Mommy Needs A Hug

Being a parent is hard. Being a mother is hard enough. People that do anything to make that even a little more difficult make more of a difference than they know. People who make mothers doubt themselves anymore than they already do, make more of an impact than they know. Mothers are their own worst critics. We already know the majority of our flaws. The spots that we are falling short. So when people point out things that make you doubt yourself in something you didn’t previously doubt yourself, it sticks. When people do things to make life a little more inconvenient, it sticks.

I think I mentioned before that a few years ago, before I got pregnant with Joey, we were staying at a hotel with the kids. While walking through the lobby this old woman starts talking to us. It seemed innocent enough, some small talk. She asked us how old our kids were to which I responded honestly. I told her they were 3 and 1 or whatever age they were at the time. She responded to that with “you need to get a TV”. Now Joseph didn’t even realize what she meant by this, but I did. It’s not the first time an old woman has said something of the nature to me, because for whatever reason old women are very, very bold when it comes to mothers. So then I had to explain to Joseph what this woman was saying to us. It isn’t even that big of a deal, but it stuck with me. It was an unnecessary judgment that made me question if I was doing something wrong as a mother because we had our kids close together. It contributed to my reasoning as to why I did not want to tell anyone when we found out we were having Joey.

It’s things like this all the time. The comments, the judgment, that make being a mother harder because it causes more questioning and criticism on yourself. I can’t even count the amount of times I’ve heard “you’ve got your hands full” after telling people how close in age the kids are. I know I’m busy. I live it. I know already. And I LOVE IT! I love how close the kids are in age. because they’re best friends. Regardless, it still sticks in the back of my brain every time someone says it.

Then, just last weekend we took the kids to the zoo. As we were walking out I said to Joe “let’s go to the gift shop. We never do that and I want this trip to be different than the other times we’ve come to the zoo.” It was perfect because Mark had wanted to take pictures with me in the picture booth at the zoo before we left but it wasn’t working. So we scampered over to the gift shop like the curious little squirrels we are. We walked in and I told the kids they could get one thing. They had that like typical gift shop rock stand thing and bags of dirt to do that mining thing. Mark absolutely loves rocks so I was like “cool! Mark do you want rocks or something for your collection?” He was super excited about it and started filling up his bag with rocks he thought was pretty. And over walks this middle aged woman with like a preteen kid and she says “wow they can really sell anything these days. Rocks. Dirt. Just put a price tag on it”.

Now I know that some people probably wouldn’t care. But that echoes in my head. I keep hearing that lady saying that in her condescending tone. I did something to make my children happy and I got scrutinized for it. I couldn’t even find the words to say when she said it I was so shocked. I just looked at her and then kept helping Mark put his rocks in his bag. Now looking back on it though I can’t wrap my head around it. I just can’t. Yes, to some people it seems dumb to buy rocks, I get that. But what that lady didn’t know is how happy they made him. She didn’t know how much he loves rocks. She didn’t know that when he got in the car he said “now my rock collection is complete”, with a smile. She judged another mother over something that didn’t concern her at all and acted like those rocks stands haven’t been around for decades. It took zero effort to keep her mouth shut and judgment to herself, but she just had to make me doubt myself as a mother about buying something for my child that put a smile on his face.

There is absolutely no reason for judging another mother outside of her putting her children in actual danger. I wish that people could keep their judgment to themselves, because mothers are their own harshest critic and we don’t need any outside comments to make us critique ourselves anymore than we do. Just keep it to yourself. Just like your mothers taught you “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all”.

Those of us with kids know we have our hands full. We know our kids are close in age. We know we’re busy. We know buying rocks seems stupid to you. We know. You don’t need to point it out. We know exactly what you mean when you make these comments. They are back handed and condescending 99 percent of the time. Don’t think that we don’t get it, because we do. We all do. All you do by doing this is make someone feel bad about themselves and potentially cause them to keep things to themselves that they would otherwise love to share. Motherhood is supposed to bond mothers together and instead it feels like for a lot of women it’s more about tearing people apart and making them and their parenting choices feel less than. Be better, do better, and treat others the way you want to be treated.

Hello everyone! It’s been quite some time but here I am again. Your friendly motherhood introvert here.

I have been in quarantine for 2 weeks as some of you may know. Before that happened I was going through a really rough patch of feeling inadequate. As a mother, a wife, a coworker, a friend, a daughter, and the list goes on. I touched on this with my therapist too. And since I’ve been in quarantine I’ll be honest, the question “am I doing a good job?” has crossed my mind more times than I can count.

I am a perfectionist. I want everything to be right. I strive for perfection at all times, apparently as a way to control my anxiety. Because of this I have been questioning if I’m doing a good job at things. At everything. I have been constantly going over it and over it if I am doing ok as a mother. My job as a mother is to raise kind, caring, and creative individuals. My job is to help them grow into their personalities and truly be themselves, while making sure that they also don’t grow up to be dicks. Am I doing that? I feel like I’m very hard on them. I try, what I think, is my best to teach them how to deal with emotions and struggles, but is it really accomplishing the goal?

And then I also wonder if I’m spending enough time with them. Am I teaching them enough? Am I giving them equal amounts of attention? Do I treat them all equally? Do their punishments fit their crimes equally? Am I doing enough to raise kind, considerate children? I don’t know. I feel like I keep falling short. I feel like I am failing them as a mother. I feel like I don’t spend enough time with them. I feel like while I love them all equally, with all my heart, that I am harder on Mark or Rose about certain things.

I wake up throughout the night to feed Joey. Which in and of itself makes me feel like I’m failing because he’s almost 7 months old and still waking up several times throughout the night. I know that it’s because he wants me to comfort him, but everyone has drilled it in my head that it’s not normal for kids to want comfort. That it’s spoiling them. That by this age you should already be letting them “cry it out”. And I’ll be honest with you I hate the “cry it out” method. It’s heart wrenching and barbaric in my opinion and I hated doing it with the other two and I refuse to do it. Yet there is still that voice in the back of my head of society telling me that I need to let him cry it out or he’ll be spoiled. He needs to soothe himself. He needs to figure it out. This in particular has been swirling around my head. I don’t know what the right this is to do. I let the other two cry it out. Did I fail them? Did I do the wrong thing? I listened to everyone and they all said it was ok. But it didn’t feel ok. And it doesn’t feel ok now. Am I doing it wrong? Did I do it wrong? What is right? Failing. Who did I fail? Did I fail myself for trusting everyone and listening to anything other than my own instinct? Did I fail Mark and Rose for forcing them to “figure it out” at such a young age? Am I failing Joey for not letting him “figure it out”?

Anyway, back on track. I wake up throughout the night to feed Joey. I wake up in the morning and feed Joey. I get ready for work, make coffee, prepare my pumps, pack some snacks and my pump bag, get everything in the car and go. I go to work all day. I feel like a terrible mom all day because I left my kids and how could I possibly do that? And while I’m at work I constantly feel like I’m falling short on my work responsibilities too. I don’t have my qualifications yet and I just am not doing enough at work despite trying to pick up more responsibilities and relieve some weight from others. And then I feel bad about work because I want one more child. And how dare I even contemplate the thought of one more child and not get my quals and leave them shorthanded and be a bad shipmate and just fail everybody for the sake of my own selfish personal family life.

