No name

I can't title a post that I don't know how to begin. I've been stirring over posting about this topic all day today but while I was playing at the park with my little ones today, I knew I needed to write about it..

Today was a good day in my house. I was tired from helping a friend until 3:30 am, and of course Wes woke up st 5:30 am because he's really miserable with a little virus, but over all, it's was a good day! We woke up, ate breakfast together, lounged and watched cartoons, played monster trucks, read books. Daddy was home and playing too. If was a good day! The boys napped and we went to the park after that.

It was beautiful outside and my little ones were running and giggling, despite not feeling great. Weston chased after me, raced with his brother and Dad, and the smiles on their faces melted my heart. I didn't bring my phone with me to check social media or the most recent text. I was just present in that moment with my husband and sons. I wasn't sitting on the sideline on the bench (not that I judge the moms that do that, because girl, I GET IT! The struggle is real) but I was playing with them. We were together. It was perfect. 

I felt very lucky.. And I couldn't help but think about the recent attacks on Paris... And then grief struck me. Again. Just like it has this whole weekend.

I am not a political person. I am the first to admit politics intimidate me. I have very strong conservative and liberal views, so often times I don't feel like I have a place I belong in the political discussion world.  Many of my thoughts seem to be ignorant in my opinion, and selfish. I tend to not share those embarrassing opinions with others. I tend not to discuss politics often because I am not educated enough to fully discuss them appropriately.

So that isn't what this post is about. This post isn't about politics. It's about humanity. 

I grieve for those who lost their lives during the attacks the other night. I grieve for those who have been targets of terrorism and extremists in general. It's sickening and saddening to know that my sweet babies that were playing SO innocently at the park today are obligated to grow up in this world with monsters. And as their Mom, I have to protect them... Somehow...?

I have no control. That scares me. Terrifies me.

I could be at a park with my child, and an extremist that believes whole heartedly that me and my children should die because we don't believe the same thing as him, or because a book tells him to, is terrifying to me. And there is absolutely nothing I can do to prevent that. I cannot change the mindset of another. So how do we cope with this as a parent?

This isn't just about terrorism. This could be about rapists and kidnappers or child molesters. The bottom line is: HOW do we protect our children? How can we prepare ourselves? Are we always armed for battle? Are we always on alert? What do we do when we are taken by surprise and have to spring into action? 

I have no answers for these hypothetical questions.... But I think of them often. 

You know, I changed my profile picture to the color of The French flag. Red white and blue. Someone said that meant I was condoning war and supporting it and all the fury it brings. 

Well let me respond to that...

1. I am supporting and grieving for the people that lost loved ones. Acknowledging their loss is hardly supporting war.

2. I support whatever a country feels like it needs to do to protect its citizens. If that means war, or closing boarders, I support that.

3. At the end of the day, we are all humans sharing this earth together. Many of us are parents trying to make this place a beautiful world for our children to live in. I want my children to know that I am sympathetic and I want to model and I want them to witness that I am empathetic to those in need. So changing my fucking Facebook picture to a matte color of red white and blue doesn't mean I support war. It means I acknowledge how inhumane others can be.... I acknowledge how cruel people can be. It am hurting for that country. I hurt for our country because we are FOOLISH to think we can't be next.

So maybe you should get off your soap box and rather than talk shit and start a debate, you should try to come together with your community, this world, to make it a better place. One day when you become a parent, you will see this world in the eyes of a child and soon you will see the foundation of humanity and how we all need to stick together in a time of crisis, regardless of culture.

Anyway...

I know this post is all over the place. I know that my political opinion in this situation hardly comes into play in this post... But I just needed to write. I needed to write about how blessed I felt today to have my boys with me. How lucky I am to feel baby Katelyn kick me today. How happy I am to be a part of the community I live in. How extremely blessed I am for my family and friends.... But not a moment has gone by that I haven't grieved for the lost lives of others from these terrorist attacks this weekend. 

I don't know how to prepare or how to stop it... So all I can do is my best. I will love my children. I will embrace my moments with them - the good, bad, and ugly. I will continue to model empathy for others so my boys grow up and hopefully act the same. I want them knowing and believing in the good in other people. 

