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     I am so proud of my children. I really do have the best kids anyone could want. Granted, there are some days I like them a bit more than others. But, all in all, they are pretty awesome. 
     Even having the best kids in the universe, it does not make this whole mom thing any easier. There are so many times I question everything I am doing, and to what extent I am screwing them up. I try so hard to do everything right, but it is just so damn hard. 


 
 
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     You know, it wasn't that long ago that I was a teenager. I remember how it was, even though you may not think I do. I remember how endless the school days were, which is why I am excited to hear about what you did, when you walk in the door. I know how annoying parents can be, so I realize why you roll your eyes behind my back. I even remember making that same semi-growling noise, when I didn't want to be bothered. Believe it or not, I remember exactly what it was like to be a teenager. It really wasn't so long ago, even though you may think we are so different and I don't understand you at all. 


 

My Confession

10/14/2014

 
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     I can't be the only one. I know I can't. Most moms have to feel the same way I do. Holy shit, can't I just get two minutes for myself. 
     Why is it so hard to find any time at all where little voices aren't yelling "mommy" or the husband isn't asking where something is. In truth, I believe I deal with it pretty well. I take it all in stride, and go with it...most of the time. But then, there are those moments. The ones where I am making the mental list of everything that I still  have left to do that day, dinner is burning, someone is tattling on another, and the husband feels the need to have some in depth discussion about something right at that very moment. I feel like my brain is going to bleed and all I want is quiet.  


 
 
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    There are many days I feel like I am being pulled in fifty different directions. I feel like I am completely falling apart in multiple facets of my life. I work harder at one thing, yet three others slip. I feel like I am doing a shitty job. I lay in bed at night feeling like a failure. I know that I am not alone in this feeling, because there are billions of other mommies in the world. It is our nature to feel like we are not good enough, even when we are perfectly adequate. 
     Middle child has therapy at our home twice a week. Now that it is summer, this is draining. It usually happens in early evening. This means an entire day of entertaining kids, cleaning house, mediating fights, spending time with the husband, dealing with an angst filled teen, and attempting to rationalize with middle and youngest. 


 
 
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     We have three kiddos and each one is a beautiful, individual spirit. They each have their own unique traits and quirks. They each also have their own diagnoses. 
     Oldest child was the most loving and happy baby you could ever imagine. He would be patient and play with Lego blocks while I cleaned the house. As he grew, he would do crafts and read endlessly. Somewhere around his fourth grade year, many things changed. Oldest had been a straight A student, his grades began to plummet. His attitude took a negative turn. The little boy who had previously been so friendly and outgoing turned mean and angry. I assumed it was part of him growing up.


 
 
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     Today oldest child turns fifteen. It is a difficult day for me. Each of his birthdays are hard. Because he is the oldest, he is the first to do everything. He was the first to take steps, the first to go to school, the first to become a teenager. Now, it is his fifteenth year on the earth. God, I am getting old. 
     He was a pain to give birth to. I won't go into horrid details, but the child owes me. I don't let him forget it either. He was a beautiful baby. Oldest was so quiet and never cried. He was always so peaceful and happy. Even as he got older, he never changed. He could make anyone smile no matter what sort of mood they were in. Now, youngest child is exactly like him. They are kindred spirits, and they are best friends, even with the age difference.