Mommy Guilt: One momma's rant

Mommy Guilt.
Let's talk about that for a minute, okay.

Like how I seriously despise going to the park.
But for some reason, admitting this fact gives me guilt.
As if admittance to my lack of excitement to have sand in my shoes,
get stuck in the tube slide, and experience sweat dripping down my back
somehow makes me a bad mom.

And then there's the other kind of guilt.
The guilt I feel when I'm having a bad day.
Like yesterday.

Yesterday Baby W misbehaved in more ways than I can count.
Terrible twos doesn't even begin to cover his behavior all day.
Food was thrown and mutilated,
furniture became a jungle gym,
diapers were ripped off,
poo was touched,
toys were thrown from moving vehicles,
and piercing shrieks were heard by the entire neighborhood.

But I stayed positive,
because that's my new goal as a Momma.
To brush off the things that don't matter.
To remind myself that this too shall pass.
To focus on his milestones, rather than his meltdowns.

I even devoted more of my energy to catering to his whims.
My "list" was ignored
as I spent the day building with blocks,
playing in the hose outside,
and singing Elmo's world
over and over
and over.

Maybe he just needs some extra quality Momma time today,
I told myself.

So I smiled and made the best of his horrid behavior.

But then,
that night he did something so terrible
so horrible, so unforgivable {if he weren't my pride and joy},
that I couldn't keep the smile on my face any longer.

He took my brand new
iPhone 4
and he threw it in the toilet.

And you know what...
He knew exactly what he was doing.
I could see it on his face.
The look that said,
Well, what are you gonna do now?
Did I break you yet, Momma?

And he had.
I snapped.

WESLEY, WHAT did you do?!!!!
I snatched him up and put him in his "time out" area,
(an area he has yet to understand)
and proceeded to tell him just how bad his behavior was.

Of course I used toddler language.
Things like bad boy.
Mommy is very upset.
You are in big trouble.
That is not okay.
You are in time out now.
I even gave his hands one of those little slaps that
says I will never hurt you, but you need to know that I am serious.
He didn't shed a tear,
and refused to make eye contact--proof he inherited the stubborn gene.

I told his Dad to come talk to him,
then I walked into the other room
took a deep breath
and I cried.
For over an hour.
Crying turned into sobbing,
which turned into swollen eyes, slimy nose
and my ugly dog face.
It was a bit ridiculous.
But we all need a good cry every now and then.

You see, it wasn't about the iPhone,
although that made me sick to my stomach.
It was about what Baby W's actions represented.
What his pure defiance said about my skills as a Momma.
And some of you may try to tell me
that a 2 year old can't possibly understand what he did.
But I know my kid,
and TRUST me,
he knew.
And that broke my heart.

Just when I had run out of tears,
I could hear my little man in the other room with his Dad.
Momma, Momma--peas peas {please please}.

He wanted to say he was sorry.

So I let him,
in the most adorable way he knows how.
Kiss Kiss, he said.
And he wrapped his little arms around me,
gave me a kiss on the lips
and went to sleep.

Me: Why do I feel like I'm doing a terrible job?
Hub: You're doing an amazing job, he's just difficult.
Me: That doesn't help. Why won't he listen to a word I say?
Hub: I don't really know. He's never been easy.
Me: But why does it have to be so hard.

And then I stopped myself right there,
and allowed the other kind of guilt to set in.

The kind of guilt that doesn't let a Momma ever feel sorry for herself.
The kind of guilt that tells you to suck it up.
The kind of guilt that tells you, you have no right to complain.

When I feel this guilt,
I always run through the same conversation with myself
{in my head of course}:
What right do I have to complain--I only have ONE kid!
What about Momma's with multiples...
Or single Momma's...
Or Momma's with husbands that are away all the time...
Or worse...What about Momma's that have children who have a medical condition.
Or with disabilities...
What right do I have to complain.
They have it harder than I can even fathom.

And then I kick my own butt,
tell myself to snap out of it,
and I suppress the stress and anxiety I am feeling,
because I have no right to feel this way, right?!

Last night, for the first time
I attempted to explain this feeling of guilt to my husband.

