For My Mom.

Being a Mom can be very, very lonely.

Spend all day, not being alone, yet feel lonely.
This statement pretty much sums up parenting for me right now.
I'm so friggin' sick of hearing my name being called (x3), that sometimes I yell.
Just out of sheer frustration, and the fact that I'm lonely, and sad sometimes, and this Mom gig isn't anywhere near as glamorous as any of us thought it would be.
I'm not looking for pity, or someone to offer help.
We don't become Moms for the praise or accolades, (beleeeeeeeee me, there ain't none!)  And we can't expect help once we have our children either.
These babes were our doing.

I'm just tired.

Someone is always sick.
We haven't had a full nights sleep in over 6 years, and although we have a fair amount of help, both family and the dayhome, it seems we're always busy, and fizzling out at a rapid pace some days.

We do our best not to schedule activities for anyone during school days.  Friday evening and Saturday morning are busy, but in comparison to loads of other families, we're not a super "scheduled" family.

I am an introvert,  and I don't like to have a week full of appointments and engagements and play dates and kids activities.  I like to stay home.  I like to hang out with my own crew.

Sometimes I just need to vent, and unfortunately, little ears aren't very sympathetic to my plight, nor should they be subjected to my stresses, as they have their own tiny anxieties to deal with.

Having two children is difficult, but I've found the transition from two to three the most difficult.
Even when both my husband and I are home, with three, we are outnumbered.

When they're getting along, which is rare, it's kinda wonderful, in a magical, blockbuster movie kinda way.

This long, meandering blog was intended to be a note of gratitude to my Mom.
And it is.
If you read between the lines, of the stresses and perils of my Motherhood journey, you will see that I am the Mom I am, because of the one I had.
I think I am a good Mom.  I do the best I can, with the tools I have, in the moment.

We are who we are, because they were who they were.
Resonates.
Speaks to me in a way it never could before I had a family.

My Mom was young.  She was 10 years younger than I was when she had her first baby.
I don't remember thinking she was drowning.  I can't recall a time when she cried in front of us.  Not one of my memories is of her showing any sign of stress of anguish over parenting.

The thing is, though, that she was feeling all of the things I am writing about.

Parenting is so, so hard.
There are no breaks, it doesn't get easier, and there are no rules or guidelines for your children.
Almost everyday has a little bit of ugly, and lots of beauty.
I want to thank my Mom for doing it for us.
Thanks, Mom.
For going through the motions, when you left your 'A' game behind that day, and we didn't have a clue.
For having sh*t happen in your life and tucking it away for the day, because being a Mom can't wait.
For spending the time learning how to parent, when you didn't know how.
For sometimes going without, so we never knew anything was missing.
For making countless breakfasts, lunches, snacks on snacks on snacks...
For years of bathtime and dressings and hair brushings.
For dentist and doctor appointments, hair appointments, specialist appointments, and late night emergency visits.
For sometimes smiling and still being patient and kind, when you were so tired and worn out and wanted to cry.
For being the gentle, but assertive reassurance after a day of being bullied.

Thanks, Mom.
I get it now.