Romance Me

I found this gem of a novel in the sale section of a library bookshelf a few years ago, and it opened my eyes to why romance novels were so popular. I recently found this book hidden among the hoard of nursing textbooks I had tucked away, and reading it immediately made me fall in love with books again. I also found out that this book is number TWO in a series of ELEVEN. I’ve FINALLY finished them, and needless to say I’ve fallen in love with a character. This has also reignited this spark I have for this southern, country, rustic life. More than that, it sparked this hunger deep within me. This hunger for romance.

Yes, the idea of romance is different for many. I used to love being wined and dined; seeing a side of someone you’re not familiar with. You’re dating this person and these dates and spending time with them brings you closer and closer to knowing them. But what’s romance supposed to look like when you’re 3 years of marriage and 2 kids deep? It’s definitely not a butt grab or a boob squeeze. It’s not an “I love you” gaze before bed. It’s not even a dinner alone without the kids in an attempt to “remember” who we were before the kids. I think I’m beginning to think my idea of romance is a clean sink, empty dishwasher. It’s finding that your phone has been plugged in after you passed out trying to stay awake for your hubby to come up to bed. It’s having him watch the kids while I sneak away to do some work. It’s him still trying to cop a feel before bed even though he’s seen my body do things I wouldn’t want to see myself.

As much as I miss being romanced with the obvious depths of planning put into a date, the scintillating conversations of life and the possibilities of the future, and the build up of sexual tension, I don’t think this type of romance is bad at all. It’s a little different.. but not so bad at all. It’s definitely a lot less work.

Tired of Being Tired

Tired of worrying about everything. All the time.
Tired of trying to make sure I’m doing things okay when I’m obviously not.
Tired of trying to do things “my” way when there are so many other things to consider.
Tired of getting so angry when these said plans inevitably fail.
Tired of feeling like my life isn’t my own.
Tired of never getting a moment alone that isn’t guilt-ridden or saturated with failure.
Tired of putting my entire life on the back burner.
Tired of trying to “get things together” when a new thing comes up every day.
Tired of always having other people on my mind.
Tired of constantly asking for help.
Tired of feeling like I’m always so lonely and in need of companionship.
Tired of everything.

Maybe it’s the tiredness.
Maybe I’m just getting to that point in the week where I’ve reached my limit.
Maybe I’m just tired of feeling so beat up, and I’m just over it.
I just don’t want to keep doing this day after day, hour after hour anymore.
I’m just so tired.
I really just don’t want to anymore.

Expectations VS Reality

I’m following someone from my past who just recently had a baby. She had a difficult birth and since her first wasn’t the ideal birth she envisioned, the second was a bit harder to handle it seems since she had all these expectations of what and how she wanted it to be the second time around. She’s very much immersed into the whole motherhood and body thing where she’s all about being in tune with her body during her whole pregnancy and is very into the whole natural birthing wonder of the human body. Her baby had some difficulty after birth and had to spend a few weeks in the NICU. I know she’s probably just venting on Facebook, a space where she’s surrounded by friends and family and a wonderful support group, but as an acquaintance who also went through some difficulty after birth, it’s a tad frustrating to read through these comments of what she thought things would be like and how they are supposed to be and how disappointed and frustrated she is with reality. Like, we get it. You can’t spend the time you want with your older son in this beautiful weather because your little one is taking up so much of your time. I get what it’s like to be cooped up at home and not get some fresh air because you’re just busy with a baby whose sole mission in its little life so far is to make you miserable and hate yourself with inconsolable crying. I get that life was difficult and disappointing and nothing like you imagined it when your baby was in the NICU and whisked away from you after birth. BUT YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONE. I think I’m more sensitive to her postings because I went through it too, but never venting about it on Facebook and only a few close people know about Shane and his struggles. I think I’m just annoyed because I feel as though she has all these expectations about how motherhood should be – the adorable hours of intoxicating baby smells and cuddles, the dreamy closeness you get when you’re breastfeeding, and the magical feeling you get when you’re baby wearing and able to function in public with the use of both your hands. BUT THESE ARE NOT EVEN REAL EXPECTATIONS. THESE ARE EXPECTATIONS CULTIVATED BY THE MEDIA AND SOCIETY. YOU AREN’T DOING ANYTHING WRONG IF YOU’RE SPENDING DAYS AT HOME WITHOUT SHOWERING BECAUSE YOUR BABY WON’T STOP CRYING FOR LONGER THAN 10 MINUTES IN STRETCHES OF HOURS. YOU’RE NOT GOING TO MISS OUT ON BONDING MOMENTS IF YOU DON’T BREASTFEED. YOU DON’T NEED TO FEEL LIKE SHIT IF YOU PUT YOUR OLDER CHILD UP IN FRONT OF A TV WHEN YOU’RE CARING FOR A BABY OR IF YOUR CHILD FALLS IN THE PLAYGROUND AND YOU’RE NOT THERE IN TWO SECONDS TO PICK HIM UP BECAUSE YOUR HANDS ARE FULL WITH ANOTHER BABY. YOU’RE NOT A FAILURE BECAUSE OF ANY OF THIS. WE’RE ALL JUST SURVIVING. WE’RE ALL JUST TRYING TO GET AS MUCH SLEEP AS WE CAN WHILE WE TRY TO FIND OURSELVES IN THIS NEW ROLE AS A MOTHER (OF MULTIPLES). WE’RE ALL TRYING TO FIND A SWEET SPOT WHERE WE TEETER ON THE BRINK OF HAPPINESS/SANITY AND COMPLETE, UTTER MADNESS.