Me: I should be grateful. I should be counting my blessings, instead of complaining.
Hub: You do count your blessings. You are grateful, you say so every day.
Me: But I should have some perspective. In the scheme of things, it doesn't really matter that my brand new, very expensive phone no longer works. What if he were sick, and in the hospital--now that's something worth dwelling on. My concerns are so trivial...I shouldn't ever feel frustrated, I have it easy.

And then the husband said something so simple, yet it was just what I needed to hear.
He even used his slow soft spoken voice,
the one that tells me he really means what he's about to say.

Hub: Even Momma’s of kiddos who have a medical condition would get upset if their kid threw their new cell phone in the toilet.
Me: You think so? Said in my rarely used, soft spoken voice.
Hub: Yeah, I think so.

And at that moment, I felt a little less guilty.
I wrapped my arms around the hubs,
gave him a kiss, kiss
and went to sleep.

Mommy Advice That Makes Me Want to Scream

Taking Mommy advice is a tricky thing.
It seems I'm one of those Momma's who likes to give,
but often doesn't want to hear it.

Don't get me wrong,
I'll take any tips or hints or tricks
that might actually get my toddler to sleep through the night
at least once in his 21 months on this Earth.

And its not that I don't want to hear about what has worked for other Momma's, because trust me, I actually do.

It's just that sometimes,
the advice I hear
makes me feel...
hmmm, whats the word?
Defeated.

Because, I swear to you,
my kid is the exception to every rule.

There is no book written
that has the solutions to his...
How shall I put this?
His energy.

When he's awake,
nothing gets done.
And I've learned to accept that.

I wait for the moment he goes down for a nap
and then I speed through my daily list,
often with the heart rate of an Olympic sprinter.

So when I hear the most popular bit of Momma advice out there,
it usually makes me want to scream.

Said advice: Ya know, you should really sleep every time he goes down for a nap.  {Insert my frustrated scream here}

Well, sure, in a perfect world,
one where someone else ran my errands,
did my laundry, my dishes, my grocery shopping,
my diaper changing, my cooking {oh wait, I don't cook}...
In that world,
I would happily take a nap
when my kiddo does.

But until then,
nap time will continue to be
MY TIME
to get life done.

Even if I'm a tired Momma,
he's a happy and healthy boy
and for that I am 100% grateful.

*******************************************

Still time to enter these fabulous giveaways:

I Heart Nap Time

Giveaway

Barn Owl Primitives

Giveaway

The REAL Reason I'm Not Pregnant With No. 2

read this first.
____________

I'm scared.
I'm scared of how hard pregnancy is.
I'm scared of spending an entire 9 months hunched over a toilet,
of having a perpetual migraine.


I'm scared people will think I'm weak,
that I'm not trying hard enough,
that I should just suck it up.


I'm scared the hub's business will suffer,
or that my dreams will be put on hold.


I'm scared I won't be able to give my toddler the attention he deserves.
I'm scared that the hubs will have too much stress picking up my slack.
I'm scared I won't smile as much,
or laugh as much,
or remember my blessings each day.


Because when I am pregnant,
I become a different person.
A person that I am not particularly fond of.
A person who doesn't want to get out of bed in the morning.
A person who can't bear the thought of being social,
of blow drying my hair or of putting on makeup.


Because when I am pregnant,
I become depressed.
And frustrated,
as I long to have the abilities,
the strength,
the energy
that I had before.


When I was pregnant,
I developed Hyperemesis Gravidarum
and I'm scared it will happen again.


But I also have a dream.
A dream of a house full of kiddos,
arguing, and wrestling, and hugging and cuddling.
I dream of hectic weekday mornings dropping kids off at 3 different schools.
I dream of crazy Saturdays, running around between soccer games and baseball tournaments.
I dream of a full house, with bunk beds and toy chests
and more bicycles than we have room to store.


I dream of growing old,
and waking up Christmas morning to a house jam packed with grandkids,
and locking eyes with my hubby from across the room
and nodding in subtle agreement that
it was all totally worth it.


And because I want to make my dream a reality,
I will do it all over again,
and again,
and probably again.
But not today.


