It is ok

I had a wonderful Christmas.  Like, really wonderful, regardless of Mason getting up at 6am.  Him is a big boy now.  In exchange for gifts, he left HoHo his NaNa (paci).  We were really good about nipping it in the butt with Alyvia, but everything has been a little more difficult with him.  Three successful nights later, I think he will be just fine.

Alyvia was ecstatic about every single thing she got.  In the midst of her attitude lately, she really is one of the most grateful kids I know.  She makes it a point to tell me she loves me, thank you for everything (from helping her button her coat to her new Nabi, to toasting her a waffle).  I hope she keeps that trait of gratefulness.

We were able to make it to both sides of our families to celebrate.  Thank goodness I felt well enough most of the day because it made my heart full.  Our house is currently (still) a disaster and I am totally ok with it.

You may wonder why I am so happy about this holiday.  You may wonder why I am pointlessly describing our day.  You may wonder why I am so happy with the outcome.

I typically have a very, very hard time with the aftermath.  Pretending to be in a good state with family members for a few hours, then going home to remember that I am not.  That it was a front, that I am still so damned angry and bitter about the way I have been treated.  But this year, without me expecting it to be, it was different.

I have learned, it is okay.

It is ok to be angry about being treated unfairly at times, about being put on the backburner for years for what it seems like;

It is ok to not agree on a certain person’s lifestyle and how it seems as if life is always messy for them, and wish with all your heart that they would just settle down for a while;

It is ok to be hurt, and sad, and pray so hard that one day you will get a phone call, or a knock at the door, with a pleading apology, and real changes;

It is ok to be all these things, but still love.  Love all those people that have hurt you, betrayed you, made you cry.

They may not ever know the extent of the heavy burden you carry, they will never have to carry it.  But as long as you love, especially in front of your own children, eventually that pain subsides, little by little, and you are able to hug goodbye and feel full instead of still angry.  In all reality, staying angry only hurts yourself in the long run. 

So, just learn to love, despite what hurts.  Love can move mountains.

XO

Letting it be

Here we are, 9 weeks pregnant with our third and final baby, and I still don't know.  I don't know if I will ever get a grip on being a parent.  What's right, wrong, what's being too hard, or not strict enough.  How to build up self esteem in my 4 year old daughter when I have none of my own.  How to teach Mason to be a gentleman, to love with his whole heart, when I have never really seen a man do it himself when I was a child either.

I yell. A lot.  Three times of repeating myself, and I am ready to swing through the house with a wrecking ball because I am so pissed off.  I expect immediate satisfaction, even though I know that is not realistic with two kids under five.

Every night this week, A has spilt her juice from her "big girl cup" and with each passing day, I get more and more angry when she does it again.  When it occured last night, she looked at me with fear in her eyes, and quickly said "It's just a drop, Mommy."  No, it wasn't just a drop, it was about ten, but she tried to hard to not disappoint me by cleaning it up quickly.  It broke my heart.  Yet deep down, I was still angry.

Every night this week, I am exahausted and just want Mason so much to sit and relax with me when that clock hits 7:00PM.  He doesn't sit still.  I know this.  But can't he do it this one night?  Doesn't he get that some nights, I just can't do anything more but sit and watch a movie, justifying that as "quality time".

And when I am approaching my fourth request, for someone, anyone to just listen, I blow a fuse.  And to be honest with you, as much as it makes me cringe to say this, it comes naturally.  There was a lot, a LOT of yelling, hateful words thrown around when I was young.  I felt as if I was never being listened to, my needs were never taken into complete consideration.  And with much regret, I have carried that anger and fuse into a stage in my life where I get to be mom.  There are so many days when I feel as if I am just doing a terrible job.  I blame a lot of things.  I try to pinpoint why I react the way I do and why I still let my emotions get the best of me.

I read a blog today that made me cry.  Not a "this is so sweet" type of cry.  It hit me like a ton of bricks.  If I want to give the best to my kids, I need to stop being my own bully.  Stop allowing these past experiences drive my frustration to a level where my kids are effected.  Stop letting messes, and homework, and an extra minute playing ruin my mood.  STOP.  Stop being my own worst critic, stop striving for perfection, stop second guessing every decision I make.  Learn to let things be, love myself a little more.

Three babies later, maybe I'll get it.

Guilt.

So.
We're pregnant with our third and we are thrilled.  No it wasn't exactly "planned", but lets be honest, for someone who freaks out when a daily plan is ruined, Devon and I have never been the greatest big life event planners.  But we make it work.  We are happy. And that's all that matters.

It's Christmas time, and I am typcially the one who has the holiday tunes blarin' every day and making some kind of craft or treat every week.  This was the year the kids were old enough to get into "Elf on the Shelf", help me be the holiday crazy I love to be in.

I can't.  This pregnancy is draining me.  I haven't made one craft with them, I haven't made one holiday treat.  I DID help them decorate the tree.  But I haven't even bought the damn Elf on the Shelf dude.  I have no energy for it.  I spent Saturday and Sunday morning slouched over the toilet, and am in bed by 8:30 (7:30 last night), leaving the dirty laundry and dishes piled.  The kids are lucky to get a bath (and I usually stick them in the shower with their dad).  I thankfully felt well enough (after a morning spent barfing) to go on the Santa Train with the kids, Dev and his parents yesterday.  I am so glad.  They had so much fun...and I know it meant the world to them that I was there.  The holidays are all about creating forever memories.  That being said,  I sure hope I start feeling better soon.  They deserve it.