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.

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

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.