Lies (some) Mothers Tell Me

There are two extremely false statements I have found that people try to convince me are truth.  The first thing I am pretty positive is a complete falsehood is the following statement:  "Oh, you don't even remember the pain of childbirth."  Excuse me while I try not to choke on my coffee.  Were you in a land of rainbows and puffy clouds during those excrutiating hours or was I not given the correct drugs because I can tell you with sincere honesty I do remember and it is not fading into a distant memory. 

In fact, I remember quite distinctly that while some doctor's hands were stuffed up my crotch I had a contraction that seemed to go on forever, and a nurse said, "Oh honey, on a scale of 1 to 10 how was that?"  I think at this point I hissed at her, horns grew out of the front of my head and I said something along the lines of way more than a 10.  I hear her sing-songy response, "Oh well, yes, yes, I can see that that was, in fact, quite bad as it is way off the chart.  See here?"  She puts that piece of paper in front of my face so that I can see clearly that yes, yes, I guess I was right and the machine agreed that yes, yes, I am off the charts.  Excuse me while I don't smile and thank you for the confirmation, crazy nurse, but I am too busy trying to keep my body from turning inside out at this particular moment.  So I guess I'm one of those few people that remembers quite well their labor pains.

The second statement of which I am positive is a lie is:  "Oh, I don't even remember what my life was like before I had kids."  Excuse me again while I laugh at you and try not to pee my pants because I carried a watermelon around and I now pee every time I sneeze.  Maybe I'm just jealous of those people, but it's Saturday as I write this, and I most certainly can remember what my life was like before I had children. 

*insert daydream music*  It was a blissful Saturday morning while snow was falling quietly outside my window.  I lazily stretched in my bed and snuggled deeper under the covers hiding my head and falling back to that blissful dream state until my body said that it got all the peace and rest it needed to function for the day.  It was time to get up and leisurely stroll around the house until I had some pressing matter to attend to such as getting ready to go out to have dinner and drinks with my husband. 

Sounds totally fantastic as I type it.  I'm even staring longingly up at the ceiling as if my memory were encased in a cloud above my head.  Now there is no sleeping in and snuggling.  There is only this constant reminder that my kids decide when they think I've had enough sleep, and I can assure you that they are not on the same schedule as my body.  There is the soul-sucking 7:00 a.m. cry of mommy, mommy and the awesome job of changing a wet diaper with my eyes half closed, and if I'm lucky, I won't fall down the stairs going to get breakfast for the soul suckers. 

I also like to pretend I'm completely happy and that I am, in fact, something of a super woman, and while I make a cup of coffee, I repeat over and over to myself -- I can do this, I am awesome, I am super woman.  I quickly realize that I am not as awesome and super womanly as I believe I can be because as I start walking with my wonderfully smelling fresh coffee, I step on a train, stumble and catch myself only to find that I have spilled my entire coffee all down the front of my shirt and onto the floor.  I sigh as I wipe the coffee off the floor with my sock and collapse into my chair and close my eyes for a half a second.  How dare I do such a thing when there are cars to be played with or blocks to build a tall tower with, and how dare I forget this fact for a split second.

I see that it is, by this time, only 7:30 a.m. and half my coffee is gone and not because I had the luxury of drinking it.  It's 7:30 a.m. and already a tower as tall as my son must be built right this instant.  I'm thinking how this could be a terrific time for that shower that I must have.  It is 7:35 a.m. and said tower of blocks has not been built yet because there are trains, trains, more trains that just have to be brought into the station so the damn electronic conductor can scream at me and make my ears bleed.  I begrudgingly get up and go try to figure out a way to make that guy stop yelling when I feel my feet on the kitchen floor sticking.  It is, indeed, the coffee that was spilled that I so heroically cleaned up with my stocking feet that is screaming at me how no, no, no super woman, this half-assed cleaning shall not do.

So, you see, I quite clearly remember my life before my kids, and I will call you out on your crazy notions that this is a time of blissful motherhood.  You can't pull one over on this girl because there is no time in this house to live in such fantasy worlds.  There are trucks now for me to step on, and I pretty much think that there is a dirty diaper to be changed already.  It's only 7:45 a.m., and I feel that this is, without a doubt, going to be another long day. 

