening to that for 2-3 years. So don't tell me I will miss this. Don't tell me I'm going to wake-up, they'll be grown and I'll look back and be all "aww I miss when they were little.". I will absolutely NOT miss this. I won't miss dealing with a fight on every issue. I won't miss the crying, or the complaining, or the lack of ANYthing I do being good enough. That's what it's like when you're a parent to small humans who can't logic. NOTHING you do is good enough. Ever. They look at you like "and? why should I be grateful for this?". Don't tell me I will miss this. YOU miss this. I do not. Stop trying to be supportive by telling me how much YOU miss this. Some of us didn't have children who constantly told us they loved us. Some of us didn't have children who wanted to learn to dress themselves, or be obedient for more than 30 seconds. Some of us have children who are so difficult their teachers feel sorry for us; because they know we're trying, but the child is just that difficult. Some of us didn't raise our children when you could give them a swat on the bum for misbehaving, or wash their mouth out with soap for talking back. Some of us are trying to raise functional children who won't grow up to be entitled jerks; while simultaneously attempting to not go to jail for child abuse because EVERYone knows that kids should never be physically punished. Stop telling a mom in the middle of a crisis that she'll miss the crisis situation. No one misses this. What you think we'll miss is that same stupid naive expectation we imagined before we delivered our first child. That's not reality. So stop telling me I'm going to miss that fantasy you've created in your memories. I'm far to practical for that. I don't have time for that. I have to go tell two little girls to go to bed. Again. Then I have to listen to them yell at me and tell me how much they hate me. Again. Because this is the routine. Until everyone is asleep. Then I'll get about 30-45 minutes of sleep before the baby wakes up and needs me. Again. So take your "you're going to miss this." and burry it with all the other dead hopes and dreams you left behind.

A Controversy Waiting for the Storm of Comments.

SO! while listening to frozen for the millionth time I was struck by the message about mental illness that appears moderately hidden. In the scene where Anna finally finds Elsa in the ice castle and they do the singing back and forth... think about whats happening; Elsa is having an anxiety attack/mental break down/depressive episode/whatever your mental illness is issue. She's been conditioned to be ashamed of her mental illness. So she's doing a lot of self-talk, and not at all listening to Anna. although she is very much aware of Anna's presence she is completely ignoring what Anna is saying/communicating. No really. Watch it. It's like Anna isn't even singing. Then there's Anna. confronting a mental illness she didn't know her sister had until recently. She has never faced a mental illness before. She has literally NO idea what she's doing, but she's attempting to tell Elsa that she is loved, and wanted, and most importantly not alone. She is literally walking towards Elsa with out stretched arms in an attempt to help. She WANTS to help. Her efforts are unrecognized, but she persists. the entire time using calming, loving language both physically and verbally. She gets struck by ice, the movie moves on. The thing that struck me was how often I have listened/watched this scene and thought "dude, if Elsa would just shut up she'd figure it out!".... but that's just it. In the throws of your mental illness you CAN'T just shut-up the self-talk and listen. Your brain is hardwired to NOT listen. There could be a bullhorn pressed against your ear at full volume, and you wouldn't be able to hear a thing being said. And that is in no way your fault. Let me repeat that; Not being able to hear those who love you tell you that very thing is NOT your fault. You're too tired to hear us, and we know that. We just want you to know that we're tired too. We're not giving up, we're just sitting with you... tired. It's exhausting for BOTH parties. It's exhausting to try and function with a mental illness. It's exhausting to NOT function with a mental illness. To be left physically unable to carry on the basic life sustaining functions. It is also exhausting to constantly be reaching out with love to someone who can't hear you. Some of us trying to help those who have mental illnesses are just as tired as you are. and we are not unaware. We're just not being listened to. No one is wrong, or at fault. It is the unfortunate nature of the beast that is mental illness. We recognize that fact and we still reach out. We're trying to help you. We want you to "come down the mountain TOGETHER..". We want you to take part in the world and society with us. It's why it's so important for more than one person to reach out if possible. Because eventually someone CAN drown out the self-talk. Olaf eventually was able to reach Elsa. It didn't change Anna's love for her sister, or how much she supported her, but it did make a difference in that it helped Elsa to stop and listen to Anna. We all just have to find that person who can drown out our self-talk so we can hear all the people trying to love us. I've seen a lot of those "what people with anxiety want you to know", or "what people with depression want you to know" posts on social media. Well let me give you another one. What people who DON'T have a mental illness want you to know: -We're aware you're suffering. You're not "yourself", and we know it. -When we say "it's ok", we don't mean that you're ok and you should stop having your illness. We're saying "it's ok to not be ok. I'm here for you no matter what."(yes, we suck with our words in the moment.) -We're kinda tired of the world assuming we're unaware that mental illness is a big deal, and a real issue. We know it is. We just don't have it, and have never had it, and will probably never experience it so we can't read your mind. Or body language. Or social disassociation. It's not within our power to logic that. If you don't tell us you have anxiety we have very little clue that standing at your front door with a surprise would cause you to have an anxiety attack. We thought it would be a fun surprise. -We love you. We want to love you. We want you to listen to us love you, instead of your negative self-talk. -we're not perfect either. We're going to make mistakes in dealing with you, and mental illness. (see above comment about not having it.). We're willing to keep trying, but you have to let us. You have to "shut-up and listen Elsa!", or none of our efforts will mean a thing. -We're tired too. And that's ok. Now don't think I'm all up on my high horse because I'm perfect. Far from it. I've got my own mental illness I'm dealing with, AND postpartum depression. These are thoughts that I have had while not in the throws of my illness. When I'm not being controlled by it, I have seen THIS. That those around me are trying SO hard to help me. I've just learned to tune them out, and tune the set-talk in. And of course none of these "what people with (fill in the blank) want you to know" posts cover the unique needs and reactions, etc of everyone. For all I know there are people out there who could care less about mental illness. Typically though, if you're living with mental illness ( I refuse to say suffering. It feeds the negative self-talk. I won't feed that monster.) those around you are trying to reach out and love you. They just need a little more direct coaching on how to help YOU. They need the directions on what helps you. Because lets be honest; mental illness is not a "one size fits all" thing. We all live with it differently, have different triggers, respond to different things. Be kind to those trying to reach you. Look for them. They're there. And they are tired too. Sit down, lean on each other, and rest together for a while. Then you'll both have the energy to stand and fight the beast together.

