Blessed

 

                This morning, I woke up next to my husband and gently kissed him on the cheek. As I watched him sleep soundly, I crept silently out of bed and headed towards the shower. The hot water helped my brain wake up after a night of only seven and a half hours of sleep. As I shaved my legs, I started mentally planning the day ahead of me. I was feeling excited about baking the homemade organic quinoa muffins I had found on Pinterest for breakfast. I just knew the whole family would happily scarf them down before we all headed out to start our days. I then reminded myself that today was the Book Fair at the Elementary School, and made a mental note to get my order form in to the girls’ teachers when I dropped them off at school this morning. And thank goodness for that awakening shower, otherwise I might have forgotten that there was a PTO meeting at the school tonight, right after soccer practice. That reminded me, I needed to get fresh fruit to slice up for the meeting! I made a plan to do this right after Crossfit at 9:00am.  As I dried myself off, I felt extremely blessed by the busy day I was about to take part in. I just love the hectic schedules we have these days. Although it is trying at times, it is so rewarding to help my children with their homework, and to wash their little faces every night in the bathtub. The highlight of my day is reading to each of my babies before tucking them in with a goodnight kiss to end their day on a perfect note. Then of course, the night gets even better after the children are sleeping, when my husband and I sit back and reflect on how incredibly lucky we are to have our three little miracles. Watching his face light up over how much he loves his kids, his wife, and his job makes me feel so lucky to have the life with which I have been blessed. I smiled to myself as I thought about our nightly ritual of putting the kids to bed together, before retiring to our own bedroom for our one-on-one time as a happily married couple. I sighed in content and began blow drying my hair, smiling in the mirror at my oh- so- lucky self.

Things I Just Lied About

·         Waking up next to my husband and kissing him on the cheek (Not possible, as he is long gone by the time I wake up)

·         Showering

·         Seven and a half hours of sleep

·         Shaving my legs (See above bullet labeled “showering”)

·         Making or consuming homemade organic quinoa muffins

·         Ever looking on Pinterest

·         Getting any order form turned in on time

·         Being a member of the PTO

·         Taking the time to slice fresh fruit

·         Going to Crossfit

·         Loving hectic schedules

·         Using something other than a wet nap to wash my kids’ faces

·         Reading to my children every night

·         Basking in luxurious kissy goo-goo lovey-dovey moments with my husband

·         My husband’s face EVER having the ability to light up after his 12 hour work day

·         Having one-on-one time with my husband that isn’t interrupted by a stomach ache or a child who claims her sister is killing her

·         Blow drying my hair (Impossible; again, see above bullet labeled “showering”)

 

                Alright, people. When are we going to stop trying to make everyone around us believe that we are perfect? It seems nearly impossible to get through my day without hearing someone tell me how incredibly wonderful and flawless her life is. However, I’ve found that if I give these blissful friends a few glasses of Chardonnay, the truth inevitably comes out. And that truth is as follows: Parenting is hard, marriage is harder, and neither one ever gets any easier. So why do we all feel the need to prove to others that we drift flawlessly through our days, organized and happy, carefree and feeling blessed? It’s time to cut the bullshit and be real.

