Living in the Mother-hood

I didn’t want kids. I didn’t want to get married either. Kids gave me this chest tightening anxiety and it seemed as though everyone in my family had gotten a divorce- many after 30 years of marriage. I didn’t want any part of it. I assumed that I would have enough ammo to thoroughly fuck up my own children, let alone navigate the shark infested waters of holy matrimony.

I was 20 years old, what did I know? I was a radio, tv, film major and wanted to travel the globe making women’s studies documentaries. I thought I could learn the craft and help the plight of women around the world…I was optimistic and yet lacked any drive to actually pursue my dream. So, what did I do? I waited tables, went to parties, cultivated a great group of friends and became settled into an ordinary life in a college town. I have never been on a humanitarian mission or stood behind the camera.

 

I met my now-husband when I was 19 years old. He was cocky and self-assured and I hated him, we did not get along. At all. I was bitchy, he was cocky. We were both far too stubborn for our own good, so we started dating, obviously. Four years later we got married. He wanted kids and I wasn’t necessarily opposed to children at this point. For some weird reason that I still don’t fully understand, I knew, like I have never known anything so certain in my life, that he would be the father of my children. I couldn’t picture having kids with anyone else. No one. I could picture dating or marrying someone different- but not to be the father of my children. I call this the Neanderthal theory- we are still primitive beings. We seek the best partner for procreation. He was so good looking. He had that self-assured strut to his walk and had this wink that would make your knees weak. He had thick dark hair that always looked effortless and perfectly bed-head messy, and still does all these many years later. He took pride in his appearance and his wardrobe. The first time we really hung out alone was a J Crew sale at the local hotel. (We both still have the coats we bought from that event) He was attractive, funny, smart and driven to succeed.

You hunt. I gather. You provide. I take care of children.

I suppose it could be that simple.

After graduating college with a degree in Sociology, I dipped a tiny little pinky toe into the “real world” and decided that I could make more money and have a more flexible schedule if I continued to bartend. Honestly, I could make $10k more slinging some drinks than I could advocating for children lost in the system. Two years later, we got married and two years after that we had our first child. I took six months off from work and went back part-time, 3 nights a week. I would head off to work in the evenings and Jeff would stay home with the baby, no paid child care necessary. It was a win-win! I made some extra income, we didn’t have to pay for child care and all was good. I didn’t have a career, per se, but that was ok. I couldn’t think of any career that would make me drop off my precious baby to daycare. NOTHING.

Two years after that we had our son and I took another 9 months off. I headed back to work and Jeff had the babies in the evening. I still had no career, but the tradeoff was well worth the lack of 401k. I couldn’t, and still can’t, imagine dropping my babes off every morning. No. No. No.

We became involved in our fabulous cooperative preschool. I became school treasurer and then spent a year and a half as President. We created fundraisers and held garage sales, we had weekly play dates and mom nights out. We would go for ice cream on the square and a picnic lunch on the courthouse lawn. I wouldn’t give those moments up for anything. My eyes get watery just thinking about it. It just never made sense to go find a “real job”.  The money was too good, the schedule was flexible and I loved the company and my co-workers. It became hard to justify going to work full time and neither Jeff nor I found it necessary. He never called it “his money”, I never felt guilty for staying home with the kids. He didn’t demand dinner every night or question the daily household chores. We had a good respect and rhythm in the house.

Of course there have been times I blew up and completely lose my shit. I would cry out of frustration that he just doesn't understand how difficult being a SAHM is and he reminds me that he works his ass off all day to support his family. This is still a regular discussion. I won’t say there is resentment, but definite tension. He has often told me that I am more than welcome to pursue a career and he will stay at home- if I could make as much money as him. Right. We all know that will not happen. So, Monday comes back around and Jeff goes to work and I start a load of laundry. Truthfully, he would go crazy staying at home and I don’t want to be in the  grind of the workplace.

I need my babies with me, but I also need a good babysitter.