I AM the Storm

I have seen a lot of those MEMEs about the Devil whispering that you can't withstand the storm, and the person answers "I am the storm". I'm getting really tired of all that. What if I don't want to be "the storm'? What if I don't think the world NEEDS anymore "storms"? What if I'm the Calm inside the Storm? The world around us is exploding with aggression, and fight responses. When confronted with challenges people fight. When confronted with heartache people fight. Maybe I want to be calm. I want to take a deep breath, drop my shoulders, bow my head, and let it go. I want to resonate with such calmness that I break-up the fighting. I want to be so deeply embedded in the calm that it draws people into it. I want to watch the world settle from the Storm and join in the Calmness. I believe that it is perfectly acceptable to not be the Storm; whipping around wildly, and slashing at everything insight. It is acceptable to not fight back. It is acceptable to resign yourself to a season of less than "what you deserve" in life. It is ok to not be ok. In our whirlwind of a busy world, and all the blogs, advice books, motivational speakers, and the like telling us it's ok to not be busy; we seem to not actually understand how that works. We still feel this draw to the Storm. Well, I've resigned from the Storm. I may not practice "peaceful parenting" ( yes, I yell at my kids when I've repeated myself 12 times), but I see no need to be busy. We have more days of lazy play at home than we have of playdates, and classes, and errands, and extra. We spend more time at home playing together. We know every nook of our house. Yet I find that most people are borderline appalled when they learn that I don't do all the stuff the world expects me to. Part of me worries and stresses out about it. Sometimes I wonder if my children will be upset that we didn't take professional photo's for their first birthday. I ponder their disappointment when they get married and their spouse has a million professional baby photo's from when they were first born, and all I've got for them are pictures I took with my iPhone in the hospital of them screaming at the fact that the nurse just took them from my womb and laid them on my chest. How dare She! I don't have milestone photo shoots with fancy chalkboards, or celebratory cakes, or even stickers I printed off Pinterest. I reflect on the lack of big fancy over-the-top parties for EVERY birthday. You get a bid deal on your 1st, maybe your 8th, but I am NOT that Mom. I've contemplated how much they'll feel like I stole something from them because I didn't do very many of the "trendy" things moms do. So this is Me, signing off. I REFUSE to be the Storm. I will not partake in the crazy. I will deny myself, and by association my Family, the chaos of the Storm of trendy new things that make us "busy". This is Me, take a step back. This is Me, breathing deeply. This is me, bowing my head and closing my eyes. This is Me, letting it all go. This is Me, being the Calm in the midst of the Storm. This is Me, inviting others to join me. This is Me, giving space for those who need to escape the Storm. This is Me, stepping into my comfort zone and learning to invite others inside. This is Me, taking back control over the peace I feel. This is Me, looking the Devil straight in the face and instead of telling him I can match him at his own game, saying; That's ok. I am the Calm that brings others out of the Storm. I am the friendly face, the kind gesture, the smile, the breath of fresh air, the support. I don't need to withstand the Storm, for I do not reside in it.