                Although it may appear as though I’m stereotyping my own gender, women really are the ones who are guilty of these lies. I have attended countless play dates where I arrive at the home of another mother and enter a magical wonderland of spotless floors, fresh-baked oatmeal cookies, and well-behaved, clean children. However, I cannot place the blame on all other women, as I am extremely guilty of doing this myself. I rush around thirty minutes before a play date is scheduled, Febreezing the shit out of the living room, in hopes that it will no longer smell like dog hair and children. I gather everything that needs to be stored and organized and throw it in the garage. I tell my kids to put something on that doesn’t make them look homeless, and put a piece of gum in my mouth, hoping I can pass as a woman concerned with her own personal hygiene. I close the laundry room door, because I wouldn’t want anyone to think I had fallen behind on keeping our dresser drawers fully stocked. How would my play date friend react if she knew we had been living out of the dryer for the past three days? I then take out the pre-sliced,  fresh (kind of) fruit purchased from Target that morning, and dump it onto a platter I registered for when I got married, wiping the dust off with a paper towel which may or may not have already been used as a Kleenex. I find no need to change clothes, as I have already planned on telling my friend that I just returned from the gym, validating my disheveled appearance and yoga pants which are on their third day of wear. When the doorbell chimes, I answer with a smile on my face, inviting my perfect friend and her equally perfect child into my flawlessly clean house. The only props missing from my grand door opening are white doves magically appearing from behind me, flying gracefully into the air as I welcome my guests. For now, I have succeeded in making my guests believe that this is the way I live, in a Better Homes and Gardens, picture perfect world, filled with faultless children who voluntarily help me keep the house in this unblemished condition.  

                As the children play upstairs, my mother play date begins. We each talk about our husbands and how hard they work, and how good they are to us when they come home at the end of the day. We complain about them having to travel simply because we miss them so much when they’re gone. The conversation predictably moves onto our children, and how they eat six servings of vegetables per day, all the while reciting the spelling words they were assigned at school, which are of course a grade level ahead of where our children should be. Really, it’s a burden having such intelligent children, as it seems so unfair to the other kids in class. And of course, which sport should we choose for our future Olympic athletes? I mean, they are six years old after all. It is so important to know by this age which professional sports our children are going to excel in, since they are obviously fantastic in all of them.  It’s exhausting to have such talented children, and even more so to have such loving husbands who shower us with compliments and please us in the bedroom five to six times per week. But really, at the end of the day, we’re blessed to have these as our problems. We agree on this as we bid each other farewell at the end of our play date.

Does this sound familiar to you??

Raise your hand if you’re ready to hear the truth.

 

The Truth About Children

                I am in complete agreement with most every other mother out there who feels that her children are the most important beings in her life. I would throw myself in front of a bus to save the lives of any of my children, and I have a Mother Bear instinct that kicks in when someone treats my kids poorly. Mess with my kids, and I… will… cut… you. That being said…

                Kids are shit heads. Mine are shit heads, yours are shit heads, they are ALL SHIT HEADS. Kids talk back. Kids whine. Kids only catch stomach bugs at 3:00 in the morning, and only need to go to the bathroom when you’re five minutes late getting out the door. Kids are unappreciative, lazy, and messy. Kids will make you their bitch, and still cause you to feel as if you don’t do enough for them. Kids have the ability to make you feel more guilty than you ever have in your life, and will have you doubting your parenting abilities every second of the day, from the time they’re born until… well, I’m guessing until the time you die, although I don’t have personal experience with this yet. Kids will sit happily in silence until you make a phone call, at which point they will begin screaming and crying for absolutely no reason. Kids have invisible radars within them that send a signal to their brains whenever you want to sit down and eat for five minutes. At this point, they either need to poop or they break something made of glass, which is impossible to ignore since they ALWAYS step in the glass once it’s broken. Kids will make going out to dinner the most miserable experience of your life, and will turn you into a hermit all so you can avoid taking them out in public, as they will inevitably destroy something. Kids make it impossible to have an adult conversation in a public setting, for fear that your attention is actually being focused elsewhere. And most notably in my house, kids make you drink delicious red wine in vast amounts (or pop pills… your call).

                I’m sure that none of the aforementioned scenarios come as news to most of you. But I’m going to say something that most people are too scared to say:

It’s okay to be angry about all of these things.

                It’s okay to harbor resentment towards your children for causing you to have absolutely no social life of your own. It’s okay to daydream about life pre-kids, and ask yourself what life would have been like if you had just waited one more year to become a parent. It’s okay to sit at home on the phone with your mother, in tears over your child’s inability to eat anything but Goldfish. All of these feelings are normal, NONE of them make you a selfish person, and in reality, we wouldn’t feel this way if we didn’t give everything within ourselves to our children. However, knowing that we love our children doesn’t help these awful feelings go away. So what does? I have learned over the past few years that just knowing I am not the only person going through this hell actually makes me feel better. It’s not that I want other people to suffer; rather, I just feel like less of a failure as a mother if I know that others cry themselves to sleep at night, wondering when things are going to get easier, begging to be appreciated for all of the little things I do all day that go unnoticed.