*cheers friends*

My Life as a Movie

So it's Groundhog Day in my house today again.  Same thing, same pace, same thoughts as yesterday.  I send the husband off to work and make a cup of coffee and sit in my chair, scan my phone for messages, scarymommy confessions, post one or two or five, look at the clock and sigh.

After getting the kids up and settled I proceed to go hide in the shower.  Yes, I am hiding.  I already took a shower last night so technically I don't *need* another one. 

Let's see, I'm thinking how it's Friday and how this means nothing to me.  I think how I successfully (loosely used) drank every night this week and how pathetic this is, and I need to get off the pity-party-go-round because this is doing nothing positive for the waistline I'm trying desperately to lose. 

Let's move on to how I'm dreading hitting up my spin class today, but not for the class itself; rather all it takes to just get ready for said spin class.  I have to dig out some workout gear from the loads of laundry that have miraculously piled up in one day.  How does that happen anyways I often wonder.  Then I have to actually stuff myself into said finally found clothes, the sports bra being the worst offender out of the bunch.  I'm thinking how the hell can my daughter be so damn chipper this morning because she hasn't shut her mouth once.  She was in the bathroom peeing, talking to herself.  Dear Lord, girl, it's 8:00 a.m. 

So then I'm trying to find something positive about my day.  At this point, I am totally not *green* at all as the hot water I am wasting is pretty pathetic.  Okay, something positive.  Come on, girl, you can do this.  I need something other than the traditional "I woke up today" crap.  Think, think, think.  Then this leads me to think about Winnie the Pooh.  Snap out of it, girl.  What is wrong with you?!  I'm about to give up and shut the water off when I hear feet pitter-pattering down the hall.  I'm about to say crap, what does he want now when the bathroom door gets thrown open and I hear, "I love you, mommmmyyyyy." 

You are so lucky kid.  I shall let you make it through another day.  Thank you for giving me the positive I was looking for.  Now to find my sneakers and hit up my spin class.  *cheers mommies*

Have You Seen Where I Left My Head?!

I usually come here and write when I've just about reached the end of my rope.  When I logged on I saw that I haven't been here since March of 2011.  Really?  Because I could have sworn I've been at the end of my rope a lot since that time.  Regardless, here I am, head lost, hanging on for dear life.  It has been a week where I am three bottles of red wine deep, and if I'm being honest with you, I'll tell you that they are 1.5 bottles.  Please, there is no wussy drinking for this mama.  If I'm going to drown my despair over losing control, I shall do it with gusto!!  So, continuing on...

I am like a lot of people, I love to show my kids off in videos and pictures, and I don't discriminate.  I post the good and the bad crap that they do and obnoxiously show it off on Facebook.  I'm not ashamed of it because if you are sick of seeing my kids, then you surely are missing out on some entertainment.  So, as the ever-obnoxious mom I am, I posted a video yesterday of my two-and-a-half year old son being a devil-child when he was supposed to be napping.  I mainly posted it because I was desperate for the feedback and any advice anyone could offer to me about this sudden change in his napping.  Now, I do realize that they grow out of naps, but since I work from home I was hoping to avoid this for a little bit longer.

So I did, indeed, get some advice; bendaryl (sorry, I can't waste that on nap times), books (a no go), turning the monitor off (still can hear his screaming voice through the walls), audio books (this is what I am trying currently, and I'll let you know if it was a success).  Fast forward to a couple of comments where people pointed out how cute it was when my son saw me videotaping him he smiled and was so happy to see me.  Cue that record screeching to a halt sound here.  What the hell is everyone talking about?  I go and review said tape and there it is; the adorable smile that I missed while I was so frustrated and irritated.  I realize that it is quite clear that I am, indeed, an asshat.  So now I have this awesome video displaying my asshatery and let's memorialize the moment in this blog shall we.

I was going to end this by saying something about pulling my big girl panties up and trying to regain the control I once had, but at that moment, the wood chipper guy started up his machine outside my window, i.e., the devil-child's window, and there is no napping going on.  Yes, yes, there is an audio book going on, but while I try to control the twitch in my eye I am wondering if he can even hear said audio book.  Oh yes my friends, I am indeed going to pull up my big girl panties, wash my wine glass, fill it to its brim and go to my window and wait until I catch the eye of one of the wood chipper guys and give him that good old fashion one-finger salute!!   *cheers mommies*