I’m just tired. And annoyed.
All I really have to do is UNFOLLOW.

I am actually really happy for her. She has a wonderful social media following and feels comfortable enough to share all her worries on her page. Some days I wish I had that. Others, I am just grateful for the support system I have now.

Different Day, Similar Shit

Wake up. See who’s awake (spoiler – most days, both are). Check diapers. Change diapers. Shower. Bring babies down. Bottles. TV show of the day (Cat in the Hat, Octonauts, Phineas and Ferb). Make coffee. Drink coffee. Sift through emails and go through voicemails for work. Snack / lunch (bananas, cheese, sandwich, more milk, yogurt). NAPS. I get some work and paperwork and organizing of the life done. Then – home stretch – the grandparents and the daddy come home. Dinner. Bath. Mosey until bedtime.

MODIFIED SCHEDULE:
INSTEAD OF NAPS… Now, Dom naps while Shane rolls around the couch and living room munching on some snacks while half watching a TV show. Eventually his random shouts of excitement wake Dom up who in turn is brought downstairs if I am unable to put him back to sleep. Shane is left upstairs to nap. After a few minutes of protesting and crying, he goes quiet and passes out. Dom then is left to run around the living room requiring my constant attention until Shane eventually wakes up. Then both are rolling around the living room cranky and upset because they are both tired.
INSTEAD OF SMOOTH BATH TIMES… Since we have begun the exciting adventure of potty training, there have been multiple accidents in the potty both from the young one and the one we are attempting to potty train. Thus draining of the water, cleaning of the tub, rinsing of the babies, and re-filling the tub has been a frequent process.

Literally the same fights, the same conversations, the same everything. Just different days. Slightly different adventures. I’m just so freaking tired of repeating myself over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. And, yes, I know they’re just kids and that’s my job as a parent to reinforce the same things over and over and over again since that is how they learn. But I’m seriously losing my freaking mind. How many more days do I have to say “Toothbrush is for brushing teeth, not toilet” and “No kicking Mommy during diaper time”? I’m so over it most days. There is no coffee strong enough to fuel this shit.