Then, I get home from work. Now it’s like 3:30/4, sometimes later, sometimes earlier. I get home and I immediately have to unpack my bag and get dressed and then jump right into the dinner time routine. I have to find a way to feed us all. I finish cooking, we sit down to eat, I’m exhausted. Did I drink water? No. I didn’t. Did I eat today? Not nearly enough. The baby needs to eat. I escape into the bedroom to feed the baby where the older two won’t distract him with their happy banter and giggling. I love their giggling. I desperately want to eat with my family and hear those sweet laughs and the stories about their day. But I can’t. I have to feed the baby. I finish and come back to the table, only to find that everyone else is done and now I have to sit here and eat alone.

I sit somberly by myself, sometimes joined by Joe, and eat my meal. I eat quickly because there is still so much to do. The list in my head is constantly getting longer. There is always something else getting added. Always something else to do. So I eat as fast as I can and then I clean up. I pack up the leftovers and I get the dishes in the sink. Then, usually, I load up the dishwasher and Joe sits by and sulks because, once again, I have made him feel inadequate because I have to have control of it all and have everything just so. For a second I feel better. I feel like I did something and I can spend some time with the kids. But then I look around.

The clothes need to be washed. The clothes need to be folded. The clothes need to be put away. The stove is dirty and needs to get wiped down. The counters need to get wiped. The dogs need to get let out. The dishes need to get put away. My pump needs to get washed. The floor needs to get swept. The floor needs to get vacuumed. I need to prep for tomorrow. The kids need to get ready for bed. The landscaping has to get done. The bathroom is still torn apart. The baby books still need to get caught up on. Is it someone’s birthday? Someone’s anniversary? A holiday? Am I missing something? Oh no! I forgot to put my new bumper on my truck. Our door is broken and we need a new one. The trash needs to go out. Is it trash day tomorrow because if it is the trash needs to go to the curb? I should work out. But I need to practice self care. I need to take time for myself but I need to do all this other stuff and no one else is going to do it right. The garage is a mess it needs to be organized. Why does this stuff still need to go to the attic? Why am I failing?

After running around the house like a tornado, spiraling down into the rabbit hole and making everyone around me feel like crap because they can’t escape the storm that I’m brewing, I get the baby ready for bed and we go to sleep just to do it all again tomorrow.

And then I think about how I didn’t spend any time with my family and I miss them. And everyone tells me “spend time with them the chores will be there later”. I want to listen but I can’t wrap my head around just leaving it there for later because then there’s more to do and then I’m failing even more. But if I do the chores and don’t spend time with my family then I’m failing them too. Am I doing good enough? Am I doing an ok job? I don’t even know anymore. I don’t know if I’m doing my job as a parent and raising kind, considerate children, or if I’m showing them that everything always has to be perfect and turning them into anxious tornados. I don’t know anymore. What I do know is that me needing to do everything is not good for my marriage. It stresses me out and I lose my temper and make Joe feel terrible and I don’t want that. I don’t want him to feel like he can’t do anything right. He’s a great father and husband. He’s doing a great job and I’m too hard on him but I can’t stop myself from spiraling and it sucks. Am I doing a good enough job? It doesn’t feel like it. I’ll never be adequate enough. I’ll always be falling short on something, or everything.

That’s what it’s like in my head. I’m trying. I’m failing. But I’m not. I’m trying to tell myself I’m not failing. It’s just my head tricking me into thinking I’m not a good mom. I’m a great mom. I wish my head would tell me I’m a great mom instead of pointing it’s finger at everything I’m missing and messing up.

Well, thank you for listening to the rambling of one very anxious, very stressed out, mom.

And happy April, for those of you who don’t know, it’s the month of the military child. So happy April to all those military kids who are resilient, but especially my military kiddos for dealing with me and my whirling brain.

If no one told you today, and you can’t find it in you to tell yourself, like I can’t, you’re doing a great job mama.

So I use my blog and website more like a diary than anything. I use it that way in hopes that my struggles can help someone, somewhere manage a little better or feel a little less alone. A lot of what I have been writing in the past few months has been primarily focused on the negatives surrounding me. I’ve had a lot going on, mentally and physically, that I am really grateful that I had this platform to vent on. I still have a lot going on and I’m still very stressed out and not in a great spot mentally. However, I want to use this post to focus on some positive things that have happened. I want you all to know that no matter how bad of a spot you are in there are always good things to focus on too. I have been looking for the positive person that I used to be, or maybe not truly be but at least I portrayed myself outwardly as that positive person. So this post is dedicated to me looking at and for the positives in life. Here we go.

In the past few months I have had the opportunity to go to therapy and talk to a therapist, as well as a postpartum group, and a psychologist(?). Between all these people combined I’ve been able to sit and think and notice some of the destructive behaviors I have as coping mechanisms or otherwise. It’s truly a wonderful feeling to be able to notice the things that I do and have the opportunity to change my mindset or at least try and look at things differently to better myself and my situations.

As always, my kids are the lights of my life. Joey has started crawling in the past few weeks. He is mobile now and he is loving it. He likes being on the floor and playing with Mark and Rose and it is truly magical to watch them all bond. Joey also found his voice and he has sure been letting it be known. He has the cutest little giggle and he is very vocal and just such a happy baby. He still isn’t taking a bottle but he’s eating some solid food and he is absolutely loving it. It’s really funny to watch him eat because he makes such a mess and is so aggressive about it that he almost bit off Joe’s finger which was pretty funny. He makes such a mess and get food all over his nose and his face and that’s just my favorite when kids start eating solids. I’m evolving as a parent in that aspect too. I decided to give homemade baby food and baby led weaning a try and it’s kind of fun to try those new things.

Mark is so energetic and active. He constantly has something to do or say. He is always doing something and getting Rose to play too. Lately Mark has been asking a lot of questions with a lot of them being really hilarious. Apparently today him and Rose were telling Joe about how they’re going to have big boobies when they grow up. Good for them, ya know? Mark has also been really lovable lately which is really awesome. He went through this phase where he only said “i love you” to me when he wanted something and I’m really glad to be past that. He has been wanting a lot of hugs, cuddles, and kisses lately and that really makes me happy and makes these long days a little more bearable. He also seems to be sleeping a lot better, which is really great because he was barely sleeping at all for a long time. He really is just the sweetest boy. He’s also doing better with his variety of food. He is slowly trying new things on occasion and, even if he doesn’t eat those things consistently, at least he tries them. Him and Rose have been getting along and you can really tell again how close they are. They went through a little riff after the baby was born so it’s nice to see them getting along again like the best friends they were before. Mark also really likes helping me unload groceries. He just wants to be helpful. He’s really good at helping with Joey too. He’s just evolving into this little person and it’s bittersweet but that’s what parenting is is helping them evolve into little people that don’t suck so I think we’re doing a pretty good job.