I need date nights and adult conversation. I need strong margaritas and a good reason to get out of yoga pants. I need to exercise my brain in interesting and challenging ways that have nothing to do with child rearing. I need reminders that I am more than “just a mom”. Yes, there are days that I want to start taking shots of whiskey before 9am. There are days I wonder what by life would be like without the constant pressure of children, days  I wonder what I could have done should I have married someone that didn’t want children. There are days when a simple trip to Target ends up in flailing fits and screaming matches. There are days I want to cry alone in my closet and hope that no one comes to find me, but even in the depths of despair and frustration, I cannot hand my children over to someone else’s care every day.

Someday the kids will grow up and spread their wings, god willing, and I don’t want to look back and wish we had spent more precious moments together. They only get one childhood and I want it to be full of adventure and fun. I want to take too many pictures and hover too closely. I want to be there and present all the time. I don't want to relegate my million daily kisses to before 8am and after 5pm. I brought these sweet beings into this world and I want to explore it with them. I want to have lazy mornings cuddling on the couch and fun afternoons at the museum. I don’t want to wait for the weekends. I am selfish like that. I don’t want to prioritize anything above my duties to my family and I don’t think I could balance work/home. It’s just that simple. I want to be home with the kids and it works for our family.

 

xoxo

 

Christmas in September

I don’t like the holidays, let me just get that out there. Last year I wrote THIS blog entitled Bah Humbug outlining the top 5 reasons that I hate the holidays. I still feel this way and I am super pissed off that I just saw a commercial that referenced the “holiday season” in SEPTEMBER! No, no, no. It is not the holiday season. The “holiday season” doesn’t begin until November. Let us freaking get through the hectic "back 2 school "transition and buy our costumes and candy for Halloween before we dive head first into ugly jingle sweaters and pine scented plastic trees.

Ella is four and a half this Christmas season, which means that she is in full present/Santa/Elf/decorate a tree/snowball fight mode. Simple said, she will finally “get” it. Jeff will be the very happiest this year. He is a Christmas fanatic. Before we were married he made us leave milk and cookies out for Santa and track his path on Santa radar. (I also had to get up in the middle of the night and throw out the now-warm milk and chunk the cookies into the nether regions of the freezer so they wouldn’t be spied exposing my secret….dont tell Jeff, he may be crushed.)

Last year, the whole Elf on a Shelf nonsense didn’t go over very well. Ella didn’t really care and we lost interest. (Click HERE to see the Elf shenanigans)  

In fact, we didn’t even spend the money (why is that string bean of an Elf so damn expensive??) and used a Elmo Elf that we had received the year before. Honestly though, the whole idea super fucking creeps me out. We tell our kids that a mythical Elf is watching over them to report back to Santa??

Yeah, I am sorry, if you guys are pissed off about the NSA then you should not be encouraging “the man” to keep watch over your kids during the holiday season.  I know, I know, it’s supposed to be an incentive to keep your kids on their best behavior (which I am all for, I am not against bribes. The promise of fruit snacks got me through Ella’s terrible twos) however, the idea of a fat man coming down the chimney bringing presents because his super creepy elf was watching you all season…I don’t know. It’s all too much.

I want to enjoy the leaves changing color, scare some trick-or-treaters, cook a turkey, dress all snazzy for some holiday parties, open some pj’s on Christmas Eve, and then we can talk about Santa and all his creepy, breaking-an-entering antics. Let’s slow down. One thing at a time. It’s still September after all...

Let’s make a deal. I will promise to be less of a Grinch if we can all agree to take one holiday at a time. I may even get my own Elf on a Shelf…he may be creepy, but I could use the leverage with the tiny maniacs over here. (Can I borrow $30? I should have just coughed up the dough when he was on sale after Christmas last year.)

Xoxo

P.S. I know there were an awful lot of parenthesis in this little blog.  I am toying with the idea of footnotes, maybe? I don’t know, what do you think?

