I hate being a mom.

I'll admit it. And millions will judge me. Well, that's funny because most likely very few will read this. But those that do will judge me. CPS could possibly be knocking at my door very soon. And that would really be unnecessary because although I hate being a mom, I also like being a mom, and at times I even love it. But today, right here, right now, in my honest heart of hearts, I hate it. I hate that after working a long. ass. day, I have to go pick up my daughter from preschool only to get a bad report (for the 2nd time this week) that my child is really having a difficult time listening and doing what she's told. She just wants to talk to her friends and play and not stand in line and not eat her lunch and ask her teacher the same questions over and over and over again because she thinks maybe the next time they won't say "no." And after listening to the report (that kind of makes me giggle inside a tiny bit because I was that same damn kid), I walk with my child hand in hand, carrying her LOADS of stuff outside to the car where I spend the next 10 minutes telling my kid to "follow me, hold my hand, don't go that way, our car is over here, you're going to get hit by a car, please hold my hand, don't pick up whatever that piece of filth is off the ground, please don't touch those plants, pay attention, stop letting go of my hand!" Then I open the door and spend the next 2-3 minutes coaxing her to actually get in the car. Lately this does the trick: "do you want to get in the car all by yourself or do you want me to put you in the car?" Her three year old "I DO EVERYTHING ALL BY MYSELF I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP" pride kicks in and so she climbs up in her carseat. But the feat isn't over. She must fasten the buckle, and demand the air conditioner NOT be pointed at her (even though it's 110 degrees in the car). Then demand for her window to be open. Again, in the 110 degree weather. And then, we spend the ten minute long car ride home discussing whatever she might want to tell me about the day. It usually sounds like this: "Mama, I got put in time out, mama. I wasn't listening, mama. My friend Kamryn hit her friend and that was not berry nice, mama. Mama, Miss Jenny put Kamryn on a break, mama." Cute right? Until every. single. sentence. for a full 10 minutes starts and ends with the word "mama." And every word demands my full attention. Not to mention the fifteen times she says "mama, wook at me, mama" fully expecting me to turn around while driving to watch her make a face or say one thing or demand another. And the offense she feels when I tell her for the fifteenth time "I can't look at you baby girl, I have to drive the car." Then we get home. Then... yep, you guessed it, the coaxing begins to now get her OUT of the car, and to walk down the path and up the stairs to our condo. I'll save you what that 5-7 minutes sounds and looks like because it's very similar to the walk from preschool to the car. Forehead: meet the wall. Over, and over, and over... And FML too. What should take no more than 14 minutes from start to finish (including 10 minutes of drive time) takes double that time, filled with frustration and annoyance. While the other folks without kids leave the building, start their cars right up and drive away. Must be nice.

Let me interject for a moment. I can hear you readers. Some of you anyway, (most likely without children), thinking one of a few things:

Judgy person number one might be thinking something like "oh hell no, if my kid ever acted like that I'd do _______ to him/her."

Judgy person number two might be thinking "is she seriously complaining about this? I CAN'T HAVE CHILDREN! She has no clue how lucky she is."

Judgy person number three might be thinking something like "if this is her biggest problem in life, then she needs to get a life."

And all three judgy people would have a point. And I can't fault these imaginary judgy people for thinking or feeling this way because they aren't me, they don't have my life, and they don't have my child. They cannot begin to understand what a day in my shoes is like, and for that, let's just say ignorance is bliss.

To continue here, let me just start by saying that after working a nine hour day, the scene above has only accounted for about 30 minutes of the rest of my evening. I still have to battle dinner, bath time, pajamas, teeth brushing, and bed. Plus EVERYTHING in between. As I type this, she is playing with her stuffed animals and trying to stuff them in my bra. Dead serious. And the messes. The constant cleaning up of all messes. And the laundry. And I'M STARTING NURSING SCHOOL, PEOPLE. I think I'm setting myself up for *another* nervous breakdown...

Having a child is exhausting. I mean, your head hits the pillow at night and you're so tired you can't even sleep, exhausting. And you know why you can't sleep? Because you lay down and you worry. You fret. You fear for your child's future, and you question yourself, and you feel guilty about your parenting. And you feel guilty while watching them sleep so sweetly and so soundly that you hated being their mom today. That they made you so angry that you yelled at them, or lost your patience with them, or that you wanted to run away and never come back. Or lock yourself in the closet and cry until the tears ran dry. And you cry. You cry because you miss the days when they weren't around. You miss the days when you could spend your weekends on the couch watching grown up shows. You feel guilty for choosing to write a blog instead of spending quality time with them. You find yourself increasingly jealous of your friends who don't have kids who can do anything they want any time because they're free from the burden and responsibilities of children. And you feel guilty for thinking of your child as a burden. But honestly, they rely on you for their very being. They wouldn't eat, or have shelter, or have their thousands of needs met every single day without you. Before I had my child, I was struggling to meet my own needs every day. Now I'm meeting someone else's. I have to be ALL things to this child at ALL times. Someone who is innocent and pure and filled with awe and wonder and unconditional love for me. And sometimes I hate being her mom. How terrible, right? BUT IT'S TRUE.