And my little Rosie. Oh Rosie is just as feisty as ever. She is such a free spirit. She marches to the beat of her own drum in the best possible way. As much as I like to watch her play with her brothers, it is something special when she gets to play on her own. She has an amazing imagination, particularly when she is playing by herself. She’s finally starting to talk more which is amazing because she hasn’t really been talking too much up to this point, but now she’s getting the hang of it. She likes playing with her scooter and zooming around the house. We also have had some special bonding time just me and her where she has helped me cook. She actually learned how to cut things with a knife so she helped me cut up a kiwi for Joe one day. She is the sweetest little human. She always grabs two of any snack when she gets something so that Mark can have one too. She is absolutely obsessed with lollipops. Like seriously obsessed. Rose is really starting to hold her own when it comes to Mark. He used to take her food and not let her talk and just boss her around but now she sticks up to him and it’s good to see her turning into such a strong little girl. She’s very smart. We started learning letters and she’s very very intelligent. I’ve heard your daughter is a reflection of you and she truly is. I see all my best traits in her and sometimes I really need that.

My dear sweet Joe. Joe and I have been working really hard towards a healthy marriage, and we are really getting there. We are rediscovering each other and really bonding again. We are starting to remember what we love about each other and why we became best friends in the first place. I am starting to really see my best friend in him again and I’m glad that could happen in this time when I need him. He is trying to progress himself in a lot of ways and I’m really happy for him. The more he works on improving the things he knows he needs to work on internally, the better our marriage becomes. Our marriage has truly never been better and I hope that we keep going on this uphill trend because I love having my best friend back and learning about what drives him and just really bonding with him. We even bought a bunch of gym equipment so maybe we can help motivate each other to get to a healthier us too. I hope that we can use that as a little extra bonding time as well as self improvement.

For all the complaining I do. For all the negative that I write about. For all the bad things that happen and the stress and anxiety that surround me. I want you all to know that I have so much that I’m grateful for. There are so many good things that happen all the time and unfortunately the bad overshadows that a lot of the time and I don’t take the time to focus on all that I have. I’m glad for all the opportunities I have to better myself and get to a good place and I’m so grateful to have my family as my support system right now and just to shine light on the positive around me. Like I said, there is still a lot of stress, but I have so many positive things around me too. I needed to write this down and help me see the light at the end of the tunnel. The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, if you will.

What a life. The ups and downs will all be worth it. I’m sure of it.

I am exhausted. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. My anxiety is through the roof. I’m emotionally spent. I’m physically exhausted. I’m beyond irritated. I’m just….tired.

Joey will not take a bottle. Will not. Which has set off a chain of effects that is making everyone’s life a little more difficult and a little more stressful. It has been three weeks and he will not take a bottle. We have tried everything. I have tried giving them. Joe has tried. I even resorted to having Mark and Rose try to give the bottle. We have tried 6 bottles, at least two different flow nipples for each. We have tried a syringe, a cup, a pacifier. Hot bottles. Cold bottles. Warm bottles. New milk. Older Milk. Formula. Different positions. (Apparently I’m now Dr. Seuss). We have tried it all and he won’t take the bottle.

I wake up in the morning and he eats before I go to work, which he usually finishes up around 6:50AM. I walk out the door and worry all day about him not eating. I usually text Joseph around 9 or 10 to see if he’s tried the bottle yet. By 11 the baby is in full melt down mode and won’t eat. He eventually gives up and goes to sleep only to wake up a few hours later starving and mad to realize I’m not there and go back to sleep again, defeated. This has been three weeks.

As you can imagine this is very stressful. Joe is stressed because the baby is constantly upset and he’s still trying to take care of Mark and Rose. I’m stressed because I’m at work feeling like a terrible mother and worrying about my child’s well being and if he’s going to be ok. Joey is stressed because he’s so incredibly hungry and I’m not there to help him. He gives up.

I have talked to the pediatrician three times. Yes, three. She continues to tell me “he’ll eat”. When very clearly he won’t. Today when we went in she said “well he gained 3 ounces so he’s fine”. Yes, he gained three ounces, however, it’s been a month and prior to this past month he was gaining 2-3 pounds per month so 3 ounces is very abnormal for him for a month. Also, he eats almost constantly from the time I walk in the door after work until right around midnight. So he’s eating, which explains any weight gain, but it’s definitely not normal when he’s eating. To put this in perspective as to why I’m concerned even though he’s “gained”. He was in the 64th percentile a month ago. He has now dropped down to the 59th percentile. He was on a nice steady growth right along that 64 line and now he’s headed on the decline. He has fallen off his nice steady line.

3 weeks. 3 weeks of the pediatrician telling me “he’ll eat” and “he won’t starve”. Today she actually said to me “I think he’s just yanking your chain” and “he’s just strong willed”. Um, excuse me?! This isn’t a fucking game, this is my child. A small child. If I don’t speak up for him and try and solve this issue who will?

Needless to say, we are going to be switching pediatricians. I ran around all day today trying to figure this out. Finding resources, any resources I can to try and get him to eat. With no luck I might add. The pediatrician didn’t help. I spoke to several different people looking for resources to no avail. I called the lactation consultant from the hospital I gave birth at only to get an answering machine. I’m at my wit’s end and don’t know where to turn from here.

I cry everyday all the way to work. I get to work and paint a smile on my face and try to ignore the pain I’m feeling. But my soul is getting ripped apart thinking about how my little man won’t eat. I worry all the way home, sometimes crying on the way home out of panic. I get home and he breathes a sigh of relief before yelling at me because now he doesn’t know if he can trust that he’ll actually get to eat. Dinner time hits and I make dinner, barely staying awake while I alternate between dinner and feeding Joey. Then after the kids go to bed I look around the house a wave hits me. I look around at everything that I’ve been putting off because obviously feeding my child comes first. But I’m the only one who does anything around the house. Seriously. I do the dishes, the laundry, cook, clean, take the trash out, pay all the bills, fix the cars, fix the house, teach the kids, bathe them, feed them, help them brush their teeth, clothe them, brush hair, and cut hair. I look around and I get so overwhelmed. How am I ever going to catch up? How am I ever to go get everything together? It’s too much for one person to handle.

To top off the past three weeks of Joey not eating, there’s a whole slew of other issues too. Rose keeps begging for attention and wanting to be treated like a baby. She keeps throwing tantrums and crying all day and nothing helps calm her down. Mark treats Rose like she is his personal servant and sends her to ask for snacks for the both of them, or water, or toys or whatever it is he wants. My truck’s check engine light is on again. Partly because it needs an oil change and partly because there is a coolant leak…again. And we ripped apart our bathroom to remodel thinking it would be a quick project that we would work on over the weekends, but our plans keep falling through and we don’t have anyone to watch the kids and it’s kind of a two person project to get the drywall up. As if it couldn’t get any better we got a nasty letter from saying we had to get rid of our bathtub because trash doesn’t pick them up (they picked it up). And then now our main sewer line is clogged and needs to get snaked, which shouldn’t be a big deal, but with everything else going on we don’t really have time to deal with that right now.

