Motherhood

When I thought about becoming a mom, I thought about all those tiny fingers and toes. Those baby coos. That sweet baby smell after a bath. You know, all of the adorable things that come with babies. But I didn't really think much further than that. I didn't think about the learning to crawl, walk, talk, potty train, etc. I only thought about having a baby. Having a baby was the easy part.

McKinley is now seven. Seven years have gone by since he was a baby and boy are things different. Motherhood is different. Motherhood is hard! No one understands that until they are mothers. Before motherhood, I remember listening to other mothers talk about having a baby, raising a baby, a child, and god forbid, a teenager. I would internally roll my eyes, think "It can't be that hard", and walk away saying how different things would be when I became a mother. Shame on me! Since becoming a mom, I want to hug every single mother! I want to tell them I understand. That I get it! And that I need a hug too. 

Everyone talks about the terrible twos. That the independence has started to set in and life with a two year is old is the worst. Guess what, two was fine. Two was great. It was three that had me crazed. Then there was four. Then five. Then six. Six was hard. With six came true independence. A little bit of snark. Influence from other kids that was being tested at home. A test that he often failed. With six came more discipline. More arguments. More frustration at being a bad mother. Well, we are one week into being seven and I've never witnessed anything like this. Tears on the daily, from him not me. Anger like I've never seen over having to do homework or not being able to play 24/7. And a mom who is completely doubting her mothering skills. Have I hovered too much? Have I been too hard on him? Should I have let him figure out the math problems alone instead of intervening? Where in motherhood had I gone wrong?

Yesterday was rough. And the evening that followed even more so. He told me that I was getting in the way. Ruining everything because he needed to work on activities for school instead of spending time playing with Dada. That all he wanted to do was get the work done so he could play. But the thing is, he wasn't getting the work done correctly. And when I asked him to spend more time on the work to correct it, all hell broke lose. Those ugly words vomited out of his mouth, leaving me numb and with eyes full of tears. I'm not sure if he meant them or not, and he probably did, and I am now drowning in them. Maybe I am ruining everything. Maybe I am getting in the way. Maybe I am doing it all wrong. I did ask him later that evening what he meant and he said it was his way of telling me he didn't want to be around me right then. My response, maybe you should say just that instead.....

Motherhood. Motherhood is glorious when it's going really well. Motherhood is draining when you are up all night with sick child and all they want is for you to lay with them. Motherhood is tricky when you're sliding on that slippery slope of stepping in and helping or sitting back and letting them fail. Motherhood is ugly when you're crying those tears of sadness after your child has said things to you that you know you will never forget. Motherhood is a badge that every mother should wear with pride because the shit we put up with on a minute, hourly, daily basis is worse than any of those bad jobs we work(ed)! Motherhood is a sorority of women all over the world that are truly just trying to keep their heads above water, get more than five hours of sleep a night, and getting tipsy on wine when they finally get a night free to hang out with other moms. Motherhood is not for the faint of heart.

Over the past year, I've called my mom more to apologize for anything I might have done during my childhood. There will never be enough apologies. I've also called my mom to vent, cry, and vent some more. I've gone to her house and had champagne in the middle of the day because I deserve it. I've often wondered how many tears she actually shed during her time raising me. Tears of pride. Tears of shame. Tears of unhappiness. I've never actually asked. So again mom, I apologize. And if you're reading this, maybe you should pick up the phone and call your mom to apologize. Or invite her over coffee. Or invite yourself over for champagne. Because now she's no longer just your mom. She's a member of that Motherhood sorority. A sister for life. A friend for life. Your mom for life. And if your mom is no longer with you, well then, call that sweet sorority sister of yours because she's going to be there for you too!

Will McKinley and I be friends at the end of all of this? I sure hope so. What I do know, is that he'll hate me. Call me names behind my back. But, he'll also love me when he wants to. Need me when things get tough. And be my friend when it's time. Because if motherhood is done correctly, I'm definitely going to be his least favorite person for a long time. And maybe that time is now.

XO,

Andrea

Becoming a Better Mom

There are several types of categories when I think of moms. And most of them have to do with the moms of television. You have the 1950s mom with June Cleaver. The put together mom who vacuumed in pearls and heels. She made sure her boys, husband and sons, were served a nutritious breakfast and an equally nutritious lunch served up in a brown paper bag. She had a snack waiting when the boys came home from school. She was loving and nurturing. But, she never raised her voice or disciplined. She left that to Ward. June was a classy mom.

Then you had Carol Brady from the 1970s. Carol was a stay at home mom to a bunch of kids who worked along side her Nanny Alice. Together, they served up breakfast that seemed to be a little more realistic. Usually bowls of cereal or toast and juice. But like June, they provided each kid with a brown paper bag lunch that I'm sure consisted of a sandwich, a piece of fruit, and possibly a cookie. I mean Alice cooked all the time. Carol was understanding, loving, and nurturing. But unlike June, she would discipline. She would also defer to Mike, but she didn't necessarily wait until dad came home. That was a change in parenting right before our eyes.

