Days In, Days Out

Days all feel the same.

Making sure kids don’t get hurt. Making sure they’re fed. Trying to make sure they’re getting sleep. Trying to find the middle ground between screaming at them and letting them become more independent. Trying to care about work enough to make sure shit gets done, but also make sure you’re not stressing about work too much to the point where it’s taking away from your ability to parent. Actually making sure you’re doing enough work to make sure you feel you’re actually earning that paycheck and you’re not doing too much that you don’t think your paycheck is enough. Making sure you’re doing something for your husband that makes him know you love him, but also making sure you don’t actually emasculate him or berate him with your words when you’re upset or frustrated. Making sure your husband actually feels like an equal partner in this parenting thing and life thing rather than just being in it for the ride. Making sure your parents are happy. Making sure you’re being respectful and not too big of a brat. Making sure your parents feel like they’re valued and know that they are loved and that we are grateful for everything, but also trying to mold your own identity as a parent, wife, and person. Making sure you’re keeping in touch with friends even though you never see them. Making sure you’re doing enough for your kids that you’re not messing them up psychologically or emotionally for life.

There’s just so much noise. So much noise in my head and I can’t sometimes. I can’t think. I can’t function. I can’t tune them all out. All the days are the same and blend in together.

“How are you?”

I have absolutely no fucking idea. 

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New Year Resolutions

Convincing myself that I can become a better person. Once again. For the upcoming year. Sigh..

Every year I make the same resolution – try to become a better person. Sleep more. Sleep better. Yell less. Meditate. Ground my soul. Exercise. Eat healthier. Become a better parent. Become someone I want to be proud of looking back on the year when the year’s end comes around.

Year 2017 accomplishments:
We are all still here and surviving through the hell of infant hood to toddler hood.
We have become a stronger family and are doing better in communicating with one another.
We are learning how to become better people every day for the sake of our sanity and our relationships with friends and family.

Resolution for the new year:
Survive.

Bloggy Blogger

I really should begin writing again. I should really get back into venting to myself. I feel like it helped me clear my mind and get my thoughts a bit together.

I think things are just never what we think we want them to be. I feel like every time we feel like we’re getting our feet on relatively solid ground, we’re shifted again to wet sand. I’m just tired. Just so tired fighting it. Trying to fight for my way when clearly that’s not His plan. He has something greater in mind for us and I think I’m still having a hard time having faith and trust in that plan. I need to make my home a safe place again where my head is clear and I actually want to be there and have a place to recharge my mind and soul instead of being completely overrun with to-dos and clutter.

“Even if You don’t, my hope is You alone”

Times are really trying recently. I don’t feel like I’m in the right head space most of the time. I feel like I’m stuck in a place where I’m supposed to be going and where I should be. I feel like I’m settling, but still fighting. I feel.. angry. I feel frustrated. I feel.. all around hopeless, I guess. And it’s a silly place to be because I am where I’m supposed to be. I am where I am called to be at this moment. But I don’t know why I’m still fighting it so. We’re all called to do different things. We’re all.. meant to be someone. And that someone may not be the someone you thought you wanted to be. Maybe I’m just hopped up on these period hormones. Maybe I’m just sleep deprived and coming down from a sugar binge. But every day has just been waves upon waves upon waves just crashing down. Every minute, every hour. It’s something. Whether it’s the 15 minutes repeating to the kids to put their pants on only to have them rip them right off 15 minutes later or whether it’s the dog or cat marking territory or having accidents when they don’t get enough attention, I feel like I’m always on watch. I can’t step away for a moment because in that single moment I have eyes away from the babies (fur babies included), they find something new to wreck. I need to be 100% with all of four of them all the time. Hearing the cat scratching on the floor means he more than likely peed outside his litter box. Not getting home before 4pm almost always guarantees an accident from the dog. Turn your eyes away from the kids for a moment and they’ve gotten a hand on knives or flung their feces across the room. I’m just… not sure I’ve been called to do the right thing. I don’t think I’m cut out for this. And, I know, this stage doesn’t last forever. But it’s really, really challenging. And, yes, I know every mother out there is probably going through the same thing and I’m just whining and griping about this universally difficult feat which in turn makes me almost always feel worse. Knowing I’m failing more than others. Or is it that all mothers are miserably failing but some are just more adept at hiding it from others?