Drive-ins, Swimming, and All Things Summer

I'm not an easy person to like. I say that a lot. Most people see that as fishing for a compliment. I say it with the self realized evidence of the past several years. The one thing my Husband has admitted about first meeting me? He didn't really like me. He thought I was a "know-it-all". Most of the friends I have that stuck through the awkward stage? They'll say it took some time to "warm up" to the idea of being my friend. Most people will confess to me that they weren't certain about whether or not they could deal with me when we first met. . . Let that sink in for just a moment. Imagine being told for the better part of your late 20's early 30's that you are not the ideal, personable human being people befriend. Imagine being told regularly that you're "difficult" to enjoy. Now think about how that sits on the psyche. There's a good reason I don't reach out to people. There's a reason I don't go out of my way to go places, or throw parties, or even attend parties. Several reasons actually. The big ones come from what happened to me in my early 20's. The "little" ones come from the fact that I can't even get my own family to enjoy me, let alone strangers; so I just stay home. My children are difficult to like as well. Mostly because we spend so little time with people outside our own home. It's difficult to have play dates when no one wants to sit and talk to you as the adult. I stopped pretending I understand people in the middle of what was going on with me before. I stopped paying attention to whether people mattered when the Major was selling me as a commodity. It makes me difficult to like. I don't understand the purpose of small talk. I don't really care about gossip. I'm not all that interested in fashion, and the latest craze ( which should be evident by my inability to dress myself.), I don't know how to not be awkward. Awkward is kind of my default setting. I am out of place in the world. I don't fit in. I do better when I keep my mouth shut, but I end up dying a little inside because no one really knows who I am. I get an uncouth exuberance when a subject I know about is brought up. I feel personally insulted when people won't let me help them; because it happens so rarely that I can be useful. I feel a great deal of pain at the fact that my children are the wierdos because I can't make enough friends with children their age for them to have playmates. My heart breaks when they desperately want to play with someone, and I have made that impossible. There is a silent amount of guilt killing me because I am difficult to like. Yet if I pretend, and become likable, I also die a little inside. So, Parenting catch 22. Do you die inside because your children are lonely and unlike, or do you die inside because you're faking it? Maybe someday I will know the answer, and my children will forgive me for failing them in this area. Maybe.

Salted Caramels, and Three Hours of Sleep

You know what one of the most patronizing things I've ever heard is? At this phase of my life it is the sentiment "you'll get through this. It's only temporary.". This sentiment, and ones along these lines, make me want to look that person straight in the face and say No $#&% Sherlock? because the thousands of millions of people throughout history aren't proof that it is possible to survive being the parent of small children. So this is me. Explaining to all of you out there trying to keep people like me motivated. Those are not things we need to hear right now. We're smart enough to know that we will survive this. Maybe we don't want to survive. Maybe we want to sleep. Maybe we want to not have a brain fog that makes us practically useless. Maybe, just maybe, we want to splurge on something and not have to sacrifice it to small children, or accept that a splurge denies them something they'll probably need. I mean I would like to have a little extra money to go to Jamba Juice often enough to actually know what flavor is my favorite. Heck! I'd like to know whats on the bloody menu! Maybe we'd like to be in a position where we can get our nails done, or have a hobby. You know like those things people do to help them feel fulfilled? yeah, those things. only they usually require money and time we don't have. Because Kids. Little kids. So take your "you'll miss this", and your "it'll go so fast" and shove it where the sun don't shine! A better way to encourage and motivate people like me would be a "Yup! this part is lame." Even a "come get a pedicure with me! my treat.". Or just talk to us about something besides Mickey Mouse, Doc McStuffins, Princesses, you know the stuff we spend all day talking about. Discuss politics with us. Discuss anything that isn't my children! Gift cards are awesome too! I can't even begin to explain the amount of time that goes by between the times I get to listen to my music, and when I'm listening to London Bridge. I'm not even sure I can remember what my favorite song is anymore. I used to be able to name any 80's hair band just by listening to a few bars of their music. Now I'm like "wait, this is who?! ". The lack of time to ones self is nauseating. I know there are Moms out there writing blogs about how wonderful this all is, and how we're doing great, and how it's all so beautiful. Good for them. Good for all the people who read those posts and think " oh I needed this!".. You know what I need?! A stiff drink, and a ridiculously large plate of bacon. The stiff drink isn't going to happen in this life time, but the bacon is still a possibility. I am not opposed to motivation. Just remember that if you patronize me I will eventually respond with sarcasm. It will be brutal. It won't feel good. At this point my wit and brutal sarcasm are the only hobbies I can afford/have time for. So if you feel like tempting fate and trying out your motivation don't be hurt if my response isn't welcoming and full of gratitude. It's not that you don't mean well; it's just that some of us are NOT enjoying this phase of life, and we never will. You trying to make us enjoy it, or see the joy in it isn't going to change a thing. We recognize that someone out there is enjoying every moment of this. We are NOT that person. It's a lot like preference for sweet, or savory. You can't change a persons preference. No matter how many motivational quotes, and blog posts, and articles you give them in favor of your preference. So just stop. Just stop trying to change us. Accept us, and our "taste" about this phase of life. And for the love of all that is holy; Stop telling us we'll love this, or miss this.

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.