A day.

I want to say that today was bad.  That it was harder than usual.  That tomorrow will be not as bad.  To be optimistic.  

But it’s not going to happen.  Today was how the last couple months have been:  draining, daunting, and seemingly endless.  Full of me losing my temper, lots of crying (not from me… today), and just everything I deem horrible right now:  messes, sticky hands, constant question asking, fighting, dry kidney beans all over the floor.  I’m  having a hard time finding the positives in life right now.

Zoe is having a hard time adjusting to Boaz, and I’m having a hard time adjusting to her adjustment period.  She’s regressed in just about every area– including, within the last couple weeks, potty training!  Hurray!  What I thought would be the last straw for me is just another hay bale strapped to my back.  No big deal.  I don’t know how to connect with her; and, when I try to read different ideas or gather ones from friends/wiser folks and implement them, I just want to jump off our roof.  Part of the problem is me:  I have a hard time keeping a stiff upper lip and try, try again-ing.  Part of it is nothing seems to work.  But, after reading this, I started trying to hold her when she’s upset instead of sending her away from me.  That doesn’t seem to “work” (like, stop the screaming), but I’m willing to try that to help her feel like I don’t hate her when she cries.  So I count that as the only positive thing I’ve learned.  (But if you have advice, consider this as solicitation.  I accept any and all advice at this time.)

Right now is a hard time.  I’m not convinced it’ll ever end, though, which is starting to take it’s emotional wear.  I’ve now started my smart coping technique of picking fights with Joe.  Genius, I know.  But heaven forbid I start crying because of how scared and sad I feel right now because of my flipping 4 year old.  UGH.  

I have so much more to say about this, but I’m too tired.  Please figure out a solution for me, and then come in my home and make it work.  KTHXBIEEEE.

Three kids

If you know me, you know I have 3 kids.  You may also know that I’m 26.  Every once in a while, these two things blow me away.  This is not how I imagined life at 26.  Actually, I don’t think I ever had any idea what I’d be doing past 19.  And that was when I was 19.

I’m a fatalist, friends.  What does that mean?  It means, for me, I don’t see very far into the future.  Sometimes I try to have a great, positive (Christian?) outlook  for the years to come… but I can’t do it.  It’s all fog and haze and maybe I need new glasses?  So, when I was 19 and tried to look forward, I didn’t imagine much for 26.  Maybe I thought I’d be married?  But I don’t remember caring much about getting married.  I definitely didn’t think about kids ever.  I seriously used to be scared of babies.  They just freaked me out.  They’re tiny!  and fragile!  with a soft spot!  DO NOT TOUCH BABIES.

But, here I am.  I’m onto my 3rd baby, and I’m not very scared of doing much with him.  (I mean as far as dropping him goes.  After you see one baby fall off the couch, you’re slightly more and less afraid at the same time.)  I know how to take care of an infant; how to help a toddler up the stairs; how to help a preschooler scribble and color.  I’ve changed diapers ad nauseum; offered countless turned down dinner plates; cleaned a million sticky fingers.  And I still don’t feel like a mom.

I mean:  I am a mom.  Or mommy.  Or mama.  I am one of those.  I do the things moms do and have children to call my own; but I can’t seem to figure out what I’m supposed to feel.  How do you feel like a mom?

I think part of my problem is that this mothering thing is pretty hard for me.  It takes a lot of patience and care and gentleness and enthusiasm and listening.  Some of those I can do somewhat easily; others are less natural for me.  It takes a lot of control for me to, say, not roll my eyes at my 4 year old when she spills her entire plate because she was engrossed in something other than walking; or to answer the same question over and over and over and over from my 2 year old without telling him to shut up.  Yeah, I’m not a natural-born mother.

Then again, I am.  Right?  I mean, here I am:  Mother.  It sort of feels like a shirt that’s a bit too snug; maybe if I lost something it’d fit better.  But I’m still holding on to being what I once could easily be:  selfish and petty and ugly and mean and controlling and flippant and lazy.  Why should I give those up for my little blessings?  Why can’t I just be the way that comes easily to me?

This stuff– this letting go type stuff– is hard.  It’s hard to see a constant furrow on your face and not wonder what it does to your kids.  So I’m trying to let go.  To give my kids a kind, gentle, loving, patient, soft mother even if I don’t always want to be her.  And maybe I’ll keep trying to be her, and, one day, wake up and find I actually am her.   Fake it ’til you make it, right?  RIGHT?!

I am still alive.

Friends, I made it through that pregnancy.  Now I have an adorable little (nearly) 3 month old added to my current collection of children.  It feels so good to not be pregnant; I don’t think I can adequately describe how horrible I felt by the end of it.  Not to mention the fact that Bo didn’t come until 10 days after his “due date”, and I was really starting to doubt that he was ever going to exit my womb.

But, he did.  And, here we are.  I’m still struggling (or drowning might be a more accurate picture) trying to figure out what I want, who I am, all that “1/4 life crisis” crap.  Luckily, now, I’m not 25 anymore.  I managed to make it all the way to 26– all while keeping two kids alive and bringing a third into this (only sometimes hellacious) world.  I still really like using parentheses.  I try to stay grounded like that.

Anyway, the struggle.  Guys.  It’s an uphill battle with 30 plus pounds of baggage strapped on my back.  I oscillate between passionately loving my life and wanting to walk away from everything.  Did I mention I feel no guilt about those feelings?  Just kidding.  I feel guilty all the time!

All that to say:  I’m trying blogging again.  I still don’t know that I do anything interesting enough to warrant it, but I’m still doing it.  Everyone can suck it.  (Probably no one says that anymore, right?  I still do.  Yet another way I stay grounded and true to myself.)  Actually, don’t.  But read my blog.  And whatever.  Tell me how to become an adult.  Please.  Someone?