So today, I am lucky. I am lucky. 

The 1950's Housewife

Disclaimer: I am not throwing my husband under the bus in my posts. I speak the truth. I love you, babe!
Disclaimer 2: Excuse my foul language in my blog posts. When I write, I just type what I think and feel. I promise I speak much more proper than this in real life. I think.

In the 1950's, the men would go to work and the women would stay home and tend to the babies and children. The women would be expected to do every bit of womanly housework. Hand washing dishes, washing the laundry - which was extremely tedious back then. Shit. My family would be naked all the time if we lived back in the 50's.... I mean, what wife had the time to hand wash in a basin and then line dry AND THEN iron and fold and put away? That is seriously comical to me.

These wives would make dinner from scratch!!!!!!!! I mean, I'm lucky if my kids don't get cereal for dinner.... Kidding. Sorta. But it's hard.

But do you know what difference was between now and then? Their kids were playing outside in their neighborhood unsupervised because they "could". In this day in age, that's a terrifying thought...So alas, here we are. Current housewives, trying to do the dishes and the laundry, and the cooking, and the cleaning, and the chores, and the errands.... ALL WHILE TOTING AROUND 35309583 CHILDREN. What. the. hell. It's impossible.

*Edit: My awesome sister linked me this hilarious post about a 1950's house wife and what she was expected to accomplish in a day. UM. RIGHT. http://www.littlethings.com/1950s-good-housewife-guide/?&utm_source=punch*

SO IN TODAY'S BLOG.... I'm going to talk about how THE STRUGGLE IS REAL to keep a house a home while having sweet baby heathens helping, decorating the home, and what not to do in your house.

Problem Number 1: I can't keep the house clean

As I've gotten older, I really like my home a certain way. I have expectations of what my home should look like for my everyday living. Simple things, really. I like clean toilets. I like shoes put in the shoe baskets. I like the kitchen counters wiped down. I like the toys picked up before bed. Sometimes this feels impossible when I am raising a 29 year old child along with my 1 and 4 year old. See exhibit A below:

Anyway, you get my point. I just like a put together(ish) house. 

Since having babies, I'm realizing how impossible it is to keep a house clean. Literally, I try. I kill myself trying. often times, I just give up. What is the point of picking up the mega blocks when Wes is just going to dump them all over the floor again?

We've all heard the phrase, "Excuse the mess. The children are making memories". NO. This is bullshit. THIS IS MORE LIKE IT...

(https://www.etsy.com/listing/255432472/kids-memories-sign-kids-making-memories?utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=shopping_us_c-home_and_living-home_decor-ornaments_and_accents_deeplink&utm_custom1=9fd1f450-ea03-4c45-8a39-fd973e1a2b61&gclid=CPCbuJGPjskCFdgHgQod5M4Lgg)

But let's give the kids credit... They are making memories while being assholes. 

So my advice? Clean when you can. Or just clean before you know someone is coming over. And if someone stops by and the house is a mess? Put your best Officer Wife smile on, giggle, and say "Oh pardon the mess. At least the children are playing beautifully." And when they leave, roll your eyes and cry in the bathroom until your husband comes home to pull you out of your embarrassment. Or just drink a glass of wine. Whatever. Just roll with it, girl. 

Problem Number 2: I can't decorate on a budget anymore. In fact, I can't decorate anymore at all.

Moving as a military wife is very challenging. We always have different types of homes to organize and decorate. And we hold our breath every PCS and pray our furniture fits. Some of my military Momma friends are amazing with decorating their homes and I'm struggling big time with my current house...

I have a group of amazing Mom friends. We are all military spouses, living across the United States, some even in Japan now. I think there is like 9 of us that talk every. single. day. on a facebook messaging thread together. I love these women. They are my family now. I know each of them so well. I know their struggles, they certainly know mine. I know their strengths and talents. We are diverse and unique, but somehow flawlessly friends. 