Lessons from Barney

I am certain that at one point I said this was going to be the “toughest thing that we would ever do in our lives”? And if my memory serves me, I remember hearing, “It will be worth it.”

Let us go back to that moment. Let us remember the relief we felt from finally being on the same page. Let us be reminded of the kind words and sweet emotions that filled that conversation. Let us dwell in the idea that relationships take hard work, commitment, communication and compromise. We knew it would take time. Lots of time. Lots of work. Lots of screw ups. What is that cliché saying, time heals all wounds? I guess this is one huge fucking gash and it will leave a scar, but even with time (and enough Mederma) it will fade.

 Ben wanted to watch Barney after his nap today. He kept asking for “Barney ChooChoo!” I sat on the couch with him and may have learned a thing or two about life from that damned purple dinosaur:

1.      Uh, ok, yikes, whoopsises! Making mistakes is the way you learn.

2.      All you need to do is try to be more careful next time.

3.      Keep trying and trying, every day and night, until you get it right.

4.      It’s a bright new day, full of possibilities!

5.      It could be bright outside or pouring rain, we know the weather can always change.

6.      We know we will make the most out of every day.

Like Ben’s shirt said today: All you need is love. Oh, and time. And work. And commitment.  And compassion. And well, so maybe the Beetles were a tad short sighted.

xoxo

My Mother's Day Fantasy

I hope everyone had a fabulous Mother’s Day! Mine was good, but not the way I typically decide to celebrate MY day. For the past couple years, this is how my Mother’s Day goes…

1.       I pick out a piece of jewelry and obsessively remind my husband about it for the weeks leading up to the big day.

2.       I ask my husband to give me the day off. The whole damn day. Maybe I will meet up with the attachments for dinner, but otherwise- I am off duty.

3.       I prefer to sleep in, but my darling (totally deaf to the children) husband NEVER seems to hear them in the morning. I have to forcefully gently nudge him awake and threaten remind him to get up with the kids….like now. ASAP. Time is of the essence. Otherwise I will just be awake lying in bed because I have already been up for 20 minutes  badgering urging him to go hang with the littles while I get my beauty rest.

4.       Coffee. With Baileys. Yum. Please bring it to me in bed. With a sweet card proclaiming your love and adoration for my very being. Oh, and flowers. Who doesn’t really just want pretty flowers??

5.       Shower. I want to take a long hot shower, shaving all the appropriate areas and conditioning my hair twice, should I choose. I also want to get dressed and fix my hair while watching Vampire Diaries without Ella asking me when she will need to wear a bra or Ben thinking its funny to squirt lotion all over the floor.

6.       Brunch. I want all my favorite ladies to have the morning off from motherhood too. Bloody Marys, mimosas, margaritas…whatever strikes my fancy while sitting on a patio. Perfection.

7.       Manicure/Pedicure. An hour and a half of someone else focusing on my needs. And right now, after all the cold weather, my toostsies could use some pampering.

8.       Now would be the perfect time for a nap. I would cross my fingers that the kids nap, too. Maybe a little afternoon delight with the handsome husband.  Who knows? But, definitely the nap.

9.       Early dinner out with the family. Patio, chips and salsa, maybe a nice cold beer with the ones I love the most.

10.   Bedtime. Curled up on the couch watching a movie with my hubby while he gives me a 30 minute head rub. Yes, Jeff, 30 minutes. That is my idea of heaven.

11.   10 hours of uninterrupted sleep followed by the chaos of the day AFTER Mother’s Day. The real Mother’s Day….the day that reminds you that you are, in fact, a mother.

BUT, this year Jeff had to work, so I spent the day with the kids…like any other typical day. We hung out at the house, had breakfast, played dolls, watched some silly kids show. Ben took a nap while Ella and I watched some crazy Barbie Princess turned Popstar movie. After naptime we met up with two fabulous ladies and their kids for some lunch on a patio and a couple Shiners. Their husbands were working too, so we made the best of the afternoon and had our own Mother’s Day celebration. I am so very thankful for all the funny, intelligent, spontaneous and strong women in my life. They truly make this adventure through motherhood so much more navigable.

