I am not over exaggerating when I say this has been the hardest year of my life. To be quite frank when I was a little girl dreaming about what life as a grown woman would be like I never saw myself where I am today. Where am I today? Today I feel broken and alone. I feel like I'm holding on by a thread of hope and I'm afraid that at any moment it might snap. I'm trying my hardest to get myself out of this funk. So, here I am about to count my blessings, because I know that things could be worse...way worse.
I'd like to start off my list with my children. All three of them are simply amazing: Ryan- My oldest. The baby that scared me out of my mind. I had to learn everything about raising a baby with him. He was absolutely perfect and he still is. He is healthy, hilarious, strong willed, handsome...just perfect. He's the kid that makes me burst out laughing multiple times a day. He is also the kid that sends me to my knees in prayer, so that I don't kill him...lol! He's probably the most like me personality wise, but he looks just like his daddy...so handsome! I love my little man.
Mason- My middle child. They say the middle child is forgotten, but Mase won't let me forget him. He follows me everywhere!! I think the doctors may have forgotten to clip his cord at birth...lol! That boy loves his momma! He is quieter than Ryan, but he knows how to get his point across. He loves to cuddle and if I wanted to he'd let me carry him around all day long. He's happiest when he's by my side. And, last night he said "I love you" to me for the very first time. How can it get better than that?
Eva- My third and possibly last child. My first little girl:-) I can not get over how amazing she is. She is so small and beautiful. She sleeps best if she's cuddled up to mommy or daddy. She has the prettiest little smile (I don't care if it is "just gas" at this point, it's gorgeous!)And, when she looks up at me with her sweet little face I know that there isn't a thing in this world that I wouldn't do for her.
I love my babies. When I feel like lying down and giving up I look over at my angels and realize that they are my life. They are worth whatever I have to go through. They are reason enough for me to not just exist, but to actually live my life to the fullest. To find joy in "the small things" and realize that maybe they're not so small after all. Maybe that's what life is all about.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
And, the worst mother of the year award goes to....
Every time I get frustrated or down right mad at one of my kids and lose my temper I hate myself. The sound of my raised voice or the feeling on my hand after I swat one of their butts makes me cringe. I feel like the worst mother alive, the scum of the earth. Since, this happens at least once a day I always feel bad. Today was no exception.
I woke up thinking to myself "This is gonna be a great day! I'm gonna be a great mom and make my kids a decent breakfast and take them to the library." I hopped out of bed and walked down stairs to find Mason sitting on the kitchen floor playing in a raw egg that he had somehow managed to get out of the fridge and smash on the floor. I shook my head, grabbed my boy, cleaned him off, and then cleaned the floor. Nothing was gonna ruin my mood or my day! I was determined!!....or so I thought.
Fast forward a couple of hours to the library. We had only been there for about twenty minutes when my three year old, Ryan, had a major melt down, due to the fact that he couldn't find a train he wanted. I told him, nicely, multiple times to cut the crap or we were leaving. He obviously did not take me seriously and proceeded to start jumping and screaming....in a library!! I could sense the eyes of everybody else in the library on me as I scooped up Mason and proceeded to the check out line with Ryan in tow screaming bloody murder. I could feel my blood pressure rising with each ear splitting scream. Common sense told me to leave the movies and books behind and just leave as fast as I could, but my stubborn streak propelled me forward to the check out line, screaming child and all. I am pretty sure that everyone hated me as much as I hated me. As, the librarian checked out my books Ryan started screaming that I was not his mommy. Sheer humiliation filled me and I bent down, grabbed his face and told him to be quiet or he'd be getting spanked. At this point I was sure somebody had reached into their pocket, picked up their cell phone and dialed CPS....at the very least they probably wanted to. I could feel the tears start to fill my eyes as I walked out of the library. A little old lady stopped me to tell me that every parent has gone through this and not to worry about it. Bless her dear heart. If only she knew what I wanted to do to the screaming demon that took over my little boy. I smiled at her and bent my head down, because those tears were gonna come at any moment. I got the kids in the car and sent out a text to my husband. Ryan, at this point, had not calmed down in the least. His screams had made Mason start to cry and those tears I had been trying so hard to hold back finally made it out of my eyes and down my cheeks. I was humiliated, exhausted and extremely angry with both myself and my son. I am ashamed to say that the text I sent out was to tell my husband that I hated our child. Yes, I actually said that I hated him. Luckily it was not to him, but still what was I thinking??! Who hates a three year old? Especially your own kid? I was a mess. And, the response I got did nothing to help. I took it as a "This is your own fault, because you stand in the way of me doing my job" response and, so I lashed out and sent out a nasty text to my husband. Jeez! I was on a roll. Now, I own two awards. Worst mother and worst wife. But, wait it gets worse. On my way out of the parking lot I realize that Ryan has left his sun glasses in the library and he's screaming about those now, so I pull back in and run into the library to look for them. Yep, I left my crying kids in the car. I get the glasses and as I'm leaving the librarians are all telling me how calm I am and how well I handled the situation. Apparently they think I'm some sort of angel mother. This makes me feel worse. They have no clue that I want to beat my child or that I just admitted to hating him to my husband. I get out of there as fast as I can. I feel so ashamed that I head over to McDonalds to buy Happy Meals and let the kids run around in the Play Place. Really?!! Since, when do parents reward their children for horrific behavior? Ever since I gave birth.