Basically, in short, I’m worried about my kid, I’m overwhelmed and if someone else tells me “he’ll eat when he’s hungry” I am going to fucking flip my lid. If anyone, anywhere, has a suggestion on how to get him to take a bottle please please please let me know because I am tired. He is keeping me up all night feeding and worrying and I am just completely, in every sense of the word, exhausted. And so are Joe and Joey. What a year already.

4.5 years ago I gave birth to a glowing baby boy. (Not literally. That would be concerning.) From the day he was born until present day I have not been myself. I have tried to hide the full extent of this for fear of being judged, shamed, or it somehow negatively impacting my employment. In this moment right now I’m coming clean. For 4.5 years I have been pretending that I am perfectly okay. That I can handle anything and everything, by myself, all the time. That I’m super mom and I don’t need help. The truth is that mentally, I have been struggling for years. I have pushed it aside, I have ignored it, never allowing myself to seek help because that somehow felt like a failure.

When Mark was born I had a really hard time. Which is ultimately the reason I didn’t breastfeed, as I had touched on in a previous post. My mental health was in the shitter. I was breaking down feeling like an absolute failure and so incredibly guilty because my child wasn’t eating. I was in the house constantly, too afraid to leave for fear that something terrible would happen if I stepped out of the house. That clearly wasn’t a realistic thought process, but I was absolutely consumed with this worry. I thought that maybe it was just normal first time mom worry, but in the back of my mind I knew it wasn’t right. I knew that the sadness that was consuming me, the nights I would lay awake just making sure he was breathing all night, the complete breakdowns on the bathroom floor, they weren’t normal. These feelings I was having weren’t normal.

I sought out advice from a friend while I was still on maternity leave. I will never forget every ounce of help and advice he has ever given me in any struggle I’ve faced. He met me at Starbucks one day after work, or during lunch, while I was on maternity leave. I came into the city specifically for this moment. I needed it. We met up for coffee and I broke down in tears telling him how I fell like I was trapped. There was this darkness surrounding me and I didn’t know who I was anymore outside of being a mother. He asked me what would make me feel better and I told him I think bike riding would but my tires were flat and I didn’t have bike shoes that fit anymore. I never did take that bike ride, but he put air in my tires and took me to get bike shoes. It may seem silly or small, but in that moment it made me feel better. He always did small things like that. Making me get out of the house for a little while to clear my head, sitting down and having genuine conversations about how I felt and truly caring my response. Still, it didn’t really truly hit me that something was wrong, and even if it did I was scared to say anything for fear of the toll it would take on my career.

Fast forward to when Rose was born. Nothing had gotten better. I hadn’t magically healed. I couldn’t just ignore it into non existence. I thought I could but I couldn’t. And now I had to do this postpartum all over again. At this point I took note of my unusual behaviors. My constant worry. My irrational anger towards my husband. (Sometimes it was rational, but I digress.) I heard the words coming out of my mouth, the tone, and I knew in my head that I sounded crazy. I knew in my head that I was completely being unreasonable. I didn’t mean this anger that was spewing out of me, but I couldn’t stop it. No matter how much I tried the anger still came spilling out like a volcano erupting onto a village of innocent people. I took note. I realized truly that this wasn’t normal. Even mentioning once or twice “I need help but I don’t want to lose my job”. Struggling. I was afraid and so the struggle continued, the worry continued, the anger continued, and I didn’t leave my house. I stayed sheltered in my cave with the doors locked and the blinds closed, only to (reluctantly) leave the house to go grocery shopping and to work. Scared.

Now when I was pregnant with Joey I said to Joseph something along the lines of “you know it’s going to get worse again right?” I knew. He knew. We both consciously knew that something was wrong. Something had always been wrong. And we knew that I needed help, but we all know that people don’t get help until they want to, and I was still afraid to get help.

Well after Joey was born I had my fair share of breakdowns. Getting completely overwhelmed over mundane tasks. The floor needed to be swept but it felt like too much. COVID definitely didn’t help with the worry either. Again, not leaving the house unless absolutely necessary. Having panic attacks at the grocery store. Laying on the carpet in a full blown fit of tears and not knowing why. Not being able to stop. Being just completely overwhelmed with everything. I remember vividly one day packing up to go to my parents house. I was overwhelmed and I needed a break. I desperately need out of the same 4 walls. I needed my mom. I needed new faces, new scenery. So I spent hours packing everyone’s bags. Several weeks worth of clothes because I honestly wasn’t sure we would ever come back. I felt like the only way to escape these feelings was to not come back. That day after loading up the car most of the way I realized I had no room to put the dog crate. Then I came inside and realized that I couldn’t find the babies other sock. He needed that sock. There was no way we could leave this house without that sock. It’s not like he has a million other pairs of socks. We couldn’t leave without THAT ONE. It had to be found. But I couldn’t find it. I couldn’t find it and I just slumped to floor after exploding in a fit of rage at Joseph. I sat down on that floor and I cried over a baby sock. But it wasn’t about the baby sock. It was about feeling like I had failed my family because I couldn’t do this simple task of loading the car and finding a sock. And because of that my children would grow up and hate me. That was the thought that came into my head. That I had completely ruined my children over a dog crate and a sock. Everyone sat there looking at me. I could feel the eyes on me. My children taking note of this, so I thought.

I had many breakdowns over things like that. Small things to other people that just made me feel like the world was collapsing around me. Then like a sign. Like the universe slapping me in the face to get it together, Kim reached out to me. She gave me some information on a PPD group that meets on Zoom every third Saturday of the month. The third Saturday of this month just happened to be the next day. It was immediately like a weight lifted. I told Joseph “I have something to do tomorrow” and explained. He said “good for you!” and we went about our day. It was time. It was finally time. I had finally in that moment accepted that I needed help. I needed to start somewhere, and this was my starting point. So I jumped off and I attended the meeting. A meeting where several other women, with an actual diagnosis, sat there and described exactly what I was feeling. Every thought I had had, someone in the group had also. I was no longer alone, and it was all the motivation I needed to keep asking about help.

I went into a downward spiral a few days later and completely ripped apart both of our bathrooms. It needed to be done, but not right now. This prompted me to get some more information specific to my situation. I reached out the mothers of the Active Duty CG community, who then rushed to my side with their stories of how they got help. Everything I had feared would happen to my career was eased. They eased my worry and gave me everything left that I needed to get the help I needed. To reach out further.

Today I had an appointment with a psychologist. I was diagnosed with anxiety. And honestly, it feels good. It feels good that I got help. It feels good that I put myself first for what feels like the first time in my entire life. It feels good that I have a diagnosis. I’m not just a weird crazy person. I am normal. This is normal. Many people go through this. I have nothing to be ashamed of. I haven’t failed myself or anybody else. In fact, I have helped myself and many others in my life. I have put myself first and hopefully, with time and help, I will be a better mother. I will be a better daughter. A better friend. A better me. A better person. I should have done this so much sooner. I shouldn’t have hesitated.