So one of these girlfriends is like, brilliant with decorating. That's the only way to describe it. She's absolutely brilliant. She crafts and paints and designs some of the most creative. The other day, I had to be frank with her though. I asked if I could ask her an offensive question. She giggled and said sure! I asked HOW THE FUCK SHE HAD THE TIME TO CRAFT?! AND how did she do it affordably? I asked her this out of pure curiosity, Like, I am lucky if I can put an outfit together and brush my teeth. And here my girlfriend is like... hand painting wooden signs, making wedding favors for friends, and like....doing it all while being a Mom, a wife, and a normal person that socializes with people. She graciously responded that she crafts because she utterly enjoys the process and blamed it on only having one child. Well, dear friend, if you're reading this, whatever you're doing, you're doing it so great, even "with one child". Even ONE child is hard work, so I commend you for always keeping your house absolutely stunning. Here is an example of her brilliance:

If you like what you see, you can shop on her etsy at: https://www.etsy.com/shop/SimplySchulze?ref=search_shop_redirect

Now one of my other friends is also a role model and someone I look up to daily. This woman has 10 children, all under the age of 13. Let me repeat that. She has ten. 5 of them are under 5. And she's just like me. And you. And my other friends. She carries herself with such a fun demeanor. She's always the person you want to go to for advice, because chances are, she's absolutely been there before, Fevers, chicken pox, cuts, or more major 911 emergencies, she's probably been there. Why go to the Doctor when you have her? She's BTDT. The best part about her? SHE NEVER JUDGES YOU FOR SPEAKING THE TRUTH ABOUT HOW HARD PARENTING IS! Let me show you her home...

So here these two amazing women are, with all these children, and they have model homes. I must be doing something wrong? Surely I'll figure it out. One day. But for now, I lurk and stalk pictures on pinterest. My new favorite design ideas come from "White Walls". It's my new favorite because half of it is brilliant and half of it is plain ridiculous. I'll get to that next.

Here is my home. Some of these are older and my house has improved some, but it's just not working for me really. It's okay. It's temporary, right? 

Problem Number 3: WHAT NOT TO DO IN YOUR HOME: White Walls and Vagina Antlers (Trust me, you want to read this)

Alright, so White Walls is a military community that discusses decorating and crafting. They've given me the brilliant idea to cover my awful white counter tops with granite contact paper. It actually turned out cute and it cost me $75.00. Now it took me about 3 hours to do and of course, I rushed to do it during nap time, and therefore I have air bubbles in it from rushing, but in general, it's okay. It's an improvement. 

Yesterday I was browsing the group and came across this picture and this caption: "So as I was about to throw my plastic clothes hangers away I had an idea. Can anyone see what I'm trying to do? I'm not sure whether or not to continue with gold paint."

UM, What? 

I knew what she was trying to do. I get it. Antlers. I think. I think antlers are like, a thing now? I like the rustic look, but I'm not fond of decorating my home with animal carcass. I think it's starting to become a trend again, like it was in the 70's. 

But anyway, if you're so bored and desperate that you connect plastic hangers to resemble antlers, you've gone too far off the edge in my opinion. 

So the comments she received were encouraging mostly. Girls said, "Cute!", "Creative!", "Antlers! I love it!". And then I commented. I was truthful. I was honest.

I told her it resembled a uterus. 

See exhibit A:

I know you see the resemblance too. Don't lie. 

So I think like 84 people "liked" the comparison picture and agreed with me. Of course I offended some people. One chick was like, "OH THAT'S SO RUDE!". 

Okay, well, it's kind of like the ink blot test,.. Some people see a uterus, some people see antlers. Regardless, I may be saving this chick a ton of embarrassment. What if she hung this on her wall and a guest came over and gasped from being offended by a large vagina painted gold in the foyer? I was doing her a favor. I'm sad to report she is continuing to work on her Vagina Antlers. She's begun to wrap it in twine. It's a wreck...

So here is my moral of the story...

No matter how hard decorating is with kids, or on a budget, we should never subject ourselves to painting hangers gold, shaping them in the shape of the female reproductive system, and hanging them on our wall. 

We can get through this, Mommas. We can and we will...but lets leave the hangers in the closet. 

Stay tuned for a finished product of the vagina antlers. I'm sure she will post a picture.