The 1980s brought you Clair Huxtable. A no nonsense mom who was also a high powered career woman, something you didn't see often. She was sassy, tough when needed, wasn't afraid to get angry, but always supportive of her kids. She held the kids responsible which hadn't been seen in previous decades. Mom did it all before that. Or at least she appeared to. Clair created a different footprint in the television mom category.

For the 1990s, I didn't watch as much TV as I did in previous decades. I was in college, and then out on my own, and time was limited for TV viewing. And, the shows I tended to watch no longer featured moms. Sure, you had Cindy Walsh from Beverly Hills 90210, a Midwest mom just trying to make her way in the wealthy new zip code. But you didn't see many moms on shows like Sex and the City and FRIENDS. Monica's mom made an appearance from the time to time, and who can't relate to Judy Gellar? One very relatable mom comes to mind and that's Debra from Everybody Loves Raymond. A frazzled mom who is running after kids all day, lives in a house that's constantly in a state of clutter, deals with in-laws who are ever present (something I can't relate to), and simply tries to raise her kids as best she can. I think everyone can relate to that on some level.

So where am I going with all of this, you ask. Well, over the long winter break, I found that I struggle with motherhood. I'm a mom that apparently moms from day to day and it's not consistent. I mother based on my mood, McKinley's mood, the weather, and so many other factors. I lose my cool. I raise my voice. I smother him with kisses. I snuggle him to death. I smother him to death. I discipline when needed and sometimes I let it slide. When I'm in a bad mood, I'm not super understanding. When I'm frustrated because the house is a mess, or because McKinley's playing in the middle of the floor and I trip over something, I get mad. I start to grumble. And instead of taking a deep breath, or leaving the room to take a minute to calm down, I find that I harbor that moment and stay frustrated most of the day. Not a very great trait. And I'm aware of it. And I fear that McKinley is too. But, when all of this goes down, I find McKinley is his same playing spot, without a care in the world, so maybe he just figures my behavior is normal. Is it?

I'm not a great mom. I can admit that, but I don't like that either. I wish I was more patient. I wish I didn't get frustrated so easily. I wish I didn't lose my cool when I do. I wish that McKinley and I wouldn't argue, but when you are raising someone who is pretty much your personality equal, it's hard! I get angered that he won't compromise, but maybe I should. I get so frustrated when he simply refuses to do something I ask, which can set the tone for either my mood or my day. But it doesn't seem to impact him. Unless when I raise my voice in true anger, and then he runs to his room and cries it out in his bed. I should caveat that by saying, he cries for less than a minute, and then he's back in his original spot playing. Or chatting with me about some random subject he dreamed up in his head. Is that normal? Is that his way of dealing with the situation? By trying to change the mood? And it works. I will immediately be back to my "normal" self, listening to him talk and chiming when I can. And regretting the fact that we had to have that moment to begin with.

I've already declared my New Years Resolution, and becoming a better mom wasn't on there, and maybe it should have been. I think deep down we all have that resolution year after year and we just don't verbalize it. But what I'm going to try and do for me might help in the better mom category. Maybe taking more time for me, and it doesn't count that he's in school for eight hours because during that time I'm cleaning, doing laundry, going to the grocery store, or helping at school, and that is definitely not me time! But, I'm hoping that a little time away in the evenings or on weekends might help. I do need to work on taking deep breaths, not huffing and puffing, to calm myself when things get heated. I need to leave the room and compose myself before just raising my voice to get my point across. And, I truly need to work on my patience because it really sucks! However, I will continue to kiss him to death, smoothing him to death, love him, nurture him, be tough when needed, discipline when needed, and spend as much quality time with him as humanly possible. And, I will try my hardest to give him a good breakfast, a fully packed lunchbox with an occasional cookie, a snack after school, and possibly wear pearls and heels while doing it all. 

XO,

Andrea

Embracing the Imperfect

I read an interesting article the other day about Satan stealing your motherhood. In it, the author talked about how we as mothers allow this evilness into our hearts and soul without even knowing we've done it. We reach a brink, a breaking point, and then yell at anything in your path. Your child, the dog (we don't have one), the vacuum as you accidentally suck up a Lego you didn't know was in your path, the Hot Wheel you step on for all the same reasons as the Lego, or the fact that you are the only that can seem to find anything that's lost because no one actually looks for it. It's no ones fault, you know. It's just you. Taking out your frustration because life wasn't perfect in that moment.

The other interesting take away is that we, not even mothers but women in general, compare ourselves to the other women around us. It could be the ones that post all the perfect images to Instagram which allow you to believe that life for them is perfect. It could be the best friend you've had for years because she appears to be the type of woman to get whatever it is she wants, without really trying. A fellow Kindergarten mom who has the most beautiful hair you've ever seen and the cutest style that you know you could never pull off. The new mom down the street who seemed to drop all of her baby weight within a matter of months where you still carry yours from your child that you birthed five years ago. Apparently, Satan thrives on this.