If you are struggling, let people help you. I missed all the signs of people trying to help me. Ask for help if no one offers. Sometimes people don’t know, or don’t realize. Sometimes people need you actually ask so that they can help you. Reach out for help. Don’t struggle. Don’t keep putting yourself through stress and pain for no reason. There is help out there. There is so much help, even if you miss the signs and don’t see it, it’s there.

If you EVER need to talk about ANYTHING, please do not hesitate to reach out. You can contact me at my email, my instagram, my facebook, my website. Whatever you need I will be there for you or try and lead you in the right direction.

Thank you to those who helped me. All the Active Duty moms, my husband, my parents, my children, JC (if you read this you know who you are), and Kim. Thank you for showing me what I couldn’t see without you and for leading me in the right direction to get help. I will never be able to thank any of you enough. I hope that this will get better and that I’ll keep moving in the right direction to a better me.

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Much love, Your Friendly Neighborhood Introvert

Parental leave in the United States is absolutely ridiculous. We are not guaranteed any paid leave upon having a child, and if we are it’s not nearly enough. The first year of life is crucial in developing a relationship with your child and for some reason the U.S. believes that 3 months is enough time for a mother to recover from childbirth, build a bond, breastfeed, adjust to life as a parent or as a different family dynamic, and allow the father to build a relationship with the child as well. And for those that don’t get paid leave, which is a lot of the population in the States, they return to work much sooner than 3 months because they can’t afford to survive without that income.

I have been lucky enough to be granted paid leave unlike a lot of people in the U.S., which is amazing and I am so grateful for that, but the parental leave as a whole in this country is very underwhelming. I myself have been given 12 weeks of maternity leave with every child. With Mark and Joey I was allowed to take an extra 30 days for medical reasons prior to their birth. Then after, since I was still getting paid, I was able to take some of my vacation time to cover a few extra weeks. With that said, I still don’t think it was enough.

For a little background, I did some research and found that when 42 countries were compared next to each other for their maternity leave 41 of them had some kind of guaranteed paid parental leave, with the average being 18 weeks. In 41, yes 41, out of 42 countries parents got at least some time with ATLEAST a percentage of their pay covered. The only country that did not have any, ANY, guaranteed paid parental leave was the United States. This is unacceptable and ridiculous. Why is it that the average is 18 weeks paid leave and we come up with 0 weeks paid leave?

The first year of a child’s life is especially important. This time is when they build the lasting bond with their parents, they reach a huge amount of developmental milestones, they have a plethora of doctors check ups, and when put in daycare they usually get a lot of illnesses in the first year. Why is it that so many other countries know and understand this and we can’t figure it out? Why is it that we are forced to be separated from our children so soon when other countries (Bulgaria) have over a year of paid leave?

I am in a Facebook group for those who had babies in 2020. In this group I have seen more women than I can count on two hands and two feet that have had to rush back to work within 2-4 weeks of having a child because they couldn’t afford not to. Think that over for a second. You don’t get cleared for activities and work from your doctor until 6 weeks yet women are going back to work at 2 weeks postpartum. Further, imagine, you had a baby 2 weeks ago, you are likely still bleeding, you likely still have stitches that are healing, you most definitely still have an open wound where the placenta was attached, and yet you are forced to go back to work because you can’t afford to LIVE without it. Does this seem even a little bit logical? Is that not the most asinine thing you have ever heard?

And then people wonder why so many women suffer in their postpartum. Maybe if we didn’t force women back to work they would have the appropriate time to adjust to life as a mother, they could heal physically and mentally, and be in a healthy place to go back to work. You want to help women? Give them some time to heal. Some time to adjust. Some time to grow into their new life. Instead we send them back to work too soon, bombard them with “when are you going to have another”, and never ask them if they’re ok.

Don’t even get me started on paternal leave. Dads don’t need to spend time with their kids as newborns? Dads don’t need to adjust to life as a parent? Sure they aren’t healing physically, but dads also suffer mentally upon becoming a parent. Dads should also be granted some time to bond with their children, to adjust to their new life, to HELP THEIR CHILD’S MOTHER who is healing from a major physical event. For those women who had C-sections, does it not seem a little unfair to send their husbands back to work immediately leaving them alone with a newborn after just going through a major surgery?

Joseph and I, in the grand scheme, were extremely lucky to receive any paid leave with our kids, but lets delve into this a little bit further. With Mark, Joseph received 10 days of leave after he was born. At 10 days postpartum I still could barely walk, it hurt so bad to sit down, and my body was still in a world of hurt. Yet Joseph was back at work, only to be underway shortly after. I was at home struggling and Joseph missed out on the majority of that first year, and the years following, of Mark’s life. With Rose, Joseph received 21 days of leave. The policy had just changed so it was a fight to receive those days, and still by no means is 21 days enough. Especially when he got underway, I believe it was, less than week after he went back. Again, missing out on the majority of the first year of Rose’s life.

Now I know that many people are fighting, constantly fighting, for better maternity leave. And that’s great. It needs to happen sooner, but it’s great that they’re trying so hard. With that said, who’s fighting for the fathers? If the fathers get extra leave all it does is help mother, father, and baby. There is no harm in allowing parents time to heal, learn, and grow as a family.

We need to be better. I can’t for the life of me figure out why much of the rest of the world can figure out how to function without people when they are on parental leave, but we, seemingly the only country who can’t, can’t figure out how to function without people or give them a guaranteed ANY time off paid in the postpartum period. We need to be better. For the mothers, for the fathers, for the children, our parental leave needs to be better.

I have so much more I want to say about this but I can’t figure out how to say it right now. I would love to discuss with anyone who wants to if you know the policies in other countries, or if you just also don’t think it makes sense and would like to discuss. We need a change and I’d like to help be a part of that change. If there are any petitions you know of or any other programs fighting for parental leave to change please also point me in that direction, because I would love to see it and help make a difference in any way I can.

Also, I go back to work tomorrow which is why this has been weighing so heavy on my mind lately. I am very anxious about it and have broken down in tears about it more times than I care to admit. I wish I could have more time. I need more time.

If you know me, then you might know that we just got back from a vacation in Disney World. Before anyone comes at me about this let me explain a few things. I planned this trip originally for November 2020 and pushed it back to January 2021 as I weighed the decision to continue going. I planned this trip in January 2020, before the pandemic hit and lockdowns etc. I got military tickets and Disney would not refund them so that is $1700 down the tubes. Also, my family is very careful. We don’t go out unless we need something minus a few outdoor trips, the kids don’t come in anywhere with us, we always wear our masks, we sanitize frequently and wash our hands frequently and correctly. On top of that, after weighing pros and cons of going, I felt that Disney World’s precautions made me feel safer than that of anywhere in our local area. And we decided to drive down and back because that seemed like the safer option for us as a family. I really shouldn’t have to explain this to anyone because I put a lot of thought into our decision to still go, but unfortunately I felt I should explain.

