SERIOUSLY!!!!!???? I have these monster boobs because they went from a size DDD, which was bad enough to a freakin' G after the baby was born TWO YEARS AGO and they haven't gone down. This pretty much kills my pipe dream of them ever going back to a suitable size. So when I run I have to wear two sports bras. Yes, yes, I do, and I've resigned myself to this fact. I mean yes, it's pretty painful that my entire neck is being tugged down by these two melons on my chest stuffed into two bras (which is not a pretty sight trying to get them off all sweaty...ack), but I've accepted this as my life. It could be worse as all my non-boobage friends might tell me.
ANYWAYS, so I put my heart rate monitor on this morning, which is the one that has a chest strap, and I'm all "strapped in" (pun intended apparently), and I'm runnin' and I'm runnin' all Forrest Gump like feeling pretty pleased with my awesome self. Fast forward to when I come home and jump in the shower only to find to my dismay --- STINGING UNDERBOOBS!!! They were rubbing up against the HRM and caused wicked rubage and now I'm all red and sooorrrreee. So, no, this is not my idea of a good time whatsoever.
How DARE i try to lose weight...*kicks rocks* I see now that this is my punishment for my "selfishness" of wanting some "me" time without the kids and wanting to be smokin' hot -- or let's just be honest; just pleasant to the eyes of those around me that I must offend with myself.
So, clearly this is Mother Nature's way of saying -- here, honey, have another cookie. You're meant to be fluffy.*head desk*
*cheers my friends*
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
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*
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*
Friday, January 27, 2012
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*
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*
Thursday, January 26, 2012
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*
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*
Friday, March 11, 2011
Dear Bad Mood...
(So I wrote this for a place that is holding me accountable for my eating and exercising. I'm having a crappy day so I thought I would post this here for anyone's viewing pleasure and also to remind me why I should shake this bad mood off before it consumes me...too late. *insert picture of a well with hands trying to climb out* that's me)
So I stand before you an emotional mess most times. Some times I have the energy to hide it. Sometimes I have the energy to change it. Sometimes I don't have the care to do either, and I let you see my mess. It's okay for those who truly know me, want to know me or are just as much of a mess as I am and don't care.
However, I do not like being a negative nut on MFP. That's not why I joined this place. I joined it because it's free to be honest. I didn't realize how many awesome (and not so awesome) people this place held. I've clicked with some, loved a few, rolled my eyes at many a-post, virtual-hugged fiercely those I felt needed it.
I let my negativity come out this morning, and I got mad at myself for I don't want people to see that part of me because I am so much more than that. So with my negativity open to the public of my friends I went to the gym. I dropped my little boy off and worked out, which to be quite honest didnt help a whole lot because, to me, working out is like cleaning the house; all I do is think about what I wish I had the balls to say out loud. That doesn't change my mood.
I went and picked up my little boy from the gym daycare to see some little girl ripping a piece of paper out of his hand and pushing him. I grabbed the piece of paper out of the little girl's hand and scolded her. OOFF this was so not the right thing to do in my mind, but I couldn't stop myself. Layla, my favorite staff person, asked me what happened. I told her and I walked away.
While sitting on the floor putting my son's shoes on she asked me if I was okay in such a caring tone that I started crying. She asked me what happened, and I told her I didnt know. I had no idea and that I was sorry for being a mess and how stupid I felt. She looked at me and said, "April, life is hard and it's okay. Come here. I want to show you something." She handed me the newspaper which had the title, 'Man Found After Two Years for Killing Friend." I asked her what was this and she informed me that this is the man that killed her husband, her children's father, two years ago.
I stared at her and started crying. I told her how sorry I was and that I can't imagine how terrible of a loss this was for her and her three children as I've come to know this girl as an amazing mom and caregiver over the past few months. I hugged her and told her how selfish I was for feeling so emotional today over something I had no idea what it was. She promptly scolded me and told me not to think that way. It's okay to have "those days" and that we aren't alone.
I cried all the way home. I will hug her when I see her tomorrow and hope that at lease an ounce of her strength finds its way to me. If it doesn't, that only means she needs it all, and I won't steal it from her. I will, however, try hard to stand tall like her for she has many reasons to fall. I'll thank her for her kindness, not only to my son, but to me as well, and I will treasure it always.