Mommy Groups

Today, a SAHM group on FB threatened to delete its members who were not actively participating in going to events on a regular basis. Regular being at least once a week, it seemed like. Apparently in the few months this group had been established, I had not been to enough meetings. In all fairness, I had not gone to any. I attempted to go out to one play date hosted at a member’s house, but due to the inclement weather and car switches with the hubby, I wasn’t able to make it. The creator of the group is a great person, I’m sure, and she’s only making sure the group is working as its intent was set out to be. I would have loved to go to many events, but it’s a bit difficult to keep an eye on two extremely accident-prone toddler boys who don’t understand the meaning of danger. “We help each other look out for each others’ kids” is always a comment that is thrown around, but honestly.. let’s be real. When you’re busy looking after your own, how can you have time to look after another? Are you secretly a land octopus hiding your other 6 arms? Do you have extra eyes I’m unaware of? People throw that phrase around, but I don’t think anyone really understands how ridiculous that phrase is. The boys get hurt at home under the watchful eye of three adults. If you are not resolved to the idea of hunkering down and literally watching the kids every single second, don’t even offer. It’s insulting and plain silly. You can’t “help watch” my first kid who is probably trying to go down the stupidly high slide when I’m wrestling the second kid down from the stairs he’s climbing on the jungle gym on the outdoor playground you decided to hold this event at and when your own child is sitting in your lap. I even made the comment that I would try to be more proactive in responding to posts and in trying to come out to more events and actually post some ideas of meeting more of the group members, but she then rebutted with “[unless I actually see a change, I have to start deleting people for the greater good of the group]”. (And I’m completely paraphrasing because I’m annoyed and petty and I left the group so I can’t retrieve the actual quote she used.) Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize this was an obligation. I thought the purpose of this group was to make friends. I don’t need friends who get their panties in a ball if I can’t see them for a few months. I don’t need anyone making me feel like shit for not being as active as them. I don’t need “friends” who judge me based on how many times I see them and about the “effort” it seems like I put in in being social. And they wonder why mommy friends are so fucking hard to make. Because we’re all so fucking emotional. And because some people just don’t mesh together and the fact that you’re both mommies don’t make things all magically better and compatible. I’m beginning to truly disengage from even trying to make mommy friends. Maybe I’ll begin when the kids are in school and then it’ll be the obligatory mommy friends because our kids are friends. I realize this rant has gotten increasingly mean and rude. I know the creator of the group was only trying to make sure the group was being used as it was supposed to be in her mind. But it doesn’t make me feel any better at the moment. Please excuse my rage venting about this.

This Is For Real

I’ve got emotion, dripping out my pores, and I thought I would let you know

This song always takes me back to when I was a freshman in college sitting in the laundry room with some dude who was also doing laundry at 2am. We would meet every week or so in the wee hours of the morning as we were both night owls at the time. We were exchanging emo/alternative music selections, discussing the endless possibilities we had for our futures. We would philosophize. We would laugh. We would banter. Ah, the simpler days.

Some days I wish the days were simpler like before. Some days I wish all I had to do was fend for myself, think for myself, and plan only for myself. But when I think about the person I was then and the person I am now, everything makes sense. I couldn’t have possible become this (though it may not seem it to you) strong, moderately confident and optimistic, sometimes hopeful person I am today if I didn’t go through the trials and experiences I had then. I could not have become this person if I didn’t struggle through my insecurities. If I never went through the self hatred and the depression, I could never had realized the depths of love I was capable of. Without the ridiculously overwhelming self awareness, almost crippling fear of being in public spaces, and conversing with others, I would never have found this new self awareness of not giving a crap.

But some days I do wish I could go and stay in a hole at home. Some days I just really do not care to converse with others whether those “others” be friends or randos. Other days, I crave human interaction so badly that I’m willing to make a day trip out to the mall or Target. This balancing act is stupid hard. I think life just really changes so drastically as a parent. It just gets harder and harder to keep up with life outside of kids. And I know there’s a whole “Make sure you’re taking a little me time” or “Make sure you’re having regular date nights with the hubby without kids so you keep your marriage okay” or whatnot. But.. honestly, I think we’ve been without the kids a total of five times since Dominic has been born. And that was to attend weddings and a few mini trips out for errands. I don’t mind having babies with us when we’re out. Definitely much harder, but I don’t mind it. I spend enough time with the hubby at night before bed. I force him to spend time with us on his precious weekends off. I think I have enough of him for now. I think we’re doing okay. For now. I feel like I’m finally filling into my role as a parent. I think we’ve gotten a little bit of a (very loosely stated) routine down in regards to our schedules. I’m finally in a bit of a better mental state. I think I’m at an age where I’m finally owning up to what I want to do versus what I need to be doing.

Reminders of Love

The other day, my husband came back after running a wonderfully nerdy errand for me at the public library. He decided to pick up some food and a secret surprise of COFFEE on the way back home. He then proceeded to tell me how he noticed someone in NICU scrubs at Starbucks. She was looking a bit defeated so he went up and chatted with her for a bit. Apparently, she had started her job at the NICU around the time Shane was there! What a coinky-dink! He chatted a little bit more with her and bought her a $20 gift card to help put a smile on her face as she went into work that evening.

That moment – when he was talking about how he hopes he made her day a little better – reminded me of why I fell in love with him. Every time he brings home a sleeve of Oreos when he knows I’ve had a bad day or makes sure I get my coffee in the mornings if we’re out on an outing, he reminds me of his goodness. Every time he gets up and helps me with babies’ baths or whatever – even if it is begrudgingly, he reminds me of his kindness.

He’s a sweetie, my hubby.