                I started an experiment with several of my friends in recent years. Instead of portraying that I am the perfect mother, I have instead embraced the fact that my children are picky and needy and drive me insane. This has resulted in many different reactions from other parents. Some laugh, as if I’m joking. Some look at me in judgment, shocked that I could admit any feelings other than love and joy when speaking of my kids. And then there are my favorite people, the ones who sigh in relief and agree with me that being a parent can really SUCK ASS. Why are we so afraid to admit this? Are we afraid that people will think we take these feelings out on our children? It’s not as if I lock my kids in the dog kennel when they’re pissing me off, although I have seriously contemplated doing this in the past. My children really have no idea that I spend so much of my time feeling trapped and guilty, resentful and inadequate. And really, they should never know I feel this way, because it is not their fault. Instead of projecting my negative feelings onto my kids, I have instead decided to confide in my family, friends, and basically any stranger on the street who will listen. Not only does this keep me from screwing my children up mentally (therapy is expensive and I’m cheap), it also helps alleviate the pain I feel deep in my chest when I start wanting to scream. When other parents converse with me about their child rearing problems, it actually turns me into a better mother. I don’t get nearly as frustrated when my kids don’t eat, and I don’t want to pull my hair out when I find crayon markings all over my white walls. Kids are kids. Kids are asshole shit heads. Don’t judge. Yours are too.

 

The Truth about Marriage

                Oh, marriage. When my husband and I first got married, we swore we would be different than every other couple out there. Why? Because we weren’t just in love, we were BEST FRIENDS!! How could anything ever go wrong? What people don’t tell you when you get married is that you will not go to bed every night loving your spouse. In fact, there are many nights you will just sit in bed with a smile on your face, contemplating the different ways you could kill your husband and get away with it. For me, this didn’t really happen until we had kids.

                Once you and your spouse become parents together, life becomes a shit storm. People say that having a baby changes everything. This is true, but what they should say is that babies are cute and shit their pants, and life with your spouse becomes more difficult than you could ever imagine. My husband and I live the typical 1950’s lifestyle where he goes to work and brings in the dough, while I stay at home and raise the children. This plan has definitely been a positive one on many notes, as I have been able to take part in every little milestone my kids have experienced, and can relay all of the information to my husband via pictures, videos, and story-telling. This is what I have always wanted to do with my life, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. However, nobody told me that in becoming a stay at home mom, part of my job description would be “husband’s bitch.” I have become a laundress, a maid, a cook (debatable), a secretary, an accountant, and a glorified prostitute over the past several years (don’t judge, you have too!)  This might be fine if I didn’t spend all day doing these same things for my kids (minus the prostitution). At the end of the day, after the kids have been put into bed and you take a look at your destroyed house, the last thing you want to do is add another person onto the list of who you do things for. But there he is, your husband, your best friend turned boss, needing his dinner, asking about his dry cleaning, inquiring about the $100 you spent at Target that day. And that’s when you start to feel defensive. How come he didn’t notice that you mopped the floor? Why can’t he see that you used coupons galore at Target and that none of the items you purchased that day were for yourself, but for everyone else in your home? Just once, why can’t you walk downstairs after tucking the kids in to find your husband holding a glass of wine for you as he encourages you to take a seat on the couch and watch your soap opera while he cleans up the dinner mess? The answer to all of these questions is the same: BECAUSE HE DOESN’T GET IT AND HE NEVER WILL. Just like you don’t understand everything he accomplished at work that day, he will never understand all of the little things you have completed yourself. I have spent so much time resenting my husband for not recognizing that the full time job of being a parent is so much more demanding than a job which you can actually leave at the end of the day. What I didn’t understand is that husbands spends an awful lot of time resenting their housewives, as they believe we sit around all day gossiping with friends and hanging out at Starbucks (yes, I do that too… it’s called multi-tasking).