Ryan is now completely calm and happy as a clam. He's playing nicely with all of the other children and telling me how happy he is and saying "Look, Mom, I'm not crying anymore. I'm a good boy are you proud?" I am thinking to myself 'Well, at least, we have established that I am indeed your mother', but instead of being sarcastic to a three year old I just nod and smile. He is happy. He won't remember the day he made his mother cry. He'll grow up just fine, so why ruin it? The only person who seems to be negatively effected by all of this is me. Why do I let things get so out of control? How can I be better? As, I'm asking myself these questions I realize that it's not Ryan's fault. He's three. He is learning how to act and react. His meltdowns and temper tantrums are all a part of growing up. They are his learning experiences. It's not my job to make him act like he's thirty when he's three, it's my job to help him learn a different way to vent his frustrations. Leaving the library was a good idea. He needs to know that there will always be consequences for your actions. You scream in a library then you will have to leave the library. Period. No amount of begging or screaming will change that. In my opinion (now), McDonalds was also a good choice. Once he calmed down and realized that there was no going back to the library the lesson was learned. I don't have to keep punishing him all day for the thing he did wrong in that moment.
It's also not my husbands fault that I cried. He gave me an honest answer. That's what I'm always asking for, right? Honesty. It means more to me than sparing my feelings and stroking my "mommy ego". If you're not gonna be honest then good bye. Don't let the door hit you in the butt on your way out. I can't stand liars. This situation doesn't call for any less honesty than any other one. So, thank you, to him for opening my eyes to that.
Everyday I learn something new and today I learned to give myself a little break. If I am always hating on myself or thinking how useless I am it's no wonder a small part of my child's growing up can make me cry. If I am gonna blame myself for the bad then I also need to take credit for the good...or at least partial credit. My kids are healthy, they are happy most of the time, they always want to be near me, they are comfortable in their own skin, they know exactly what they want and aren't easily swayed, they are great little teachers (you know teaching me patience, how to laugh at poop on the floor, and how to be a mommy) and best of all they love me and I love them.
I woke up thinking to myself "This is gonna be a great day! I'm gonna be a great mom and make my kids a decent breakfast and take them to the library." I hopped out of bed and walked down stairs to find Mason sitting on the kitchen floor playing in a raw egg that he had somehow managed to get out of the fridge and smash on the floor. I shook my head, grabbed my boy, cleaned him off, and then cleaned the floor. Nothing was gonna ruin my mood or my day! I was determined!!....or so I thought.