When I pulled into the driveway yesterday evening after our outing, Jeff was standing in the driveway with a bouquet of flowers and a card. He had left work early to surprise me at home and help put the kids to bed. Then  we I caught up on two episodes of Vampire Diaries and called it a night. He did say the sweetest thing I have ever heard though, “I promise you will get to have a makeup Mother’s Day very soon.” Awww….it damn near brought tears to my eyes.

xoxo

The House that Meagan Built.

Warning: I realize that I run the risk of sounding like an introspective selfish teenager. I don’t care. It’s either this or an ulcer? Well, perhaps not an ulcer, but it is not good to hold things in, right? Whatever. This is happening.

I have been searching for “me” recently. I think that having children has really blurred my sense of self. My husband never thought I would be a very good mother. He assumed that I would be too selfish. I can honestly say that I think I have surprised us both. I am caring, (fairly) compassionate, hard-working and I would venture to say selfless. Yep, selfless. This was a pretty huge revelation.  I have put everyone else’s needs above my own. I assume everyone is busier, everyone is more tired, and everyone is more stressed. I have decided that my needs should always be put on the back burner. Always.

Truthfully, this is a house of cards that I have unknowingly built. I have become my family’s everything. I support, structure, and care for everyone all the time. I am forever the cheerleader, supporting everyone else’s goals and dreams. I have built this odd structure that depends on me to keep all the balls in the air. I am tired of juggling. I want my own cheerleader. I want my goals and dreams to be supported and for others to make concessions while I try things out. I don’t have that luxury. I have two kids who are completely dependent on me- which is the way that childhood should be.

I have a husband who is dedicated to supporting our family and fostering his passions. I have fully supported his need to be happy, productive and successful. Quite frankly, my life is easier when he feels happy and fulfilled. So for the last 9 years I have been on a mission to make sure that he is happy and content. I love him and when you love someone it makes your heart happy to know that you have a small part in their happiness. I set this structure up. It is my fault. I don’t regret it- it has made me find parts of myself that I didn’t know existed.

I didn’t know I had the capacity to love so deeply, to care about people so completely, to truly put someone else’s needs above mine. I am so happy to have two wonderful children. I adore them. I never thought I even wanted kids until my husband came along. I never thought I could lose myself so completely in a relationship. I had never been comfortable giving that much of myself before. Ever. I needed to retain “Meagan”. I needed to always have quick access to the protective walls I had built around myself. Gone are the walls and the lines are completely blurred. But now, I am just lost.

I need my own support. I have also recently come to the conclusion that this will be just as hard for me as on my family. They have become so accustomed to my always being there, bending to their needs, rearranging my plans and putting me on the back burner. This will be a learning process for all of us. We will need to acknowledge that the current arrangement isn’t working for all parties involved. There will be some give and take. There will be some pushback. I anticipate some anger and growing pains, but I think it is necessary.

There are quite a few Henry David Thoreau quotes that I could leave you with, but here is my favorite:

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. -Henry David Thoreau, 1854

xoxo

Elmo on a Shelf

Elmo the Elf has come to our house again. Two Christmases ago we received him from Jeff’s mom and Ella fell in love. I decided that he was as good as any “Elf on a shelf” and he didn’t cost me $30, so it was a win-win. I have since decided that he is too bulky and heavy to accomplish all the silly missions that I had cleverly stolen from Pinterest.  Jeff and I were pretty good about moving that damn Elf around for the first week, but then laziness took over and we haven’t moved it since…oops. Its ok, Ella didn’t seem to mind. Here are a couple pictures of our Elmo on a Shelf shananagans:

 



See, I am festive! Sort of. Ok, festive with extreme minimal effort. Happy Holidays!

xoxo

Screw you, Stomach Bug!