                After several years of competing with my husband over who had the more difficult job, we both became emotionally exhausted. Our friendship seemed to have completely disappeared, and we couldn’t look at each other with anything other than anger and resentment in our eyes. Although we did our very best to keep our struggles away from our children’s ever-observing eyes, our unhappiness was very apparent. He believed I was too easy on our kids, and I believed he was too strict. He thought I wasted too much money on things we didn’t need, and I felt he was too controlling over every penny I spent on our family. There seemed to be literally nothing we could agree upon when it came to parenting, or the way we lived our daily lives. We spent several nights in separate bedrooms, our stubborn attitudes blinding us from each other, each of us bound and determined to be validated in our feelings and emotions. In a last ditch effort, we attended couple’s counseling, hoping to resolve our issues and come to some sort of understanding as to how we had gotten to this point. Our counselor attempted to aid us in this, but nothing seemed to help. At one point, the counselor stated “When a couple comes in for counseling, I am not worried if they are angry with one another, because that means there are still feelings involved. I do become concerned when couples are indifferent, because this means they just don’t care anymore.” My heart sank. Indifferent was exactly how I felt. All seemed hopeless.

                One night, we were lying in bed, turned away from one another, and my husband quietly said something to me that I’m sure he had said before, but I had never really taken the time to hear.

“I remember when we were the best team ever.”

 

                My gut instinct was to snap back at him and blame him for causing our relationship to crumble, but at this point it would have been pointless. I had already said all of these things to him, and I didn’t have it in me to fight anymore. Instead, I not only listened to his words, but I HEARD his words, too.

                The next several days were different than they had been in years. I found the strength within me to let go of some of my defensiveness, and tried to convince myself that my relationship with my husband did not have to be one based on competition. When he arrived home from work, instead of being angry at him for not noticing all of the chores I had completed around the house and with the kids, I asked him how his day was. This took him by surprise, as he was not used to me caring about anything other than the negativity surrounding my own life. As the days continued, his defensiveness seemed to soften as well. We actually began engaging in civil conversation. The changes in both of our attitudes seemed to make everything a little easier. I stopped resenting him for coming home late, and began sympathizing with him over having to work such long hours in order to support our family. He started making a point of mentioning things I had accomplished throughout my day, and would even encourage me to sit down and relax a little while he put his own dinner together. It seemed unfathomable just days before, but we were actually starting to become friends again.

                It is my belief that most humans are inherently selfish, and worry about themselves more so than others. We teach our children to share and to be kind to others, but at some point we forget to do this ourselves. It is amazing to me the effect that showing just a small amount of appreciation toward my husband and him doing the same for me could change things so drastically. My husband and I were literally at the point of no return a year ago, yet we have recently become the team we were in the beginning. I have realized that, just like in any sporting event my professional athlete children will compete in someday, a win is not possible without the team coming together as a whole. Don’t get me wrong… my husband still pisses me off on a daily basis, just as I do him. BUT, now that we have realized that we are not out to destroy each other, things just seem to work better.

                My advice to all of you married couples with children is to stop trying to win. Stop trying to be perfect all the time and right all of the time. Instead, try being real. Understand that your children are going to drive you crazy, and you are going to hate your husband at some point in time. If you’re reading this and disagree with me, I suggest you and the three other people in the universe who feel as you do, start your own little book club and talk shit about me while you consume your Pinterest inspired snacks. Have a ball. For the rest of you, I beg you to realize that we are all going through the same thing, and that every day presents you with a new challenge which you can either fight or dominate. Reach out to your friends, as they are probably going through similar battles as well. And if you’re really feeling lost, try taking a nice, hot shower. I’ve heard that can help J