So I stand before you an emotional mess most times. Some times I have the energy to hide it. Sometimes I have the energy to change it. Sometimes I don't have the care to do either, and I let you see my mess. It's okay for those who truly know me, want to know me or are just as much of a mess as I am and don't care.
However, I do not like being a negative nut on MFP. That's not why I joined this place. I joined it because it's free to be honest. I didn't realize how many awesome (and not so awesome) people this place held. I've clicked with some, loved a few, rolled my eyes at many a-post, virtual-hugged fiercely those I felt needed it.
I let my negativity come out this morning, and I got mad at myself for I don't want people to see that part of me because I am so much more than that. So with my negativity open to the public of my friends I went to the gym. I dropped my little boy off and worked out, which to be quite honest didnt help a whole lot because, to me, working out is like cleaning the house; all I do is think about what I wish I had the balls to say out loud. That doesn't change my mood.
I went and picked up my little boy from the gym daycare to see some little girl ripping a piece of paper out of his hand and pushing him. I grabbed the piece of paper out of the little girl's hand and scolded her. OOFF this was so not the right thing to do in my mind, but I couldn't stop myself. Layla, my favorite staff person, asked me what happened. I told her and I walked away.
While sitting on the floor putting my son's shoes on she asked me if I was okay in such a caring tone that I started crying. She asked me what happened, and I told her I didnt know. I had no idea and that I was sorry for being a mess and how stupid I felt. She looked at me and said, "April, life is hard and it's okay. Come here. I want to show you something." She handed me the newspaper which had the title, 'Man Found After Two Years for Killing Friend." I asked her what was this and she informed me that this is the man that killed her husband, her children's father, two years ago.
I stared at her and started crying. I told her how sorry I was and that I can't imagine how terrible of a loss this was for her and her three children as I've come to know this girl as an amazing mom and caregiver over the past few months. I hugged her and told her how selfish I was for feeling so emotional today over something I had no idea what it was. She promptly scolded me and told me not to think that way. It's okay to have "those days" and that we aren't alone.
I cried all the way home. I will hug her when I see her tomorrow and hope that at lease an ounce of her strength finds its way to me. If it doesn't, that only means she needs it all, and I won't steal it from her. I will, however, try hard to stand tall like her for she has many reasons to fall. I'll thank her for her kindness, not only to my son, but to me as well, and I will treasure it always.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Mommy Guilt - The Hidden Danger of Mommyhood
I read a mom's confession the other day where she said, "I shrugged my daughter off of me today. I can't stand being touched today." I read it and thought that I could have written that very easily. Four days go by and I'm still thinking about that mom and what she said. I have done the same exact thing, and I felt bad then and I still do now. My mind then starts to immediately remind me about each bad mommy moment I've had over the past 9 1/2 years. I can remember them like it just happened last week, which I'm pretty sure some of them did. Why can't a mommy mind have a filter? The kind of filter that allows us to remember only the wonderful things we do as I'm positive we all do wonderful things on a weekly basis.
I love my kids more than I ever could I have imagined, but in all those books I read while pregnant there was never a section entitled, "Mommy Guilt - It Comes with the Territory." Perhaps you can't teach mommies-to-be this trait that comes automatically, but "they" could have least prepared me for such guilt. Other people tell me not to waste my time feeling guilty as I do the best I can. Some days I feel like I haven't given my best, nor do I feel that I even tried, which inevitibly leads to the dreaded mommy guilt.
So I go over and over again all the bad mommy moments I've had and they add up. In fact, I don't have enough fingers and toes to keep track of the bad mommy moments. I certainly don't dare write them down where anyone could find them and judge me. I then start to think about stories I've read or stories I've been told about other moms who have had bad moments. I'm sorry to admit that it makes me feel better when I can say to myself, "Ooh, at least I've never done THAT." That's mean I know, but I think that's human nature. It also makes me feel better when I can say, "Oh, phew, someone else had done X, Y, Z too!!" Somehow I'm validated in my bad moments.
No matter how much validation I get though I can't ever truly let go of the mommy guilt. It's there to stay because as my own mother has told me on many occasions, "Get used to it, April, it's a life sentence." Oh, it sure is, but I just try to think that for every five minutes worth of bad mommy moments, there's ten minutes of awesome, silly, loved moments which definitely outweigh the negatives on this whole mommy job. I can learn to live with that.
