Sometimes Life Gets in the Way

Have you ever realized that sometimes, life gets in the way of all the things we want to do?  I want to be a good and consistent blogger.  I enjoy writing and hope that my writing can help just one person.  If so, then it's all worth it. 

But sometimes, that Life thing gets in the way.  These last few weeks, life has been both my joy and my irritation.  I have attended school events, parties, practices for the church musical, dinners, visited with friends from out of town and all other fun things that take up time.  But I've also been doing a lot of laundry, dishes, spring cleaning, organizing, and other not-so-fun things that have taken my time.  And one thing that hasn't taken much time?  Blogging.  For that I apologize.  But I also know that since those who do read this blog are also moms and wives, you all understand.  You know how life can get crazy and leave you so little time that when you do get 5 minutes, the last thing you want to do is sit at the computer and think.  Again.

Thankfully, my mind is feeling refreshed after the blogging break.  I have all sorts of ideas in my head and stories to share.  Hopefully, I can get back in the swing of things and get cracking here again.  I hope you'll still stick with me and if you feel so moved, share me with your friends and family.  I promise to have some good things coming up very soon.  Until then...

Sometimes, discipline hurts Mom more

Every Wednesday, we go to the local library for story time.  I don't have extra kids that day, so it's something that Scrat and I get to do without her having to share Mom's attention with her sisters or the daycare kids.  She loves listening to the books and dancing with her friends, then getting to play in the kids area before picking out a couple books to take home.  And I look forward to it because it gets me out of the house and also allows me to visit with some of my girlfriends who also bring their kids to story time.  It's win-win.

This past Wednesday, no one won anything.  Scrat was having a decent morning until we decided it was time to get dressed.  She was already wearing a green leopard print skirt, an orange Halloween Kitty shirt and a Christmas sweater--which we'd agreed she could wear until it was time to leave.  Then she had to put on pants because it was cold out.  That's when it started, when it was time to put on her pants.  First, she complained the pants were too long.  Then she didn't think the shirt matched or was pretty on her.  What followed was a half-naked child pounding on my arm, sobbing, yelling, "I want to go to STORY TIME!" 

Needless to say, we didn't go to story time.  I had told Scrat that if she continued to hit and yell at Mommy, we weren't going.  She did, so we didn't.  Let me tell you, it was so hard to stick to my word.  I wanted to go to story time just as badly as she did...and she didn't even know that we were invited to a friend's house afterwards for lunch and a sledding party.  See?  So badly wanted to just give in and take her to story time for my own adult mind as much as hers.  But I didn't.  I couldn't.  I knew that I had to stick to my guns and follow through with what I said--"If you continue this behavior, we will not go to story time." 

Thankfully, Scrat doesn't do this often.  She's very active and funny and a little crazy, but she seldom has temper tantrums and never has she had one to this level.  And I know that she was overly tired because we were out later than normal the night before.  But still.  I had to stick to my guns.  I couldn't give in and just act like nothing happened...or give empty threats...no matter how badly I wanted to.

How am I here?

Do you ever sit and wonder, "How did I get to where I am today? How am I old enough to have a husband, house, bills, 3 kids, all those adult responsibilities?" I'll admit that I think like that not often, but a few times a year maybe? Sometimes I think those thoughts during hard times, wondering how things can be like this and longing for the naivete and relative simplicity of the teen years. Other times, I think like this while things are good, wondering how I can be so lucky to have all that I do.

I'm not the only one who thinks this, right?  I know sometimes I don't feel I'm old enough to be my age, so maybe that's it.  Sometimes I do feel a little wistful of friends who have all the toys and money, but not the kids or house or responsibility.  Sometimes I feel like I'm 75 and have lived an entire lifetime.  But never do I wish that things were different.  Never do I wish that I didn't have the house, even when I'm scraping together the mortgage payment.  Never do I wish that I didn't have 3 kids, even when they are driving me CRAZY.  Never do I wish a minute apart from my husband, even if he's crabby and tired. 

But sometimes, I do wonder.  Where would I be right now if I hadn't taken my husband back, all those years ago, when we broke up in our late teens?  What would I be doing if I'd decided to go to the huge university I was accepted at instead of the smaller U, closer to home?  How would my life be changed had I made one decision differently than I did?

It's not good to dwell on the "what ifs" of life.  I know that.  But if we're all being honest with ourselves, we've all wondered.  On a bad day, we've maybe thought, "My life would be so different if I hadn't let X happen."  But on a good day, we've maybe thought, "I'm so glad that I did Y, because otherwise I wouldn't have Z."  It's normal and it's human to think like that.  So if you have thought these thoughts--it's okay!  It means that you are human and you realize that almost every decision you make can be life changing.  Sure, deciding to have the chicken sandwich instead of the cheeseburger may not be life changing.  But you never know...maybe that cheeseburger is made with contaminated beef.  Or the chicken is under-cooked and gives you salmonella.  You never know.  Just sayin'. 

So the next time you feel like "How am I here?"  Just think back on all you've been through, smile and be confident in the decisions you've made.  You're doing just fine.  And if something needs to change, know that you have the ability to change it.

Sometimes I Yell

I know that I shouldn't yell at my kids.  Every expert says that it's not effective and may damage my child's ego, sense of worth, yadda yadda yadda.  I agree with them, I do.  But sometimes...sometimes I yell.  I don't like it, I always feel bad after I do it, but sometimes it happens.  I'm human.  I'm not perfect. 

When does it happen?  Well, it usually is when I've asked them 564 four times to do something and they are still coloring or watching tv.  Or when they are arguing or back-talking about the most mundane things and have been for the last 3 minutes.  That's usually what my triggers are.  I hate it, but sometimes I yell.  It gets their attention but I know that it's not the best way I can do that.  But I also know that I don't always yell.  Most times, I get their attention in some other way and it works.  But sometimes...