Today, I will kiss these smushy cheeks,
and I will count my blessings.

Baby W's can't live without it, super cuddly Lovey baby blanket is courtesy of Blanket My Baby.  You can get 10% OFF your very own plush goodness with the code: missmomma10.

Baby Nutrition Parenting Tips Baby Picture Contests

Personalized Infant Gifts Baby Jogging Strollers Infant Diapers

It's My Job to Worry, right?

So I've determined
that it's a Momma's job to worry.


We worry when they're in our bellies.
Is he kicking enough?
Is he getting enough nutrients?
Was that bath I took too hot?
Is he facing the right direction?
Will he be healthy when I deliver him?

And then, when they are born we worry even more.
Is he growing enough?
Is he eating enough?
Why isn't he sitting up yet?
Should he be walking?
How long will his fever last?
Am I reading to him enough?
Should I let him watch television?
Do we pray enough together?
Why won't he sit still?

And then, when they begin toddling around,

the list of worries magnifies.

Have I baby proofed everything?
Should I let him eat that?
Is he too old for a bottle?
How do I discipline him?

How bad is it that I sleep in his bed every night?

Does he understand what I'm saying?
Should I have him in preschool?
Will he make friends easily?
Why won't he eat meat?

Or fruit?

Or any food, for that matter?

And there's nothing quite like a Doctor's appointment
to really amp up the stress.
Without fail, at every checkup
my heart starts to race when I see the Doctor open his folder,
and I know what's coming next...
The "development" questions.
The series of questions he asks to see
how Baby W is coming along.

Every time, I worry.
Worry that he won't measure up,
that his "percentile" won't be in the norm,
that I will somehow be responsible for
setting him back.

And this last Doctor's visit was no different.
Doc: Does he alternate feet when he walks up stairs?
Me: Uh, we don't have stairs?
Doc: Well, when you're around stairs what does he do?
Me: Uh, I guess he crawls up them.
{my palms are sweating as he jots something down in the file}

Doc: How many teeth does he have?
Me: Uh...a lot.
{ugh, I should know this one}
Doc: Ok, I'll just count them later.
{fyi: he has 16--which basically makes him a baby werewolf}

Doc: How many words does he use in a sentence?
Me: Excuse me? {did he just say "sentence"}
Doc: How many words long are his sentences?
Me: Um, he doesn't use sentences--ever. But he can say Ma Ma {I say with a half smile}. Does that count as two words?

Our Doctor half smiles back.

Me: How many words long should his sentences be?
Doc: Well, he should be regularly using 2-3 word sentences to communicate.

My heart hits the floor.
I'm lucky if he uses 2-3 different words a day.

The doctor notices how pale I have gotten so he puts his arm around me and utters his famous last words:

Doc: But I wouldn't worry about it too much...

Right.
But its my job to worry.

____________________________________

Say hi, it will make you happy:

I'm Here to Stay {and a DISCOUNT}

Little Miss Momma: Etched in Stone

{and a DISCOUNT}

{Shirt: Gap, Necklace: Jessica N Designs, Camera Strap: Mel V}

MOMENT OF PURE HONESTY:

Sometimes, Little Miss Momma has one of those days.

The one's where I feel like giving up.

Like throwing in the towel.

Where I ask myself, can I make this work?

Where I wonder, is this a blessing to my family or a burden?

Do I know what I'm getting myself into?

Can I please everyone--do I even want to?

Am I prepared for the crazies and the meanies that will come out of the woodwork?

And sometimes, just sometimes a negative attitude

and a doubting conscious

get the best of me,

and I convince myself to "call it quits".

But only for a moment.

Because then I check my inbox that minutes earlier I was stressing over,

and I smile, as I read your messages...

Because your words assure me that I am not alone,

that you have all been there before.

That on some days,

each and every one of us has our doubts,

questions our potential.

But that doesn't mean we stop.

And your words remind me why...

WHY I do this.

WHY this matters to me.

WHY this is totally worth it.

WHY I am NOT going anywhere.

So when I received my new Jessica N Designs necklace on a day when I was having one of those moments,

I chuckled at the irony.

Little Miss Momma is etched in stone now!