I'm tired. I'm 30 and I feel 65 because I'm exhausted. I'm depressed. I'm anxious. I'm a mess. And sometimes I don't want to do it anymore. But I know there's no other choice. And I know this is a season. And seasons change. But I would be lying if I said I don't feel like I'm running 60 mph in a hamster wheel that is getting me no where. And my story is different because I am a single mom, and I don't have the help of a significant other. And I don't get a break very often. Rarely, actually. I do have my family and friends, however. And without them, I don't even want to imagine.... I can't begin to imagine how this would feel or what this blog would sound like. I know there are so many more moms who have it worse. I know people exist that have such bigger worries and concerns for their children. For God's sake, my child is healthy. I get it. But you know what, it doesn't make my pain any less. It doesn't take away from my struggle. It doesn't make my day to day any easier. It doesn't make the responsibility any less. It doesn't make it any less real that I alone am responsible for raising this child up right and having to put in the real hard time and effort to do so. It doesn't take any pressure off my shoulders at all. I cry with you moms whose children are sick. And my heart groans for the parents who have lost children or can't have children. I shake my fists at God with you! And to the expecting moms, or the not-yet-moms, don't let this blog scare you or discourage you, because if there's one thing I CAN say, it's that it's worth it. It's hard. It's so. damn. hard. But NOTHING in life that is easy is worth anything. The harder the struggle, the bigger the reward. That's been the truth for all the struggles in my life thus far, anyway. And I LOVE my child. I love her with every fiber of my being. She's why I do this. Day in and day out. SHE is worth it. And there are the sweetest most tender moments between her and me that make all of this other stuff disappear. It vanishes in those moments. And those moments give me the push I need to keep going until the next one.

And so here's what I don't want. I don't want parental advice. Seriously, I will punch you. I don't want to hear the way you have managed to have or raise 15 perfect children with your tried and true process. I don't want to hear it. I pick my battles and let others slide because I KNOW my kid. You don't. I don't want advice on how to FIX my situation. There's no fixing this. Only going through it. I don't want ANYONE diagnosing my kid with anything based on one example of a tough day. She's 3. That's her diagnoses. My only hope for this blog, and really the only reason I'm choosing to actually share it (I don't share many of my blog posts), is because if there is at least ONE other mom in the world who feels this way and thinks she's alone, I want her to know she's not. I want her to know I'm here. I'm doing it too. I love my kid and sometimes I hate being a mom, all at the same time.

I know it's been a long time since I've blogged. Like I said... I struggle with consistency. I feel guilty because I haven't documented so much of Zoe. Man, she's amazing. Her personality is really coming out. Feisty. Stubborn. Funny. That about sums it up. She's 11 months old. Where does the time go?! She's crawling and pulling herself up on everything. She's so curious; exploring the world around her with such wonder and awe. She's saying words. Mainly "wassat (what's that)?!" "Coco (Jodi's dog)," "Hi," and "Mama." She's waving hi and bye. And she's getting into everything. I swear every time I clean up one of her messes she's got another one in the works. She gives me a run for my money and she's not even walking yet. It's so beautifully exhausting. Lately, at night, she only wants Mama to hold her. No one else allowed. I'm not gonna lie. I LOVE that. There's nothing like feeling needed and wanted by someone who loves so innocently and unconditionally. With everyday that passes, I love her more than I did the day before. My heart just swells.

So here's what we've been up to lately:

We swim.

We feed ourselves (with 5 teeth).

We feed ourselves rocks.

We climb stairs.

We act like a dog.

We help Grampy work.

We hang out naked.

We get stuck in chairs.

We crinkle our nose.

And many, many, many other shennanigans...

Despite all the struggles, I look at this little girl and can't help but think life is wonderful.

I hate this struggle...