I love my kids more than I ever could I have imagined, but in all those books I read while pregnant there was never a section entitled, "Mommy Guilt - It Comes with the Territory." Perhaps you can't teach mommies-to-be this trait that comes automatically, but "they" could have least prepared me for such guilt. Other people tell me not to waste my time feeling guilty as I do the best I can. Some days I feel like I haven't given my best, nor do I feel that I even tried, which inevitibly leads to the dreaded mommy guilt.
So I go over and over again all the bad mommy moments I've had and they add up. In fact, I don't have enough fingers and toes to keep track of the bad mommy moments. I certainly don't dare write them down where anyone could find them and judge me. I then start to think about stories I've read or stories I've been told about other moms who have had bad moments. I'm sorry to admit that it makes me feel better when I can say to myself, "Ooh, at least I've never done THAT." That's mean I know, but I think that's human nature. It also makes me feel better when I can say, "Oh, phew, someone else had done X, Y, Z too!!" Somehow I'm validated in my bad moments.
No matter how much validation I get though I can't ever truly let go of the mommy guilt. It's there to stay because as my own mother has told me on many occasions, "Get used to it, April, it's a life sentence." Oh, it sure is, but I just try to think that for every five minutes worth of bad mommy moments, there's ten minutes of awesome, silly, loved moments which definitely outweigh the negatives on this whole mommy job. I can learn to live with that.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Middle of the Night Randoms
I wake up with a start, eyes open, holding my breath listening for what it was that woke me up, even though I already know. It's that tell-tale cough accompanied by a wailing hurt cry. I sigh, drag myself out of bed, eyes half open and go into my son's room. He's sitting there crying so badly my mommy mode kicks in. I pick him up, grab a blanket and sit in the rocking chair. As he collapses on my chest I curse myself for picking a rocking chair that doesn't recline. What the hell was I thinking? Did I really think that 4:30 in the morning this chair would be comfortable?
As I rock my sick baby I realize that I really don't care for this job. This whole mommy thing isn't all it's cracked up to be. My toes are freezing, my head is pounding, this chair is uncomfortable, and I think about all those things that mommies say, "Oh, it's all worth it." "Oh, this job is so fullfilling." "Oh, shut the hell up," I think. This sucks and you can't tell me any different.
Suddenly my son has such a severe coughing fit, sits up on my lap, looks at me, starts crying and drops his head onto my chest. Now I feel bad because all I want to do is fix him. It's 4:30 in the morning, and there is nothing that I can do but love him up and snuggle him hoping he falls asleep on me. So that's what he finally does. He falls asleep on me, and as I kiss his warm forehead I don't notice my cold toes, my throbbing head, my uncomfortable chair. All I notice is my son's heavy breathing, his soft hair, his warm feet and the best baby smell ever. In this moment I no longer dislike this job. This is the moment where I vow to do this job as close to perfect as I can. Someone very important is counting on me, and I will not let anyone, not even my bitchy self, get in the way of this thankless but perfect-for-me job.
As I rock my sick baby I realize that I really don't care for this job. This whole mommy thing isn't all it's cracked up to be. My toes are freezing, my head is pounding, this chair is uncomfortable, and I think about all those things that mommies say, "Oh, it's all worth it." "Oh, this job is so fullfilling." "Oh, shut the hell up," I think. This sucks and you can't tell me any different.
Suddenly my son has such a severe coughing fit, sits up on my lap, looks at me, starts crying and drops his head onto my chest. Now I feel bad because all I want to do is fix him. It's 4:30 in the morning, and there is nothing that I can do but love him up and snuggle him hoping he falls asleep on me. So that's what he finally does. He falls asleep on me, and as I kiss his warm forehead I don't notice my cold toes, my throbbing head, my uncomfortable chair. All I notice is my son's heavy breathing, his soft hair, his warm feet and the best baby smell ever. In this moment I no longer dislike this job. This is the moment where I vow to do this job as close to perfect as I can. Someone very important is counting on me, and I will not let anyone, not even my bitchy self, get in the way of this thankless but perfect-for-me job.
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