The one thing that I am exceptionally good at is producing very head strong offspring. The one thing I really had to work at was learning to parent them. Each one seems to be more difficult than the last. Some days are much easier than others, but in the end I know that I am sending very unique and individual children into the world. It is just getting them there that proves to be difficult. 

 
 
     I can feel that day looming on the horizon. Every day, it seems to inch closer and closer, and there is not a thing I can do about it. The other night, I was laying in bed doing my nails. The light was off, but I had the bedside lamp on, which is typically more than enough light. My husband and I began debating something that required me to read the back of the nail polish bottle. It was that moment I realized I had the eyes of someone who is middle aged. I blinked a few times, squinted a little, I even moved the bottle closer to my face. It was all in vain. I couldn't read the damn white print. I was convinced the issue was the bottle until I turned on the light and the words magically appeared on the bottle. Every day, I get one day closer to being thirty seven years old. It is happening and I can't change it. 

 
 
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     After three children, volumes of parenting books, and two mother in laws I could probably write my own book on raising children. Instead, I can make it pretty simple. Laugh. 
     In our tiny, crazy family of five, things are not always ideal. The kids bicker and fight. There are days the hubby and I barely talk even though we both work at home. We have bills and payments just like every other middle American family. There are days that it is actually really, really hard to keep it together. Even on those days, we laugh. 


 
 
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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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     I remember when I was young, standing in front of my mom’s vanity. I would hold up her jewelry to my neck and ears. When she allowed, I would put on a bit of blush or lipstick. I was in awe of my mother, she was beautiful. My mother worked all of the time, but she still took care of my brothers and me. In total, there were four of us. I was the only girl and the oldest. My mom made everything look so effortless. From making us a hot breakfast each day to always looking beautiful for my dad. I wanted to be my mom. 


 
 
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     For a month now, I have been in search for the perfect underwear. I wanted minions, but they were nowhere to be found. I settled on Spiderman and Batman. Not for me of course, but because youngest is ditching diapers. Well, that was my plan. He had other thoughts on the subject. 


 
 
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     Each day I am so thankful that my children and husband have incredibly low standards. I really believe this is the only reason I am still around. I truly think that the reason my kids insist I am the best mom in this world is because they have nothing to really compare it to. If they ever watched The Brady Bunch, I would be screwed.
     I see these other moms, with their homemade, pre-digested toddler snacks and biodegradable yoga pants. I feel like a failure. My kids drop an Oreo on the floor, I brush it off and hand it back to them so I don't have to listen to the whining because it is the last one. Why is it so easy for other parents? Why can they do it all and I am barely holding it together? 


 

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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     In most two parent households, one parent is the good guy while the other is the bad one. In the kid's eyes, there is one adult that allows them to get away with everything while the other is the rule maker. In our home, I am the bad guy. I can't stand it. 


 
 
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     The first time I saw her I fell in love all over again. I knew the feeling because of oldest child, and I didn't think my heart could possibly hold anymore love. It could, and it did. When I met her she was absolutely beautiful and she still is. 
     Middle child is the exact opposite of me. I am a tomboy and she is the epitome of a girly girl. She loves nail polish and makeup. Her favorite color is pink and she adores anything with glitter. I like understated beauty and glitter makes me itch. Raising middle child is a challenge.