I don't talk about this struggle publicly very often. I carry a lot of shame, embarrassment, and guilt on my shoulders because of this struggle. My closest and dearest friends know about half of how I really feel concerning this. Although it's obvious to everyone that I struggle with this, my emotions, feelings, and concerns about it are often locked away in the deepest, darkest parts of me. I saw something today (on television) that both inspired and saddened me. I watched the journey of a young woman who lost a significant amount of weight in a short amount of time. I was so inspired by her strength to acknowledge her struggle, face it dead on, take victory over it, and then shine a light on it by making it public. I was saddened firstly because I related with her on every level of her own struggle, but also because I'm exhausted. This battle with my weight has been apart of me as far back as I can remember. At the age of 6 is when I became what one would classify as "overweight." Ever sine then, the struggle and weight gain has gotten worse and worse.

I learned how to medicate myself with food at a very young age. My mom always had issues with food and body image. Looking good has always been at the top of her priority list. My grandmother was the only other female influence in my life, and her issues with food were opposite my mother's. My mom obsessed about restricting food intake while my grandmother overate. I learned how to overeat and over-enjoy food. I obsessed about it at a young age. Always wondering when the next opportunity to eat would be, and what we would be eating. I can recall, even at a very young age, my mother's disapproval of this behavior. I had no idea at the time what a hold food had over me, and I had no idea the pain it would cause me in the future.

I believe that who we are is often a result of the things that have happened to us in our past. What we go through as individuals shapes us into the people we become. However, I do not believe in continuing to live with a "victim mentality." There comes a point when we have to take responsibility for who we are- that includes the bad parts of us. Then we can either accept those things or change them. I don't blame my parents or grandparents or my pregnancy or even God for my struggle. All of these things are factors, and they have their roles in my struggle, but I'm where I am today ultimately because of my own choices. That's where the shame comes in.

Food is my drug. It's my vice. It's my best friend and worst enemy. It has more power and control over me than I care to admit. Nothing in my life has EVER made me feel more powerless or more like a failure than my addiction to food. It's like being bound from head to toe on a bed by a rope and being left there to die. DAILY, I struggle and I struggle and I fight and I claw and I kick and I scream and I flail about nearly passing out in an attempt to break free from this hold. And every single time I end up surrendering to the rope. I can't break free. The rope is too tight. I'm exhausted, I'm worn, and I don't have another breath in me to even lift a finger in the attempt to break loose. I can't. I just can't. And guess who tied that rope around me? I did. It sounds like pure foolishness. Why would anyone in their right mind ever do such a thing to themselves? It's embarrassing. It's shameful. It's MY struggle and I hate it. I can hear you (whoever you might be) saying to yourself "but didn't she have weight loss surgery?" Yes. I did. I had the lap-band in 2008. I lost 120 pounds and it was the best time of my life. Ever. I got pregnant and with a temporary reversal to allow the baby to get proper nutrients, I gained 90 of it back. Now I'm down 20, so I have 70 to lose to get back to where I was, and another 30 to get to my ultimate goal. See, the thing is that the numbers don't matter. They do, simply as a way to gage exactly how out of control my problem is, and to classify me as overweight, obese, morbidly obese, healthy, or unhealthy, etc. But the truth is that even after losing 120 pounds, the struggle in my mind never left. I was never happy. I looked better. I felt better. But it wasn't enough. In photos I still disgusted myself. I still looked nothing like all my beautifully thin friends. In dating (online) I was still terrified that I would meet someone in person and they would be highly disappointed with my appearance and have no further interest. I've learned how to be funny and outgoing and have a personality that shines to overcompensate for the unattractive nature of my physical appearance. I take pride in those things. They ARE me- fat or skinny, those things remain. So does the fact that I'm smart, compassionate, caring, kind, sincere, good at communicating, talented, etc. But all of those things take time to discover. Unravel me like a ball of yarn, and I promise you will see nothing but beauty along the way and at my core. This I know. But time after time after time those things miss an opportunity to be revealed because the truth is, few people (and let's be honest and say that I'm primarily talking about men here) look at the "fat girl" and say to themselves "I REALLY want to get to know her." And I can't blame them. I really can't. There comes a point in the dating world when you know what you want. You know what you're looking for and what you're not. Most men don't want a fat girl. I don't necessarily want a fat guy. And that's totally understandable and acceptable. Which is another reason why I HATE THAT I HAVE THIS STRUGGLE!!! It's a wall between me and the world. It keeps me from people, it keeps me from my dreams and goals, and most importantly it keeps me from loving myself completely. So I'm stuck here in this horribly painful and uncomfortable place. I'm not going to be a victim. I can't accept myself as I am and stay this way, and I'm trying to change, but it's a lonely struggle that I will most likely have the rest of my life. So I'm disgusted, ashamed, embarrassed, and guilty. I wish who I was on the inside could be the first thing people see- minus all the self loathing, pity, and insecurity. And what kind of example am I to an innocent little girl? I don't want my daughter to follow in my footsteps. Lord, help us all. Seriously.