Thus Begins The Descent

I feel like I’m going crazy. Let’s be real. I am going crazy.

Blame it on the lack of sleep. Blame it on the kids. Blame it on the lack of adult communication. But I don’t think I’m okay. I don’t know if I ever was okay. Not only am I in a constant crisis of searching for an identity, I am actually not sure if I ever had one. As I delve deeper into this social psychology class, I don’t even know if I identify with a group which apparently is super important in evolving as a person.

I had yet another melt down today. Except this time I actually thought about running away. Seriously. I thought about packing a bag and going to the gym for a few hours to clear my head since running away to Bora Bora wasn’t an option. I’m just so sick and tired of repeating my days and my words over and over and over again to these kids. It’s as if they’re falling on deaf ears. And, before you say it, I know. I know this is what being a parent is all about. Tolerating them through their mistakes and growing pains until they get it right. But that feels like it’ll happen in five billion light years. I’m tired of being on-call every single minute, every single second of every day. Seriously.

You turn around for one second and Dom has his hands on scissors. You turn around to handle that and Shane has taken off his pants and diaper. You turn around to take care of that issue and Dom has gotten a hold of a car track and chasing Donte around the living room trying to hit him over the head. You handle that and Shane has climbed a chair to try to get to the leftover Goldfish and smoothie on the table. You get him off safely and Dom is now climbing the hubby’s computer chair and pounding away on the keys. I’m just really, really, really tired. Tired of life. Tired of existing solely to have eyes on two danger-loving toddlers who seem to love going diaper-less but are not yet potty trained. All day. From the second their little eyes open to the very long hours their little bodies finally fall asleep.

I’m just tired of answering the same questions from my parents about the kids and life. I’m tired of justifying every aspect of my life to my parents. I’m tired of saying “I’m okay” when I’m really not only because there’s nothing anybody can really do to help. I’m tired of constantly feeling like I’m failing at life. I’m tired of feeling like I’m just wasting everyone’s time and energy in existing when I fail as a mother, wife, and daughter. Every few days or so, I end up going to a really dark place which has been taking me longer and longer to get out of. But during those good few days, they’re great. They remind me why I love where I am. They remind me that these moments too shall pass. They remind me that if I can just get through those dark patches, I will come back and continue fighting through the obscurity that is this stage of life.

But I guess for now I’ll just keep praying that He gives me the strength to make it through these

Something’s gotta give

Scheduler. Mother. Wife. Daughter. Student. Friend. Me.

Something’s gotta give.

I can’t. I can’t be everywhere and be there for everyone. I can’t be who I need to be for everyone. I can’t. I suppose the concrete identities I have to keep are the roles of mother, wife, and daughter. I suppose I could give up being a student and scheduler. Giving up being a scheduler isn’t so awful although keeping it could help bring a little money in. Giving up being a student is a bit more difficult since being a student propels me towards a path I would like to take to find out who I am, but I suppose that’s also something I can do later down the road as well.

I used to pity those mothers who put their entire lives on hold for years and years all for the sake of their children. Like they don’t have lives. Like their entire lives are their children. And all that pressure just amasses into something huge which could snowball into some serious resentment in the future. But lo and behold – I have become one of those pitiful people. Not that they are really pitiful; it’s actually quite a powerful and brave thing to do. To step up for the family. To become something they needed rather than who and what she wanted to become or was or is.

But I don’t think I’m that strong. I don’t think I can handle abandoning or shelving who I am for my family. Am I? Should I be? Could I be?

1 Peter 5:7

“Cast all your anxieties on Him because He cares for you.” 

Give it all to Him. He can take it. He knows where He wants you and He will lead you. There is no use in fretting over the little things of the world when He takes care of all. He takes care of the smallest creatures of this land. How can I have such a difficult time putting my trust in Him? Why do I fret and worry over the littlest things? Why do I allow myself to feel such anger and frustration over such trivial matters? My brain knows to not allow myself to be so easily frustrated. But my heart and emotions just sky rocket so easily. I really need time to myself. To reflect. To find myself. To really.. just be.

Carving out time to myself to fill myself up with His Word is really difficult with Hulu and Netflix. I keep telling myself that I will begin serious devotions and reflection tomorrow, but every evening it seems that after an episode or two of Rizzoli and Isles, it’s 1130pm and time for bed. Maybe tomorrow.. maybe tomorrow.