You thought I would actually let this whole week go by without a blog?? Clearly you don’t know me. Well, actually you probably do or you wouldn’t be reading this drivel. Let me set the scene:

DAY 5 of STOMACH BUG HELL:

I am sitting at the computer in the kids play room, wasting time on Pinterest and watching a Sex and the City marathon. Quite frankly, right now, it may be the only thing saving my sanity. I will refrain from telling you how many books in The Vampire Diaries series I have already read. (five) But, in my defense, the kids have been napping a lot and I have been forgoing showers, because I am just going to be shat upon again anyways…

Last night I got 2.5 hours of sleep. I took two long naps yesterday while the kids slept and wasn’t tired last night, finally forcing my eyes closed at 1 am, only to be awoken at 2 am by a screaming Ben.  I crawled back into bed and maybe 20 minutes later I heard the worst noise from Ella stomach. OMG. Something so tiny shouldn’t be able to release something so horrid and stinky. I will spare the details (she is a lady, damnit.) but this went on every half hour or so for the rest of the night. Around 6 am she fell into a deep slumber. Ben woke up at 7am. BAM. Welcome to parenthood, sucker!

I have no family in town, so there isn’t much backup around here. Oh, and did I mention that my loving husband is out of town? Oh, and did I mention that he has succumb to the bug too…yeah. As of yet (knocking wood and crossing fingers and silent prayers) I have not had these bug symptoms. I would like to thank three things for my strong stomach: tabasco, garlic and whiskey. Which leads me to my next dilemma…

My extreme lack of whiskey. I have an AMAZING friend whom I commissioned to make a grocery store run for me. Everything was fine until she went to the liquor store across the road and they were closed! Like for good. No liquor on the shelves. Nada. This was Saturday evening. Then comes Sunday and the liquor stores are closed anyways! (stupid archaic Texas prohibition laws) So, I am almost a week into this bug that has infiltrated my home and I am without my magic get-well-soon elixir. Yes, in this case I am drawing a parallel between whiskey and prescription drugs. My mother-in-law calls wine her “medicine” so I figure that it is a perfectly reasonable conclusion.

But, alas! I have received a text that promises a delivery of whiskey and toilet paper!! (yes, we have been going through a lot of that here in the last day or two).  In just a couple hours I will be drinking a whiskey (with a splash of coke) and eating garlic based soup laced with copious amounts of tabasco.

FUCK YOU, STOMACH BUG! Good riddance. But, thanks for all the down time to read my adolescent Vampire books…

xoxo

Gratuitous Vampire Diaries picture. Your welcome.

 

The Best.

Last night was shitty. I judge my nights based on the quality and the number of hours of sleep that I get. Last night was one of the shitty ones- Lack of both quantity and quality. I am too exhausted to bore you with the details, but lets just say it involved me stepping in pee, and it wasnt from a four-legged animal. (Although, truthfully, I would rather clean up human pee. Somehow it just seems more sanitary.)
After getting my lazy ass off the couch and dragging myself to the coffee pot, I go into the playroom and see my beautiful children laying on the rug laughing together. Oblivious to my presence, they smile and laugh and revel in each others company. I decided that I expect the best from them every day- and quite frankly, they should expect the best from me. They DESERVE my BEST every day. Even when I am tired and cranky...as hard as that may be. It is my job to teach them how to make The Best of What's Around (I have been listening to Dave all morning) and enjoy every moment we are given.
So today, I vow to give my children the best of me (or at the very least, the pretty decent of me). Those two little cuties make my heart sing and for that they deserve the world. Thank you Ella & Ben. xoxo

PS. While writing this Ben is napping and Ella is blowing bubbles on me...that counts as good parenting right? Yes, that counts, the TV is off, so that is clearly good parenting. yea, me!

Mommies don't need sleep.