So in conclusion... The women of the 1950's had their shit together compared to me. Most women probably do compared to me. My house is not perfect, my home is rarely ever spotless, but my asshole kids ARE happy. And making memories, with me. That's just how it should be. If you plan on visiting, please give me a weeks notice so I can arrange Merry Maids to come first. 

Identity Theft

Let me begin this blog by saying WOW. I sat down to write my first blog out of frustration, anger, annoyance, and self pity. I never really expected many people to read it, let alone provide me with such touching feedback.

After I posted my first blog "The Struggle IS Real" (http://mommaisstrugglin.blogspot.com/2015/11/the-struggle-is-real.html) I received so many private messages and comments with similar stories of hell...Errr...Similar stories of our day to day life as mommas. It was touching, motivating, and liberating to know we aren't in this alone AND you wanted to read more from me! SO THANK YOU!

Tonight I want to discuss how our little sweet bundles of heathens steal our identities.

This begins at conception, I believe.

You see...what happens is once the sperm meets the egg, the game is over. The battle is lost. We no longer have any control over our bodies or our capabilities. I'm pretty positive of this.
I may be biased since I think I've been pregnant nonstop since January 2011? Whatever. Regardless, once we get pregnant, we lose ourselves and become someone we don't recognize anymore.
Can I get an Amen?

But seriously, once conception happens, we become sick, miserable fat women that are creating the most beautiful and precious thing on this earth. Our interests of clubbing and dancing at the bar is now traded with sipping lemon water and chewing on ginger snaps to keep the nausea under control. Our days of reading Fifty Shades of Grey has now turned into reading What to Expect... Our souls are captivated by these little tiny humans growing inside of us from day ONE of pregnancy. We spend our free time now reading on babycenter.com and joining pregnant forum groups, so we can ensure every symptom we are experiencing is in fact normal. For Christ's sake, if you've been in a good birth group, you even have seen pictures of other people's cervical mucus smeared o toilet paper with a captain, "IS THIS NORMAL? I AM 10 WEEKS PREGNANT". This most certainly was NOT a hobby of mine pre- pregnancy....

Motherhood changes our behavior.

Pregnant people compare baby bump sizes, miseries, pains, aches, and excitement. Conversation with non- pregnant friends becomes some what stale and true effort is made by each person to continue the fun friendship it once was. Pregnancy...motherhood... it changes us.

So then the baby is born. We all boast our birth stories like it's the worlds best selling novel. "Well I had 478 hours of labor and THEN had to get an emergency c-section and THEN a blood transfusion and then THE BABY SPENT 60 DAYS IN THE NICU!!!!!!!!!!" AND just when you think no other Mom can top that story, by GOLLY THEY CAN AND DO. But at the the end of all the traumatic birth stories and amazing birth stories and emotional birth stories, we are left with one thing in common: We are all Moms.

Motherhood changes our conversation.

So the babies become toddlers. And now our life revolves around play dates and parks and story time and snacks and survival... and suddenly we look in the mirrow (and we are probably pregnant by then again) and then we realize we are staring at a stranger.

Every single aspect of our lives gets devoured by these sweet babies... Our friendships revolve around other Moms. Our shopping trips are no longer to Express and Victoria Secret. We hoard Gymboree coupons and stalk the sales at Old Navy. We look in the mirror and realize that our activities and hobbies and interests are no longer ours.... We do everything for our kids. Because we want to. because frankly we have no time for ourselves. And now we have wrinkles. And gray hair. And stretch marks. Who have we become? Who am I?

You know, the other day, I was chatting with a dear friend of mine and she told me she went to college for Early Childhood Ed. Same as me. Yet after a few years of friendship,we are JUST discovering this? Are you kidding me?!

So who am I? Am I still a teacher? Do I still love to sign in ASL to popular songs on the radio? Am I still the free spirited girl that sprinted down the streets of Washington DC and through the metro with no shoes on so I could be the first in line to score a ticket to RENT? Am I still the girl that can remember every song lyric to any pop band during the 90s? Am I still the girl that can kick ass at left defense on a soccer field? Do any of my friends know how into musical theatre I was? Or how I competed in Tae Kwon Do for years? I know I am still this girl, somewhere. I can still do a roundhouse 360 kick and a flying side kick. I can still sprint my ass off on a soccer field. I can still sing my favorite Broadway tunes right on pitch, just like I once did. But I just don't anymore... Because of my little tiny identify thieves.