Yes, you read that correctly up there. We drove the (what’s supposed to be) 15.5 hours to Disney World, with three kids. This was our first family vacation ever. Last time I went to Disney, Joseph couldn’t come and we only had Mark. We thought that it would be a great idea to just drive through the night to get to Disney because our kids would just sleep and then wake up in Disney with no issues. We thought. Rose slept a lot of the night on the trip down only waking up every time I laid my head down, to scream for a few minutes before going back to sleep for a few hours. Mark slept for a few hours and then was his usual self and woke up at an ungodly time and stayed up for the rest of the trip, but caused no issues. Joey was the most cooperative out of all of them God bless his soul. The only issue we had was that on the way down when we got to the DC area Rose had a blow out and Joey had the closest to a blowout you can get without having one.

We arrived in Disney at a ripe 0930 and luckily got to check into the hotel early as requested, which is really what I was hoping for. We stayed at Art of Animation, which, we stayed at last time and I wanted to share with Joe because I loved it. It’s really such a fun resort for the kids. If you’ve never been, there’s four different sections with different themes. They areas are so accurate it really just transports you into the movies. There are Cars, Finding Nemo, Lion King, and Little Mermaid sections. Cars has this super cool pool area and the characters from the movie scattered throughout the area with very accurate decorations to transform the area. Finding Nemo has the seagulls outside the buildings who you can hear do the “Mine, mine, mine” thing every once in a while. It also has the big pool, water squirts for the kids, a bar, and a playground that’s like playing in the reef. Super cool, we stayed in that area last time. Lion King has the elephant graveyard as a playground, and then Little Mermaid is all the way on the end with a bunch of fun stuff from the movie to look at. It’s a really cool hotel and we decided this time to stay in one of the Cars suites.

The first day went shockingly well with Rose and Mark keeping their mask on the entire time we were at Disney Springs and cooperating pretty much the whole time. Rosie ran around Disney Springs and was just so full of life and excitement and wore herself out. It was great. Honestly the first 4 days were all really good. Obviously there are tantrums every once in a while, because, kids are kids and after being out and about for 6-9 hours it’s pretty exhausting.

For anyone wondering how we got our kids to keep their masks on. They got some really cool masks and got to wear a new one everyday. They got to pick most days which one they would get to wear. We just kept reiterating that they had to keep it on or they couldn’t go on the rides, or the bus, or walk around. We had a little difficulty with Rose keeping hers on as the week progressed because she’s only two. To combat that situation we just kept telling her how important it was. We made her put it on for rides, buses, and all that good stuff, but allowed her a few mask breaks because she just couldn’t handle it anymore. She wore her mask 85-90% of the time which is a lot better than I could have ever expected for a 2 year old to do for a week straight. Mark kept his on except for eating and drinking with little to no issues, which again, is great.

Day 5 and 6 were, to put it nicely, less than great on the tantrum and listening front. A lot more stopping in the middle of the walkway and refusing to move, the days where most of our mask issues happened, our fair share of blowouts, and a peeing our pants issue.

In the last few days Joey had two blowouts, one being while Joe and Mark were in Galaxy’s Edge riding Smuggler’s Run. I was all alone in the bathroom changing this blowout and trying to figure out how to rinse the clothes out without leaving Joey unattended. Thankfully I texted my mom and she came to the rescue and helped. Also thankfully, I pack multiple extra outfits in the diaper bag for emergencies. The good news is that the second I got him settled into his new outfit he pooped again while we were waiting for Muppets 3D. By the time we got out of that show I had a poop to change and Rose had leaked pee through her pants because of her full Pull-Up. In the end, rough in the moment but still a great day at Hollywood Studios.

See the two things that I wanted to do in Disney was eat in Epcot (specifically crepes, I’ve been craving them since I got pregnant with Joey), and mini golf. We tried every night to go to Epcot to get food and every night we failed for some reason. We got distracted or some other reason. Day 6 rolls around and we had tried to go mini golfing which immediately went downhill. Rose wouldn’t let Joe play. Mark likes to play “I win” so he was cheating. By the time we go to the 4th hole I was over it, but then Mark peed his pants on the 5th hole so it ended anyway. We went back to the car to head back to hotel, my dad made a joke and we all had a good laugh and then drove back. My parents went out and I was under no circumstances taking the kids to get crepes this time after our many failed attempts and this being our last chance. My parents came back and watched Mark and Rose (much like his father, Joey goes where the boobs go) while we went to get crepes and try to unwind. We by some miracle made it there and got crepes with 20 minutes to spare before park close. Let me tell you these crepes were well worth the wait. And you know you’ve made it in life when you’re sitting on a park bench in France with the love of your life eating crepes under a street lamp. It was a perfect way to end our trip.

The drive back home was… fun. We made a little detour and went to visit some family while we were around the area. Which was really fun and pulled the whole trip together. Unfortunately, it did add some time onto the drive back making it a whopping 20 hour drive home, with the stops. Little Miss Rosie screamed the entire last 18 hours of the drive because she was so tired but refuses to sleep if she’s not in her bed. Long story short, Rose has a raspy voice currently. She sounds like an old man trying to yell at the kids to get off his lawn. With that said, the drive home was definitely not as smooth as the drive down, but we managed. We made it home in one piece, thankfully, and made it home to a nice clean house. (I highly recommend cleaning your house, catching up on laundry and such, before you go on vacation. Trust me future you will appreciate it.)

I thought at one point that maybe we were crazy to go on vacation with three very small children. And in some moments when we were having rough moments I really really thought we were crazy for doing it. In the end though, it was so incredibly magical seeing our kids faces throughout the trip and the fun they were having. Looking back on it now, it was everything I hoped it would be, and more. Sure we had some of the happiest blowouts on Earth. Sure we had some of the happiest tantrums on Earth. But it all means nothing when you get to see the happiness on your kids faces. That wonder. Getting to see Disney through their eyes truly made it more magical than anything I’ve ever experienced.

Side note: If you’re going, make sure you check out the Baby Care Centers. There is one in every park. They are on the map. They are amazing and so worth it. They have a feeding room (which I surprisingly only used twice and just whipped out a boob willy nilly the rest of the time). They have nice cushioned changing tables in your own private room. They have sinks and a little kitchen area. And if you forgot anything they have diapers, bibs, baby snacks, clothes, formula, you name it there for you to pick up. Seriously, if you’re going, make sure you check it out, it’s such a lifesaver.

We had such a great trip and I hope that if you are questioning taking your small kids you make the jump and go, because it is really such a magical time. And don’t forget to get yourself some ears and a shoulder creature.

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Alright. I’ve been seeing a lot on social media lately relating to moms that is just, quite frankly, pissing me off. I’m honestly a little heated and I really want to share this with you. Just as a warning I’m very passionate about the topic that will follow so here we go, buckle up friends.

In the past few weeks I have see a lot of judgement regarding young moms. I have seen comments like “having kids is so much worse than (insert completely absurd comparison here)”. I have seen comments that in short say that it’s wrong to aspire to be a mother. It’s wrong to aspire to be a homemaker and wife. And I am here to tell you that those comments are a crock of absolute dog shit.