This is all I have in me tonight. More later...

Rainbows and Darkness

I drove to work today in silence. The streets were wet, and the sun was hidden by a heavy darkness that covered the city. I knew this day would come and go just like it has every year for the last 13 years. This year was different, though. I felt such a sadness and a heaviness in my heart that had managed to escape me in previous years. I thought to myself, "Why today? Why now? It's been 13 years." I drove and I cried. I remembered how tragic this day was 13 years ago. To be 15 years old and have your mom tell you that you should really sit down because she has some bad news. I remember it like it was yesterday. I already knew the news. It was strange. So very strange, but I knew. I knew my dad had died, and that he had taken his own life. To hear her words was just confirmation of what my heart had already somehow figured out. It's the most bizarre feeling in the world - one day someone you love is alive and well. You can talk to them, touch them, feel their hair in your fingers and the warmth of their skin. The next minute, they're gone. Forever. How does one even begin to process that? Especially as a 15 year old girl. That day forever changed me as a person. In many ways I'm better, stronger, more compassionate and understanding. But today I felt like that 15 year old girl all over again. Vulnerable and broken. And I kept trying to figure out why. I've been able to successfully remove myself further and further from that day and that situation with every year that's passed. It often doesn't feel like it happened to me. When I think about it, it's like watching a movie of someone else's life. So why on earth was today so different?

Then I thought about Zoe, and how in 5 short months she has managed to steal my heart and completely captivate every part of me. And while it made me sad to think that my dad (and grandma) will never meet her, I realized what was so different about today. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I thought of her dad. My dad and her dad, and the realization that people have an incredibly hurtful power: to leave. Both of those men chose to remove themselves from my life. One by taking his own life, and the other by simply turning his back and walking away. Death is so powerful in its' own right. It's an unwanted separation. And although the willful ending of a relationship (either by the choice of one partner or both) is not a death, it sure can feel like one. I loved Chris. I wasn't ready to say goodbye. He made that choice for me. My dad took himself away from me. I had no choice in that either. And, oh, my heart just breaks all over again at the thought. I can even look back at both situations and have justified reasons for why it's best for both people to be gone, yet I'm still overwhelmed by the thought (and fear) that a person can grab ahold of your heart, cause you to love with such fullness, and then leave. Just like that. With no warning, and sometimes with seemingly no care or concern for your feelings or well being. Wow. What a gift and a responsibility love is. Sometimes we can be so careless with the hearts of others, and our own as well.

I continue my silent drive to the office and through the cold tears, a grin forms on my face. I see a rainbow that starts at one end of the valley and stretches itself clear to the other side. And I think to myself, "Of course." If there's one thing that love, loss, pain, and grief has taught me, it's that if you look hard enough, you really can always see a rainbow. So cheesy and cliche, I know, but it has proven itself to be true in my life over and over again.

I'm remembering you today, dad. And everything you taught me in your life and in your death.

Who am I?

As I've been working on (procrastinating) updating my blog, Jodi Packe, my friend and Zoe's babysitter posts this on my facebook wall today:

http://www.graceisforsinners.com/life/what-falling-away-means/

And here's my reaction:

YESSSSSS!!!! This is it. This is what I've been waiting for. Three words came to me after reading this. "Who." "Am." " I?" 1. Who am I to think that my decisions, choices, mistakes, etc. could interfere with the ultimate plan of the God of the universe? I mean really. I need to get over myself. 2. I questioned God about His decision to harden Pharaoh's heart many years ago. His response to me came in the form of a scripture in Romans (which one, I can't recall) and went something like this: "I'm God. I do what I feel I need to do for MY glory and to SAVE you and people just like you. The end." Not to say I think He's hardened my heart. Maybe He has. Maybe He hasn't. But maybe He's let it REMAIN hardened for an ultimately greater purpose. I don't know. Either way, it doesn't really freaking matter because He's got this. All of it. He's taught me SO much about seasons. Seasons. Seasons. SEASONS. They change, they come, they go. Nothing remains the same, ever. Except His love for me. Last Sunday (not yesterday, the one before) He reminded me of His love for me. He stirred my heart. As if to say, "I am not like all your previous lovers. Or even lovers to come. My love for you remains. My love for you will never take you and use you for all you're worth only to leave you and abandon you. Your last lover left you and his own flesh and blood, of his own volition. I will not. Nor will my love pass over Zoe. She will never be without this Holy Love or without a Father." So maybe this is a season of hardening? How quickly and easily I forgot that I am that ONE sheep He would drop everything for to bring me back to HIS flock. And here's the kicker... How blessed am I to be one of the few that would KNOW HIS VOICE??? Once you've heard that voice... once you KNOW that Shepherd...you never forget. You can't un-know what's already been known! So I'll be over here, Lord. Doing what I'm doing. Running myself ragged. Spinning in this hampster wheel over and over and over again...until my hands are stained red, filthy, dirty, worn, beaten, bruised, stenched, disgusting, and rotten. Prepare my heart. Open my ears to hear You calling. I might decide I still want to play in this muddy grass over here for a little while longer, but I won't forget Your voice. I won't forget YOU. You haven't forgotten me. And still... I can't help but think, who the hell am I? Wow. Who feels humbled and free today? Like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders? This girl. Thank you my sweet, sweet Jodi.