Who needs sleep right? Have you seen the ecard that says something like, "now that you have decided to have kids, I hope you plan to never sleep again." Last night I think that it was written by me and for me.
Lets start at the beginning...
While I was at work last night Ben accidentally fell off the changing table onto his neck. I got a call from Jeff which usually only means one of two things: First, that a kid is sick/hurt/crying or secondly (and more common) he can't find something and needs to know where it is. Unfortunately when he called, I could hear the fear in his voice. "Meagan, Ben fell off the changing table onto his neck. He is asleep in his crib now and I have checked on him three times and he seems ok, but I just dont know what to do." SHIT. And more importantly, didnt I just tell you yesterday that he is prone to rolling off and you must watch him like a hawk?? Yes. But, Jeff is a dude, and dudes only listen to about half of the precausionary advice we give them. But, I digress...
Jeff checked on him at 9:30pm and was feeling around on Ben's neck which wakes a screamimg banchee that can only be calmed by the comfort of a bottle. Ben then wakes up again at midnight, by this time I am home. I decide to get him up for a bottle so that I can check him out. He seemed fine. He then wakes at 1:30am, I let him fuss for a couple minutes and he goes back to sleep. At 4am, he is screaming again, I change his diaper, put some pants on him, give him a tiny bottle and he is back in bed by 4:10am. Pfew- back to bed. Just as I get comfy cozy, I hear singing over the monitor...yes, its the Happy Birthday song. OMG, its Ella SINGING!!! Its freaking 4:15am and apparently Ella decides its a great time for a vocal workout.
I go in there 10 minutes later and she looks at me and says, Hi Mom. Hi. Go to bed. Whats with the singing? She tells me that Ben was crying and woke her up and now she needs to go pee pee. She doesnt go back to sleep until 5:30ish. I turned off the monitor. Frankly, I just didnt even care. What is that line in the book, "And go the f*ck to sleep"...yes, kids, go the fuck to sleep.
Good news though, Ben seemed fine this morning. Babies are resilient, however Daddies less so. Jeff was a nervous wreck. Poor thing told me that he "broke" Ben. That's precisely why I just dont tell him when Ben rolls off the couch or Ella ran around all day without underwear, or that I found her trying to put the car key in the outdoor outlet by the front door. I am super mom, and I will be damned to break that illusion. Oh damn, cover blown. It's fine, I am sure he knew my mothering skills were too good to be true.
Long story short...coffee will be my best friend this morning (and yes, I put Kahlua in it), Ben is fine and I need to put Ella into music classes (at this point I need her to fund my retirement). She had a pretty sweet rendition of Mary had a little lamb last night. When is nap time?

Spinning Babies

Alright, a 37 week update on this sweet little baby boy...
He is transverse. He is laying sideways, like in a hammock on the beach waiting for a cocktail and someone with a palm frond to fan him. I mean, can you blame him? Who wants to spend their time hanging upside down? He isn't a vampire! However, he is making my desire for a happy, healthy, "normal" birth that much more difficult.
I went to an acupuncturist this past Thursday to see if that helps encourage him to flip. There are also some herbal pills that are supposed to aid in his flipping potential, so I am taking those...THEN, I have a chiropractic appointment to also help him make a little flip-a-roo.
I know this all sounds a bit crazy, but if I don't try, I will never know. I really don't want to have a repeat c-section. The recovery from major surgery sucked the first time around. Although, to be honest, if we did schedule a c-section (assuming he wont flip) our families can plan when to come in town, Jeff can schedule his work around the birth...it would be much easier in a planning sense.
I have until my next doctors appointment to see if he flips, if not, we schedule a c-section for the following week. Then, before the c-section, he will check again to see if the little boy is cooperating. If not, we go for a c-section, if he flips, we hope that I go into labor!
I admit, the unknown is driving me nuts. But, I will do what I can and he will do what he can...either way, we will be meeting this sweet little boy very soon!