Lets start with young moms. I understand that this is not the norm currently to be a young mother. I also get that having a baby at an extremely young age is hard. Because being a mother is hard at any age. However, telling a woman in her 20’s who desires to be a mother that she is “too young” is bullshit. She is a grown adult. A woman. A human being that can make her own decision to be a mother. As long as you have the means to support a child, stop telling WOMEN that they are “too young” to have a child. Guess what? Not too long ago it was normal for women to have 3-4 kids by the time they hit their 20’s so stop trying to ostracize women for wanting to, or being, young mothers. You aren’t raising our children. You aren’t feeding them, playing with them, paying for them, or even around them, so stop. Next time you think about judging someone for being a young mother just take a look back at your family tree. I guarantee you won’t have to look too far to see one of your ancestors had a kid between 15 and 18.

Up next on the comment is wrong we have: telling people that having kids is worse than _______. It’s dumb. Having kids is not worse than having a period. Having kids doesn’t ruin your life. Having kids doesn’t stop you from traveling. Having kids doesn’t “ruin your 20’s”. Whatever you’re telling people having kids is going to stop them from doing or having kids is worse than, knock it the fuck off. Having children is hard. It is. It alters things in a lot of ways, yes. You may not be traveling by your own choice, but that doesn’t mean they are ruining anything or you can’t do things. Things are so much more enjoyable for me being able to travel and go on adventures with my kids. My life is so much fuller for it. No I didn’t ruin my 20’s by having my kids. I still can travel and I get to share those moments with my children and it’s great. A comment I actually saw was in regards to children being “way worse” than having a period every month. Fuck off dude. Children may not be for everyone, but if someone wants a child and is ready do not tell them something stupid like “kids are worse than a period”. Are you serious? Grow up!

Aspiring to be a mother. There is not a damn thing wrong with aspiring to be a mother. You don’t have to get a degree before you become a mom. You don’t. Is it nice to have? Sure. But if you aspire to be a wife, homemaker, and mother before you have a degree, or never get a degree, THAT IS OK! It’s also perfectly okay to aspire to be a mother and still want to work. It’s okay to be a homemaker, a wife, a mother, and a career woman. There is not a right or wrong way to become a mother. If you aspire to be a mother that is what you want. Don’t let anyone tell you that you are wrong for wanting to be a mom before you have a degree, or before this or that. Aspiring to be a mom is just as worthy a goal as getting a degree or a high paying job. If anyone tells you it’s not okay you send them over to me, because I will debate them until I’m blue in the face. It’s not okay to shame someone for having a different goal in life than what you or society deems “appropriate”.

On the flip side, don’t let anyone tell you that you’re too old to have kids. 30 isn’t old. Unless a medical professional tells you that your age is dangerous to have children then you’re not too old. I’m tired of people telling people not to have kids young and then two seconds later telling them that now they’re too old. Everyone moves at a different pace in life. People are so worried about others “wasting their 20’s” raising kids and then turn around and tell people that they should have kids now while they’ve decided to travel the world and build a career or a business.

It’s really very hypocritical and I for one, am tired of it. You can’t have it both ways. You can’t tell people they’re too young, then tell them they’re too old. You can’t tell them not to aspire to be a mom and then tell them they have to be a mom. You can’t tell people kids ruin whatever, and then say they’re the greatest gift. You can’t keep telling people to how to live their own lives! Just stop! Everyone moves at a different pace. Everyone has different goals. Everyone has their own life that you have no business putting in your input on. Stop telling people what to do or not, be or not be, and that they’re wrong. It is not your life. I repeat, It. Is. Not. Your. Life.

For those people on the receiving end of these comments. Tell them to screw off. You do you. Don’t feel ashamed because someone feels the need to butt in where they don’t belong. Your life and goals are your own and you don’t need to explain that to anyone. Do not let people try and dictate a life that they are not a part of. You don’t need to fall into societal “norms”. They’re dumb and not needed. Do what makes you comfortable and happy. Whether that be having kids at 20 or 35. Being a stay at home mom or a career mom. Traveling alone or traveling with a your kids and spouse. It is nobody else’s business but yours.

In the end I just want to say that kids don’t ruin your life. Being a parent is what you make of it. If you have it in your head that your kids are ruining your life then that’s on you. It makes me beyond angry when people tell me personally that my kids are in the way of me enjoying my 20’s. I enjoy my 20’s just fine running around in the backyard with my kids and doing all the things I love with my best friend and kids in tow. I love getting to share my 20’s with my kids and I refuse to let anyone make me believe that I’m wrong for having my kids young and absolutely knowing full heartedly that I wanted to be a mother and wife. You will not make me feel bad and I will fight anyone who tries.

Thank you for reading this and if you are one of those people who make those comments, correct yourself. Please and thank you. Be better. Stop shaming women for all their choices and grow up.

This is not your typical mom post by any means. This is not me rambling about being overwhelmed. This is not about my parenting. This is not about mom shaming. This is not any of your typical posts that come from me, but I need to write this down. I feel like a crazy person and this topic is haunting my dreams. Quite literally.

I know that dreams are a window into your subconscious. Your dreams and nightmares are likely trying to tell you something. For that reason most of my nightmares reflect my biggest fears involving my kids. Why my kids? Because I’m more afraid of something happening to them than anything else and my nightmares follow that pattern. Obviously that occasionally changes, but not very frequently and not for long.

I do have a lot more nightmares than dreams. I’ve had nightmares of abductions, house fires, robbers, all your typical fears as a mom. (At least I think, unless one of you tells me I’m crazy.) These fears don’t change. I’ll always be afraid of someone hurting my kids. Lately though, they’ve been a little different and I’m trying to figure out these nightmares.

So last month I had a “theme” for lack of a better word of people hunting down my children and I to hurt us. It was terrifying. It was graphic. And not at all the normal for me. Since then it’s just gotten stranger and more abnormal. My “theme” for this month has been very strange. The characters have changed throughout the month but the theme has stayed the same. And within the past week and a half it has been the same exact nightmare just with different settings. Different houses. Different areas. Same nightmare.

All this month I’ve had nightmares about people in my life getting possessed. Never me, but all of the people who surround me. But not even possessed. It’s like a demon makes an exact replica of that person and hides the actual person somewhere, or is just avoiding them throughout. The demon has that persons face and body, but no their demeanor, which is what ultimately helps me figure out that it’s not the person I know. My parents, Joe, my sister, my niece and nephew, they’ve all been in at least one of these nightmares.

To go into more detail with what’s stumping me though is the recurring one for the past week and a half. The one that’s the exact same nightmare in different settings. I’ll just explain the one I had last night.