Dear Zoe...

PLEASE GO TO SLEEP!!!

Today I drove 40 minutes to take you to the babysitter. When I got there I realized that I never strapped your car seat in. Thank God we didn't get in an accident. Then, later in the afternoon at work, I realized I was wearing two different shoes. No joke. Then on the way home, I strapped your car seat in, but I didn't strap YOU into the car seat!!!! And do you want to know why I did all these ridiculous things today?

Because you keep me up all night!!!! :) I am SO tired that I am not thinking straight!

Then, on the way home, our 40 minute drive turned into an hour and 40 minutes because of an accident on the freeway. We were stopped and waiting for a very long time. You were hungry and screaming. Eventually I couldn't take it anymore so I pulled over to the side of the freeway, took you out of your car seat and nursed you right then and there! You should have seen the looks I got! I was nearly causing another accident! Now you can't ever say I'm a bad mom. :)

You are THREE months old now!!! You have changed so much just this last WEEK. You are SO alert and very smart. You are a momma's girl, BIG TIME, and I love it. Sometimes you cry just because you don't want anyone to hold you other than me. This week you have taken a liking to the binky. YAY! It makes soothing you just a little bit easier. I know it's going to be difficult to break the habit, but for now, it works for both of us. You talk to me a lot. You love smiling and you actually laughed out loud for the first time a few weeks ago!!! I cried. It was the most beautiful and amazing thing I'd ever heard. You haven't done it since though. Little stinker.

My love for you grows every single day. Just when I think my heart is filled to capacity, it expands! I love you my little monkey.

Dear Zoe...

You are already 2 months old! I cannot believe how much you are changing. You're smiling at me all the time now. You coo and wiggle your arms and legs around constantly. You're developing quite a personality already. Today, for instance, you were so fun and sweet and cute. Yesterday you were PISSY! :)You prefer to be held while the person holding you is standing up and bouncing. If we sit down, you cry. Your best time of day is first thing in the morning. As soon as you wake up, you will sit with me for an hour or so and just smile and talk. It's my favorite time of day with you. The last 4 or 5 nights you have slept through the night, going to sleep at around 8pm and waking up at 6am. I'm hoping this sticks because I have to go back to work in a few days. I am NOT happy about this. It makes me want to cry just thinking about being away from you the majority of the day. I'm leaving you in good hands and I plan to make every minute that I do have with you count. You are getting SO cute. Everyone says so. You have been referred to as the "Gerber Baby" on many occasions already. You do this pouty lip thing lately that breaks my heart. If you did that and asked for ______, I'd give it to you. Here's a picture of you doing this. It's fitting that we happened to be on the way to get your first round of shots...



You light me up. Your smiles and cries make me feel emotions I never knew I had. You are so beautiful. And you're stubborn and strong willed already. You refuse to nap during the day. 15-20 minute cat naps at a time are all I can get out of you. I let it slide, however, because you sleep through the night. :) You get SO tired and you just refuse to sleep. You fight it til the end! Finally, when you lose your will, you snuggle your little head on my shoulder, rub your face all over my shirt, cuddle, and eventually close your eyes and sleep. I hope you will always cuddle with me that way. It is truly THE best thing ever. Oh, and if I didn't mention it before: you HATE your car seat!!! You scream bloody murder the WHOLE time you're in the car. The second I take you out, you stop. I don't get it. People tell me you will grow out of this. I hope quickly because it is heartbreaking for me to see you so upset every time we go anywhere.

Here are some photos of my 2 month old little monkey!:






I could post and look at pictures of you ALL DAY!!!