Birthing balls and Doulas.

So, Jeff and I met with a doula today. In case you are unfamiliar with the crunchy-granola, natural birth circles, a doula is a person who is a trained and certified labor support specialist. This person is with you throughout the labor and birth of the baby and helps aid in physical and emotional support for the parents. A doula also acts as an advocate between you and the hospital/doctor/nursing staff to ensure that birthing plans are followed (to the best of their ability and safety).
I had an emergency cesarean the first time and am hoping to have a natural labor and birth the second time around. I felt like my best chance of a successful VABC would be to hire a doula. She can help me make informed decisions throughout the labor process and comes loaded with a bag of tricks! She has birthing balls, and varieties of coping positions and all kinds of aids to facilitate a productive VBAC! I am so relieved! I feel like just knowing that I have someone there who is experienced with L&D and the hospital procedures will be an extraordinary help!
Oh, and the bonus to this wonderful story...she does birthing and post-delivery pictures too!! INCLUDED in her fee! That's awesome! She can take pictures of Jeff catching the little guy as he comes out, or cutting the cord, or of our first family picture- the FOUR of us, or Ella kissing her little brother on the head...oh, how sweet! Then she will make the pics into a slide show (I promise I wont make you watch it) and give us a CD of the pictures and a written birth story!
Needless to say, I am so happy and relieved to have come to this decision, even if it is pretty late in the game. The doula also recommended a chiropractor in the area that is trained in prenatal care who can help with baby placement, making sure that the baby is head down and engaged properly- even furthering to help my chances at a successful VBAC! Hooray!
Lets do this!! Well, lets do this anytime after November 1st. Oh, happy day!

Where is the reset button?

So, I am addicted to Pinterest and I remembered that I have a quote that I find to be extremely accurate these past couple days and especially today...

"She cries not because she is weak, but because she has been strong for so long."

That is how I feel today. I suppose that I have found my threshold and today, well, today I cry. A lot. I am exhausted. Not just physically (I mean, I am 35 weeks pregnant and have a 2.5 year old), I am mentally and emotionally exhausted. I don't complain often, especially about being pregnant. I have always just figured that being pregnant sucks for everyone. Everyone gets tired, everyone feels gigantic and slow moving...and really, no one can do anything for you, so why complain? But- its the squeaky wheel that gets the grease, and I am just not squeaky...nor do I consequently get the grease.

I am exhausted of taking care of everyone. YES. EVERYONE! My daughter, my husband, the dogs, family that is in town...making sure that we have groceries, toilet paper, diapers, coffee, the bills are paid. I go to work and wait on people, making sure they have drinks, food, napkins, etc. All day long every day, I am constantly making sure that everyone around me is happy, healthy and fulfilled. Now, most of the time, this makes me very happy. I love knowing that I can make other people happy and content. There is an innate nurturing gene in women, I think, that makes us take on the this role. Hunting vs. gathering. Men go out to provide, women stay home and nurture. I mean, hell, its worked this long, why rock the boat!

But- there are moments in life, much like today, when I surrender. I want a mommy, a wife, a cook, an errand runner, a nanny, a surrogate to carry this baby for just a night or so so that I can get a restful nights sleep. I cry because as much as I try, I still find myself frustrated and exhausted. It is even harder to admit it to myself as it is to say it out loud. I do a damn good job at juggling all the balls, but they are bound to fall once in a while. And, I need to give myself permission to allow those balls to fall, so that when I pick them back up, I have a new energy and passion for keeping those balls in the air.

I guess no one has it all together. Everyone is allowed to reboot every once and a while. Maybe that is what I need to do. Reboot. Restart. Ctrl+Alt+Del. Oh, and take a nap...if that overtired toddler of mine would just sleep and make my day a bit easier. Thanks for listening. Let me know that I am not the only one out there...and then meet me at the spa, God knows we could use a nice massage and some cucumber water. xoxo