{actually, it's sterling silver}

But the point is,

I'm here to stay.

And this necklace is my reminder of WHY!

What's YOUR reminder of why it's all worth it?

A Big Big thank you to Jessica N Designs,

for my adorable necklace.

Jessica's shop is overflowing with little beauties that I want oh-so-bad!

Ladies, seriously, you're gonna want to send your

"significant other" here for Valentine's Day!

And Jessica is giving ALL Little Miss Momma readers

a BIG OL DISCOUNT:

15% OFF

with the code: LMM15 

{type in the coupon box at checkout}

I {heart} my LMM necklace by Jessica!

BTW: this is Jessica.

She is adorable.

And she is about to give birth at any moment.

Seriously, like she could actually be "pushing" at this very moment!

Isn't she stunning!

Be sure to follow her blog and facebook for the latest news on discounts and giveaways!

What Matters

I can always count on this face,

 to remind me what matters most.

A Moment of Panic in Momma-hood

It can strike at any time.

At the park.

At the dinner table.

In the shower.

This time it happened at the grocery store.

At first, everything is fine.

I go about my usual routine--nothing out of the ordinary, just a regular day.

And then it happens.

Almost out of nowhere,

I become overwhelmed--but not in the good way.

My body becomes flooded with panic--panic that I am messing up at this whole Momma-hood job.

My heart beats faster, my arm pits tingle {yes, this happens when I get anxious}, and the room feels like it's 100 degrees.

A million things that I am surely failing at begin to race through my mind.

He doesn't eat a balanced enough diet.

He should be sleeping in his own bed.

I should have weaned him from a bottle by now.

I'm not reading to him enough.

Am I getting him enough social interaction?

Do I have enough patience with him?

Oh man, he's not on a waiting list for one of those popular

pre-schools--should he be?

Does he play outside enough?

Is he watching too much TV?

The list goes on.

And for some reason, I convince myself that every other Momma I know has got it all figured out.

That I am the only one making mistakes every day.

The only one who is near certain that I will blame myself for every mistake my son will ever make.

And then I force myself to take a deep breath,

I finish buying my groceries,

take a look at my son smiling back at me,

and I force the moment of panic to pass me by.

Because this is Momma-hood:

Always worrying that you're not doing enough,

that your kids failures will be your own,

that you're messing up.

And then you take a deep breath {which we Momma's don't do enough}, and you remind yourself that Momma-hood is MOSTLY:

Hugs and kisses.

Miracles and milestones.

And moments like these.

Roller Coaster

This evening I had about 15 minuted of down time in my crazy busy day.

The hubby was working late and Baby W was hinting for some cuddle time.

And since cuddle time is my favorite part of every day,

I curled up on the couch to take advantage.

We snuggled as I flipped through the channels.

I saw that one of my all-time favorite movies was on TV,

Parenthood {with Steve Martin}.

I hadn't seen the movie since becoming a parent myself.

Let's just say, I wasn't prepared for the overwhelming emotion I would feel through every single scene of the movie. 

It was like the writers had some how taken every emotion, every fear, every heartbreak, every milestone, every awe-ha moment a parent could ever possibly conceive and they wrapped it up ever-so-perfectly into 120 minutes of laughter and tears.

At one point I looked at Baby W, my eyes filled with tears,
and I felt...

Well, I don't really know the word for what I felt,

so I guess you could say "I had one of those moments".

And in that moment, I took a mental picture,

and placed it in the most cherished section of my memory bank.

FAVORITE QUOTE FROM PARENTHOOD:

{by the crazy old grandma}

"You know, when I was nineteen, Grandpa took me on a roller coaster.

Up, down, up, down.

Oh, what a ride!

I always wanted to go again.

You know, it was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together!

Some didn't like it.

They went on the merry-go-round.

That just goes around.

Nothing.

I like the roller coaster.

You get more out of it."

-Grandma from PARENTHOOD (The Movie)

Life is like a theme park ride.

Will you chose the roller coaster

or the merry-go-round?
________________________________
Stay tuned tomorrow for a chic giveaway!
I'll give you a hint:

  And then, more SECRETS will be revealed on Thursday!