Moral of the story: Let's try not to lose ourselves and our souls in our children. Lets try to model to them who we are so they can become what they want to be. Lets let our friendships converse about our past interests and hobbies rather than our current and frankly, temporary activities.

The struggle is real, Mamas. Let's balance our identities.

Here are some pictures that kinda sum up who I was before I became a Mama...

                                                   I was the girl to always get on stage,,,

I was the girl that could ALWAYS throw down

 I was the girl that would curl up inside of a sleeper sofa and pretend it was a roller coaster.

I was the girl that bought novelty and stupid gift shop items because...why not? Now I freaking have to to avoid toddler tantrums.... 

I was the girl that dressed up in a slutty Halloween costume (and found a pet cow on the Metro?). Now my costumes are family based and very G rated.

I was the girl that danced in random restaurants.

The girl that would make new friends wherever I went.

The girl that would dance holding a MD flag in the middle of Rockville Town Center.

The girl that would do and try anything once. 

I don't want to lose that girl. I perhaps need to tone it down? Ha... but not lose it... I love that girl. 

Now this is me.....

The Struggle IS Real

I woke up today at 5:00 am. Today was no different than yesterday. Today is no different than tomorrow. I wake up every day at 5:00 am. It used to be 6:00 am until daylight savings decided to curse me yet again. By the time my kids adjust to this time change, it'll be time to do it again. I'm fairly confident that 99% of parents will gladly vote to get rid of daylight savings time. I mean... I'll happily donate big ass lights to farmers if that's what they need. My sleep is precious to me. But alas, I definitely don't get enough of it...

So at 5:00 am, my hallways were filled with little boys running as fast as they can from their room to my room, then my room to their room (this pattern continues until I about lose my shit with the chaos of early morning hallway sprinting). The boys are making truck noises as loud as they can. Sure. It's cute. But keep in mind I haven't had my coffee yet...SO it's not that cute. This is the same routine. Every morning.

My boys are 4 and 19 months. I'm pregnant with my third. It's a girl. Will she join in the 5:00 am truck races? We'll find out soon I guess.

It's like herding little sheep to get downstairs to start the breakfast routine. We live in a small house on a military base. I swear these houses were not designed to allow you to baby proof at all. The walls don't match up enough to install baby gates so both of my kids are head first into the refrigerator with me, pulling out the chocolate milk and every cup of yogurt I have. I'm not sure what is worse...the trucks racing down the hallway at 5:00 am or the 82493843 hands in my refrigerator helping me.

My husband is awake and helping. Sort of. He tries but ultimately he is just another kid to clean up after. He makes his coffee. He spills shit all over the counter. Every morning. Like, I wonder if something is wrong with his fine motor skills? Why does he spill shit everywhere? I should get him checked out... I'm an early childhood teacher - I can assess him. I'll make him do lacing cards or string me a beaded necklace...

Anyway, eventually we all sit down to eat breakfast together. It's cute. I'm glad we eat our first and last meal together as a family. I like that we do that. It's sort of peaceful. Sort of. I still haven't had my coffee by this point because I've been cleaning up after my husband and making the kids their breakfast. Usually oatmeal. The baby, Wes, is determined to feed himself. So oatmeal is the least offensive healthy breakfast I can think of. It's better than cereal and microwave pancakes. I try to save those for special weekends.

Breakfast usually ends whenever Wes is finished. He throws his bowl or milk to the ground. Pushes himself away from the table. Sends every smoke signal and sign he can think of to let us know he's done with his meal and we need to get him out of that chair asap before all mighty toddler hell breaks out. Soon after this happens, my 4 year old also decides he is done. I turn on the tv so I can clean up, but they don't watch it. I don't know why I subject myself to Dora when I could be sipping my coffee watching the Today Show....Perhaps I'll try that tomorrow...?

The boys are back to the truck noises and racing in my very small house... I'm trying to clean up while tripping over monster trucks, and matchbox cars and mega blocks. This is the dream...

