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     Marriage is hard work, right? Most married people will tell you that, time and time again. The thing is, I don't think it is all that hard, when you are with the right person. It's sort of like having a job you love. When you love that job, it isn't work. It's something you love to do. So, when you are with someone you adore, and you want to be with forever, it isn't work. It isn't 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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     There are days that I feel like I am always on the losing end of a constant battle with the kiddos. It started with time outs and escalated to taking toys now we take electronics. Then, oldest grew up. Now, we discuss consequences. However, since he is a teenager, he is never wrong...and since I am the parent I am always at fault. 
     When I became I parent, I always said I would never spank my children. I would never use phrases like "because I said so" or lie to them. I was so full of shit. My young, naive self had no idea that you do whatever it is that you need to, in order to make it through the day. There are three of them and one of me. They wear me down and then spring when they smell weakness. 


 
 
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    I remember a time when I lived alone, and I took it for granted. I was young and so oblivious to how fortunate I was. I could walk around naked and no one complained. There was no one to barge into the bathroom when I was peeing. I could sleep until noon and it didn't matter. I wasn't responsible for anyone but me. I kind of have roommates now, and they are awful. Times have changed.


 
 
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     Middle child repeats things. Not just once, but many, many times a day. To the point it would drive the sanest human mad in a matter of minutes. If I wasn't her mom, I don't think I could cope. Instead, I take a deep breath and I answer her same question for the fourteenth time by ten in the morning. I smile to myself, and I realize I am lucky to have such an amazing and intelligent little being in my life. 


 
 
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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.


 
 
     It was a rough start making it out the door the day we were leaving to go to West Virginia. Really, really rough. To the point I cried. In the end, it was worth it. Our weekend was amazing. I never in a million years would have thought I would have said that, but I am. We survived camping an entire weekend with three children, and HAD FUN.