So basically Joseph and I were living in this three story house, that also had a basement. Joseph and I went downstairs to the ground floor to get something before bed. In typical fashion our children followed us down and talked our ear off the whole time. I told Joe I was putting the kids to bed and went upstairs with them. The kids had this huge bed that they shared together in what looked like a master suite, which like, is odd but ok. Joey was not there, also, odd. So the three of us were waiting patiently in the kids room with the light on listening to Joe hit some golf balls. Then I heard him out in the hallway talking to children. Now I have had this nightmare before and for whatever reason I knew that in the nightmare that this had happened before. Joseph was telling the kids “what are you doing out here? I thought mommy was putting you to bed. You know you aren’t supposed to be out there”. I opened this giant double door into the hallway and just as I thought Joseph was out there talking to our actual children and the two in the bed were demons. I turned and looked at them and then woke up.

I have no idea what these demons want. I never figure it out. I always wake up before I get to that part. And for whatever reason the demons and possession isn’t even what scares me. I woke up last night after that, woke Joe up to talk it out so maybe I could sleep, but it just kept bugging me. Like I said, the possessions don’t scare me for whatever reason. What scares me is that in the nightmare I don’t know that the demons aren’t my kids. I don’t know that these things are impostors. And that terrifies me and disturbs me.

I would know if it wasn’t my child wouldn’t I? If something ever happened to my kids and someone replaced them I would know wouldn’t I? I’m a mother. I know my kids. I would know that it wasn’t them. I would know if it was in fact not my child standing in front of me right? For some reason this idea is haunting me. I know the likelihood of someone replacing my kids is so unbelievably low, so why does this scare me so much that I wouldn’t know that someone had done it? Is this playing into my fear that this world is such a scary place and children get abducted all the time? Is it because I’ve read one too many story about a child that got abducted and the wrong child was “rescued” and returned to the parents several years later? I don’t know. I really don’t know. But the idea of not knowing if my own kids are standing in front of me or not truly shakes me to my core. What kind of mother doesn’t know her own kids, right?

Ideally, I’d like to stop having nightmares. That’s unlikely though, so right now I just want to figure this out. I want the thought to stop haunting me. I want to figure out the root of this particular nightmare “theme”. This one really has me stumped. What kind of nightmares do other mothers have? Am I a complete weirdo? Are my nightmares like off the wall? What is going on in that brain of mine? What is it trying to tell me? I just need to figure this out, because it’s not the newborn that’s keeping me up at night.

Being a mother of three has proven to be a humbling experience thus far. One second I feel like the best mom in the world and the next I feel like I’m screwing my kids up and they’re never going to forgive me. One day I’ll find myself being so attentive making them these nutritious meals and planning activities and teaching them new things. Then the next day I’m letting them eat cheesecake for dinner and spending all my time trying to catch my breath and do a million things around the house, and only realizing as I lay down for bed that night that I ignored them all day.

When I was parenting two kids pretty much alone, I pretty consistently felt like I had it all under control. At least I made myself think that on the outside even when deep down I felt like I had nothing under control. I made it a point with just Mark and Rose to give them both their own special time, whether it was snuggles, a book, or an activity they liked (dancing mostly). When I found out I was pregnant again I thought “oh it’ll be just as easy to do this with three as it is with the two of them”. I must have forgotten how needy newborns are, or maybe I was just naïve. I kind of feel like I set myself up for failure in not thinking that I would need to change my schedule. Thinking that the same schedule for two would work for three.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m starting to kind of figure it out, but the first few months have been a hard adjustment. Especially with breastfeeding where I’m the sole person who can feed the baby. It’s hard to try and make time for Mark and Rose when at the drop of a hat a small child could be in a full on panic thinking that he’ll never eat again because there wasn’t immediately a titty in his mouth the absolute first second that he thought he might possibly be hungry.

The past couple of weeks I finally starting getting used to giving each child their own personal time when everything in our house starting breaking or needing attention, and life starting happening again. I mean I have had not a thing to do for the past 3ish months other than be a full time mom and wife, so when things started getting busy and complicated my little engine got a wrench thrown into it and it started to sputter. I mean I could only handle so much. So I had just gotten used to giving everyone their time and then had to focus on getting life together. It’s easy to get overwhelmed when things start breaking, you have to cook and clean, there’s kids who need time and attention, a husband who should also get time and attention, and just generally being a homemaker with other stuff going on.

So this week I’ve been trying so hard to get back into it. I’ve been trying to give Joe time to take the two older kids out to play so I can have some quality time with Joey. In turn I also take time to snuggle with just Mark, or Rose separately or do an activity. This week I’ve made time to dance with Rose and teach her the alphabet. I’ve also taken the time to play cars with Mark and read some books to him. I also think it’s still really important to spend time with Mark and Rose without Joey. So tonight we plan on having a sleepover in our room in a tent. They’re really excited which makes me feel like I’m succeeding today.

The past weeks have also been really important to me to have time as a whole family. We have been looking at Christmas lights. We have gone to the zoo. We like to go on walks as a family, whether at the seawall or just on the path behind our house. We’ve also been spending a lot of time in the backyard as a family. I think it’s really important to nurture all of the relationships in the family as well as build a new, healthy family dynamic. Still, sometimes I feel like I’m still a little in over my head as I have to adjust to a new family dynamic myself.

Some things specifically I find myself struggling to manage adjusting from two to three. We were potty training Rose before Joey arrived and it’s been really hard for me to give that the focus it needs and deserves. I also find myself losing my patience with Mark particularly and it makes me feel like a complete failure as a mom. I hate losing my patience with Mark and Rose, but particularly Mark because since he is older I convinced myself that he knows better. When in reality, he’s still only 4 years old and doesn’t really know that much better. In general, losing your patience with your kids as a mom is kind of crushing, but when I realize I’m losing it more with one over the other (and sometimes I’m rougher on Rose too) it feels really shitty.

After me saying all that, this may come as a shock, I genuinely believe that it’s been an easier adjustment period to go from two to three than any other adjustment. Adjusting from being a married couple to parents was so incredibly difficult. Then adjusting to a family of three to four got so much easier. Which seems silly thinking about how having a toddler and a newborn was easier than just focusing on a newborn, but I don’t make the rules, it was just easier for us. And even sillier, it’s even easier to have two toddlers and newborn than it was to have one toddler and a newborn. Maybe I should take up juggling.

Anyway, I’m still adjusting to having three kids and some days are better than others. Some days I feel like super mom and other days I feel like I’d be better off taking a vacation and letting the kids have some time away from me. Some days I can make three square meals a day from scratch and others I skip meals and everyone else gets peanut butter sandwiches for two of the three meals. And that’s fine. Maybe that’s just a part of motherhood that I never noticed before until now. Now that I’m taking time to reflect on things I feel like I’m noticing more.

If you have three or more kids what are some things you’ve noticed when transitioning to the addition of a child? What helps you make special time with each of your kids? What are some one on one activities you recommend? I’m hoping that I can get back into my routine here soon and feel like a more consistently good mom. I’m far too hard on myself and I realize that when my kids just look at me like I’m the best thing since sliced bread, even on my bad days. Here’s to balancing better and feeling better about myself.

I’m sorry if this was very rambling. Bear with me please. And please please please if you have any advice please share. Or need advice. I’m an open book and my Instagram, email, or Facebook is always open.