Fast forward a couple of hours to the library. We had only been there for about twenty minutes when my three year old, Ryan, had a major melt down, due to the fact that he couldn't find a train he wanted. I told him, nicely, multiple times to cut the crap or we were leaving. He obviously did not take me seriously and proceeded to start jumping and screaming....in a library!! I could sense the eyes of everybody else in the library on me as I scooped up Mason and proceeded to the check out line with Ryan in tow screaming bloody murder. I could feel my blood pressure rising with each ear splitting scream. Common sense told me to leave the movies and books behind and just leave as fast as I could, but my stubborn streak propelled me forward to the check out line, screaming child and all. I am pretty sure that everyone hated me as much as I hated me. As, the librarian checked out my books Ryan started screaming that I was not his mommy. Sheer humiliation filled me and I bent down, grabbed his face and told him to be quiet or he'd be getting spanked. At this point I was sure somebody had reached into their pocket, picked up their cell phone and dialed CPS....at the very least they probably wanted to. I could feel the tears start to fill my eyes as I walked out of the library. A little old lady stopped me to tell me that every parent has gone through this and not to worry about it. Bless her dear heart. If only she knew what I wanted to do to the screaming demon that took over my little boy. I smiled at her and bent my head down, because those tears were gonna come at any moment. I got the kids in the car and sent out a text to my husband. Ryan, at this point, had not calmed down in the least. His screams had made Mason start to cry and those tears I had been trying so hard to hold back finally made it out of my eyes and down my cheeks. I was humiliated, exhausted and extremely angry with both myself and my son. I am ashamed to say that the text I sent out was to tell my husband that I hated our child. Yes, I actually said that I hated him. Luckily it was not to him, but still what was I thinking??! Who hates a three year old? Especially your own kid? I was a mess. And, the response I got did nothing to help. I took it as a "This is your own fault, because you stand in the way of me doing my job" response and, so I lashed out and sent out a nasty text to my husband. Jeez! I was on a roll. Now, I own two awards. Worst mother and worst wife. But, wait it gets worse. On my way out of the parking lot I realize that Ryan has left his sun glasses in the library and he's screaming about those now, so I pull back in and run into the library to look for them. Yep, I left my crying kids in the car. I get the glasses and as I'm leaving the librarians are all telling me how calm I am and how well I handled the situation. Apparently they think I'm some sort of angel mother. This makes me feel worse. They have no clue that I want to beat my child or that I just admitted to hating him to my husband. I get out of there as fast as I can. I feel so ashamed that I head over to McDonalds to buy Happy Meals and let the kids run around in the Play Place. Really?!! Since, when do parents reward their children for horrific behavior? Ever since I gave birth.
Ryan is now completely calm and happy as a clam. He's playing nicely with all of the other children and telling me how happy he is and saying "Look, Mom, I'm not crying anymore. I'm a good boy are you proud?" I am thinking to myself 'Well, at least, we have established that I am indeed your mother', but instead of being sarcastic to a three year old I just nod and smile. He is happy. He won't remember the day he made his mother cry. He'll grow up just fine, so why ruin it? The only person who seems to be negatively effected by all of this is me. Why do I let things get so out of control? How can I be better? As, I'm asking myself these questions I realize that it's not Ryan's fault. He's three. He is learning how to act and react. His meltdowns and temper tantrums are all a part of growing up. They are his learning experiences. It's not my job to make him act like he's thirty when he's three, it's my job to help him learn a different way to vent his frustrations. Leaving the library was a good idea. He needs to know that there will always be consequences for your actions. You scream in a library then you will have to leave the library. Period. No amount of begging or screaming will change that. In my opinion (now), McDonalds was also a good choice. Once he calmed down and realized that there was no going back to the library the lesson was learned. I don't have to keep punishing him all day for the thing he did wrong in that moment.
It's also not my husbands fault that I cried. He gave me an honest answer. That's what I'm always asking for, right? Honesty. It means more to me than sparing my feelings and stroking my "mommy ego". If you're not gonna be honest then good bye. Don't let the door hit you in the butt on your way out. I can't stand liars. This situation doesn't call for any less honesty than any other one. So, thank you, to him for opening my eyes to that.
Everyday I learn something new and today I learned to give myself a little break. If I am always hating on myself or thinking how useless I am it's no wonder a small part of my child's growing up can make me cry. If I am gonna blame myself for the bad then I also need to take credit for the good...or at least partial credit. My kids are healthy, they are happy most of the time, they always want to be near me, they are comfortable in their own skin, they know exactly what they want and aren't easily swayed, they are great little teachers (you know teaching me patience, how to laugh at poop on the floor, and how to be a mommy) and best of all they love me and I love them.
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