The Trouble With Comparisons

Sometimes I get mad, and I mean really mad, at my husband because I don't think he thinks I am a good enough wife or mom. But here's the thing (and this is like the biggest truth I could ever spew)...he has never, ever, EVER, not even once, given me any reason to think that he felt that way about me. In fact, he will randomly on a Wednesday decide to text me in the middle of the day, while we are both at work, to tell me that I'm a great mom and the 3 of them are lucky to have me. So why in the name of all that is good in this world, would I get mad at him for making me feel that I wasn't good enough?

The answer is simple.

Me. I am the reason I get mad at him for me not feeling like I am good enough. I let my own insecurities and self doubt get SO loud that I not only believe that they are the truth, I also convince myself that everyone else must think the same. My own lies and clouded judgments brought on by paying more attention to what I DON'T do than to what I actually do take over and it is all downhill from there.

But I don't think I'm alone there. I think to some extent, we all go down the rabbit hole of comparisons even more than we actually realize or care to admit.

Things I Need My Kids To Know

An oldie, but a goodie...

Dear Ben and Blake,

I was watching you play tonight at YaYa and PaPa's house when I was there to pick you up after work and I couldn't help  it...all I could do was stare at you. You both bounced from one thing to the next with such purpose and at the same time with no care in the world. You made each other laugh, you ran in circles, you played dice at the table and you mimicked each other. You gave me hugs, you asked how my day was, and you softened the blow of what was honestly, one of the most mentally and emotionally challenging weeks I have had in a long long time.

All I wanted to do was bottle every bit of happiness you exude right up. All I wanted to do was figure out how to keep you small, to keep you laughing, to keep you as free as you were...and as you usually are.

But, despite my best efforts, I can't do any of that.

I cannot stop you from growing up. I cannot promise you won't have a week from hell, that your feelings won't get hurt, that your heart won't get broken, that you won't bat last in the lineup, that you won't feel defeated and that you won't get knocked down a few pegs every now and then.

Inside That School

It seems a little silly that something like my baby starting Kindergarten could bring me to tears as quickly as it has been able to the past 24 hours, but I have totally fallen victim to the whole "how is time going so incredibly fast" thing.

You see, I am pretty sure it was just a few days ago when I was holding each of my boys in my arms and swaying them back to sleep while we danced and rocked in the middle of the dining room of our old apartment listening to Elton John's "Your Song" on repeat. And I think it was only hours ago when I was feeding them their bottles in the rocking chair and staring at their brand new selves wondering what I did to deserve a love like this. I swear they just took their first steps, and just said their first words and just said "I love you" for the first time...but apparently I'm a little off. Because apparently all of that was actually 5 & 8 years ago and apparently they had to start  school today and apparently I was never going to be emotionally equipped to handle any of this.

Honestly.

The Truth About Moms

If there is one thing I am very certain of in life, it is that I, in NO way, truly appreciated the value of my mom until I became one.

I wasn't ungrateful (well, actually I probably was ungrateful, but it totally wasn't intentional), and I didn't discount everything she did (well, I probably did, but only because I had no idea what it actually took to do what she did), and I didn't think what she did was easy. But, I definitely didn't know how grateful I truly was, or how much she really did, or how difficult what she did was until I was fortunate enough to become a mom.

I was clueless, really. I mean honestly, there was just no way to know until it was my turn. Even if you think you are prepared, even if you read all of the books, listen to all of the stories told by those who have traveled this road before you, even if you paid attention to and tried to remember all of the things that your mom did that made you feel as loved as you were...there is no way to know what it takes to be a mom until you walk down that road.

Parenting...You're Doing It Wrong

I am not the best parent in the world, and I am totally okay with that.

Some days I nail it. I run this thing like I know exactly what I am doing and everything falls into place. We all wake up on time, I remember to make dinner, we all brush our teeth in the morning and at night, and nobody throws themselves on the floor in a raging tantrum that is worthy of an award. Some days, I am spot on.

Most days, I am not. Most days involve a lot of yelling, or at the very least, extremely loud talking by 3/4 of us. Most days involve some sort of tantrum  and all days involve a fair amount of tattling. I forget something relatively important every single day and if we ever arrive somewhere on time and are all wearing shoes, I consider us early and overdressed.

However, I like to look at all of the shit show days as teaching moments. Sometimes for the kids, but mostly for me. Nobody can teach you how to parent. It's too messy, situations are different, children don't fit into a mold. The only way to learn how to parent is through trial and error (and error and error).

Through Parenting Eyes

Parenting is tough. Even during the fun stuff, it is tough. It is the most rewarding thing you could ever imagine and while it is too much of an awesome thing to call a job, it's a full time gig. It's a constant stream of thoughts, a puddle of tears, a room full of laughter...it is everything and it is always and it is what you do even when it's not what you are physically doing at the moment.

You live it and love it and struggle the struggles. Some nights the only thing left to do is pass out from sheer exhaustion and some nights you just want to steal all of the snuggles and stare at them while they are sleeping because you know those snuggle days are numbered. You sleep when you can and then you wake up to the faces of the little people who challenge every ounce of your being and fill your heart with a love that has no chance of description. So you roll out of bed, try to pay no attention to the amount of sleep you got and you do it all again...because doing it all is what you do.