Now, I don't know what you're thinking, but I bet a good bunch of you are nodding your heads, saying it sounds like your house.  I decided when I started this blog that I would be honest with my imperfections--especially when it comes to parenting.  All too often, people put on the "perfect facade."  "I don't yell at my kids."  "My kids always listen."  "I always have fresh baked cookies and milk waiting, with my hair perfectly done and a gourmet meal from scratch cooking on the spotlessly clean stove."  If you are that person in all honesty--kudos!  But I'm willing to say that 99.9% of us moms are NOT that mom.  We do what we can to get by.  Some days it's more than others.  But our ultimate goal is to love, nurture and protect our children.  So sometimes I yell, but most times I don't.  My kids still know that I love them and would do anything for them.  I just occasionally do that really loudly. 

Sunday Afternoons

Yesterday was Sunday afternoon.  We had been gone all day on Saturday, not coming home until after 10 pm, and then we raced out the door for church first thing in the morning.  When we got home from church, there was a lot to be done.  The groceries I had bought on Saturday that didn't need refrigeration were still in bags on the counter, the dishwasher was clean and needed to be emptied so my sink could be emptied, the floors all needed a good pick up and vac, and I was informed that Picaso had no jeans for school on Monday.  I sat the little girls down for a quick lunch (Brainiac was at a basketball clinic) while I put the groceries away.  Then we all went to work on the dishes (Scrat & Picaso unload, I load) before they settled for a nap.  I took the baskets of dirty laundry down to the laundry room, started a load of jeans and then came up to start on the floors. 

That's when I heard it.  It was quiet at first, but then got more demanding.  I searched for the source and found it on the coffee table...My book was calling my name.  I really debated if I should sit down.  I had a lot to do, but none of it HAD to be done right then or even that day.  I decided that I could sit and read for awhile.  I snuggled up with a blanket on our super comfy sectional and read.  For 2.5 hours!  I couldn't believe it when the girls finally woke from their naps (remember, we were out late so they were tired!) and I saw it was after 4:00.  I should have felt guilty, I should have immediately hopped up and started doing things, but I didn't.  I helped the girls to a snack and then sat down to read for another hour.

It was bliss I tell you!  I know there are a lot of other things I should could have been doing.  But I took care of me instead.  Sometimes, we have to do that as a mom.  Sure, today I still have floors that need help and some laundry to get done.  But yesterday afternoon felt fantastic.  If you ask me, it's the best way to spend a Sunday afternoon.  You should try it.

Checking Out

For the last few days, I checked out of the real world.  I laid in bed, slept for hours and hours, and did absolutely nothing constructive.  Now, I wish I could say I was on vacation and that's how I chose to spend it.  Unfortunately, that's not the case.  The real story is that I woke up on Sunday with some sciatic pain that lasted all day.  By Monday morning the pain was gone, but a dull headache had filled it's place.  By mid-day on Monday, it was a full-blown migraine.  It was my worst one yet, and it lasted into Tuesday as well.

I don't know if you have ever had a migraine, but they are the worst pain I can think of.  Hearing anything above a whisper is unbearable, any light makes you see spots, movement hurts, sitting or standing makes you dizzy, and your head pounds so hard that your stomach gets nauseous.  Yeah, they're that fun.  And then when it's finally over, the next day you feel better physically, but you are exhausted and weak and still in a bit of a fog--kinda like the day after the flu.  But even all that pain wasn't what hurt the worst.

So what did hurt worse than the excruciating migraine pain and effects?  Having to call my husband home from work to watch the kids.  Having to miss Picaso and Scrat's first swimming lesson--ever--that we were all so excited about.  Having to rely on my mother to transport Brainiac to basketball since it was at the same time as swimming.  Having to tell my kids that I couldn't hug or kiss them goodnight and they could only very lightly kiss my cheek.

It killed me to do or miss all of those things and have to pass the buck to other people.  I hated every second of laying there, basically in and out of consciousness, having to rely on other people to do what I should have been doing.  But if I've learned anything as a mom, it's that sometimes, I truly can't do it all.  Sometimes I have to turn to family and friends to help me out.  I may not like it, but it does make things better for me.  So hopefully you, too, have or will realize the same thing.  It's okay to ask for help when you need it.  It's not only okay, it may be the only chance you have to make it through.

Here's to 2011

Hello! I played around with the idea of starting a blog way back in July. I set up the template, I worked with some things, and then life got in the way. Don't you hate when that happens?! But I've decided that with the new year, I will give this blogging thing a try. It won't be perfect, but it will hopefully be fun, entertaining, helpful, and honest.

Who am I?
I am an Imperfect Momma to 3 girls--Brainiac, Picaso and Scrat. I'm also an imperfect wife to my husband, or Full Man Grown. We live on a small hobby farm in the middle of nowhere. I know I'm not perfect, and I no longer strive to be because I've finally realized that no one is, or can be, perfect. We all have our faults and flaws, and those are as big a part of us as our attributes and talents. We all have room for improvement and growth. I am not preaching to anyone about how they can be perfect, how I am perfect, or how what I do or say is perfect. But if I can help you with what I say or do, than we're both better off in the end. If not, we keep plugging and being and doing.

What is my blog about?
This blog is going to be about life, especially life as a mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend...all those roles women play. I'll talk about parenting, cooking, cleaning, money, health, fun things, not so fun things--all the things women naturally talk about when they get together anyway.

I hope that you'll join me on this journey. I'm going to try to post several times a week, but again, there are no guarantees because I'm not perfect and sometimes, life gets busy. But bear with me. And if you like what we do here, please comment on the posts and share my link with your family and friends.