It's now usually 6:30 am. From 6:30 am - 8:00 am it's just constant chaos. I am trying to get the kids dressed for school or other activities. I am trying to get myself dressed. I am trying to clean up. I am trying my damn hardest to just survive at this point and it's not even 8:00 am. Everything is a constant fight and battle. Do other Moms go through this...I wonder? I try to make it fun. We race to get clothes on... We see who can put shoes on the fastest... But it's still chaos. It's "fun" for them, but holy hell it's a lot of work for me. My husband has left for work at this point. He must have slipped out when I was cleaning up the entire cup of orange juice that somehow spilled from the front door to the back door of the house.... He slipped out quietly. He's smart. He's lucky.

I still haven't had my coffee..

Eventually I get ourselves together enough to get us to the car. I usually have to run inside for something I've forgotten. Probably my purse. Or cell phone. Or maybe I just come back inside to take a deep breath and listen to quiet.

Transitions are hard for us. Everything is hard for us...

We make it to our morning activities. I usually drop the 4 year old at preschool and then go to the gym. the gym here has a pretty cool parent babysitting group. I get two hours of workout time . Alone time. Adult time. Friend time. The two hours flies by. It isn't enough but I am grateful for it. Today I took a gym selfie. I never take pictures at the gym but I was having a decent hair day and my clothes kind of fit, so I thought why not... I am 26 weeks pregnant. Katelyn will be born in February.

I have to pick up Wes at 11 at the gym and then hurry to get Greyson, the 4 year old, from school. It's more transitions but unavoidable. Both boys are beyond ready for their naps at this point. They've already been awake for 6 hours. I've tried to postpone naps. It doesn't work.

We get home and again, their 35984958 hands race to the refrigerator because they are starving. I am too! I beg them to go sit down in their chairs while I get their lunches together. I am pretty good about meal planning, so the food is already ready, it just needs to be microwaved. HOWEVER... 30 seconds in a microwave IS the end of the world to Weston. Since 30 seconds is clearly too long to wait, THIS is what happens when I finally offer him his plate of food. Clearly it's no good to him,

Nap comes and goes all too quickly. The boys only sleep for maybe an hour. Sometimes an hour and a half. They're never happy after nap. They are groggy and angry. I can usually calm them down by reading them books or doing other quiet activities until they're ready to bounce back to their normal chaotic happy place. 

Daddy comes home around 5:00 pm. I'm so ready to hand my babies over to him when he walks in the door. I try not to because that certainly doesn't help his stress any. We eat dinner as a family and the boys go to bed early and fairly easy... Which leaves me the night to mop up orange juice, clean chocolate milk up, wash and fold laundry, do the dishes.....It's continuous. It's on repeat. I'm on robotic never ending chores mode. 

But this is the real life of a stay at home mom....right? Sometimes I wonder. I see everyone's facebook posts with their happy smiling children and their clean houses and their non stressed attitudes...and I have to wonder...Am I doing something wrong? Am I the only one that struggles? I can't be? Or am I? I see Moms post about activities they do with their toddlers and I am envious. How? How do they do it all, so beautifully and graciously? I'm over here hanging on by a thread over a cliff it feels. 

I don't know why I think I can blog. I hardly have time and energy to go to shower. So why do I think I can make a blog? 

I think I want to blog about the struggles I face because I don't feel like Moms out there are true to how difficult motherhood can be. I feel like we all need to be a little bit more realistic with each other. I have an amazing group of Mommy friends that vent to one another about our struggles, but I mean on a more broad level: WHY cant we be more honest with our daily struggles? 

My days are full of chaos. My days are full of frustration. BUT my days are just a glimpse in time of how fast this is all happening. 

If I don't respond to a text or answer your phone call, it's most likely due to literally not being able to at the moment. I'm probably wiping a tooshie, giving a bath, cleaning up a mess, or more importantly, playing with my kids. Frankly, I hate talking on the phone when my kids are awake. They feel ignored and then more chaos happens. 

This is the hardest and most rewarding job I've ever had and my chaos is beyond anything I've ever experienced... But man, I'm so lucky to be their Mom. <3