And why do we allow ourselves to do this? Why can't we be more like men and just shake it off? Or Taylor Swift for that matter? Men don't really compare themselves to other men. They throw on a ball cap and go instead of using copious amounts of dry shampoo to mask their dirty hair. They don't fret about the imperfect moment that you seem to always capture on film because they are too busy actually living in that perfect moment. I'm constantly whining to my husband about these scenarios and he is constantly telling me to stop using Facebook. Get off Instagram. He declares that social media is the cause for so much angst and he's probably right. A friend of mine took a break from Facebook a little over a year ago because she couldn't take the stress. The perfect mom, the depressing status updates, and the opinionated posts that will never change anyone's mind. And she's probably better off for it! But is it really social media or Satan who we've allowed in the door?

So what do we do? Since reading that article, I've been trying to take deep breaths before possibly losing my cool. Living in the moment, imperfect and all, and laughing with my son over the sleeve that's covered in dry snot instead of scolding him for not using a Kleenex. Wiping up the crumbs under the kitchen table because they aren't going to do it themselves. I'm trying to embrace my curls, at times, because there are very few of us who actually have them. I'm trying to capture the photos that have zero smiles, tongues sticking out, or that contain action poses that have nothing to do with the scenario. And posting them, instead of the ones that are filtered and perfect. Be the imperfect mother, and woman, that I am. And not apologize for it.

Do you find that you deal with this issue? Are you a mother that truly lets things go or do you harbor all of it and then break? And when you do break, what do you do to relieve the stress? Release the evil? Sending Satan packing.

XO,

Andrea

9 to Nest - Giveaway

I remember the moment I found out I was pregnant. I was excited, nervous, anxious, and above all, thrilled! Just today, I had a reminder pop up on Facebook with his first sonogram picture and my heart burst. It's such a joyous time! 

When 9 to Nest reached out to me, and asked if they could send me a gift box to review, I jumped at the chance. 9 to Nest is a monthly gift subscription service for expectant mothers-to-be that helps pass the time each month leading up to baby’s arrival. Their unique gift boxes are a perfect way for friends and family members to share in this special time, or for mothers-to-be to treat themselves during the long months while they wait for baby’s arrival. Many of their gifts are handmade right here in Kansas City.

Each gift is customized depending on the number of months remaining until the baby's arrival and the gifts are carefully selected and are gender neutral. There are different packages to choose from as well. Based on the frequency of boxes you would like to receive, you can sign up for either six, five, four, and three month subscriptions. The cost is $39.95 a month and shipping is included. And, this service can be given as a gift as well! 

I received the three month gift box and it's adorable! It included a hooded bath towel, two super soft washcloths, and a rubber ducky. It was fun to open the yellow tissue paper to find what was inside. Imagine getting this little box monthly! When you can't always shop for clothes, and have them arrive on your doorstep, it's nice to have a cute little something for your little one instead. 

As cute as the contents are, I will say that for almost $40, I would like a little something extra. With the box containing a hooded towel and washcloths, it would be fun to get some sample bath washes. Nothing big. Just sample sizes and maybe something along the organic line. I know some moms really start thinking about what they're putting on baby's skin, I know I was/am, and it would be nice to have something to experiment with before buying large bottles. I would love to see what the other boxes contain. It makes me want to have another baby......but I won't!

Here is what came in my three month box!

I love all of these items, and since we didn't find out the gender of our baby, they are perfectly neutral! Seriously, how sweet are these? I miss those days!

And for all of my expectant readers, or readers who know someone who is expecting, 9 to Nest is offering to all customers the code 92NEST at checkout to receive 20% off the first month! And, if you're currently reading this, 9 to Nest would love to offer a 3-month giveaway for one of you to give to their special mother-to-be (or receive if you're expecting)!! Just comment below to be entered. The giveaway will close next Monday November 7th. 

I love this idea and hope this company is a huge success! Talk it up to all of your friends and family. I love to shop locally, they are out of Nevada, MO, and I know you do too. And, with the holidays right around the corner, this would be the perfect gift for that mom to be!

Have any questions about 9 to Nest, check out their website. What a fun, joyful company and I'm so glad I was able to work with them!

XO,

Andrea 

Gift box c/o 9 to Nest

Motherhood: Some Possible Unspoken Truths

Motherhood. There are so many things associated with that one single word. You take on the role of nurturing and loving your child(ren), helping them grow in mind, body, and spirit, and guide them through life with as much hands on or hands off assistance as you like. You are there to kiss boo-boos, help mend broken hearts, and wipe away tears from either defeat or success. And all of this is done without any question. No expectations of thank yous. You do it because you're their mother.

But what about all the times your heart is broken? When you need tears wiped away? Many times as a result of something your child(ren) has done. Maybe it's a low report card. A trip to the principal's office. Watching them head off on their first date. Watching them walk down the aisle. Or, maybe it's something they did or said to you. Little things that seemed to innocent to them, but cut like a knife to you. Things that we maybe aren't supposed to talk about as mothers. Share among one another in case they too have experienced this kind of hurt and didn't have anyone to talk about it with. That's where this post comes in.

I'm a mother to an only child. A boy. And I adore him. He's five, in Kindergarten, smart, imaginative, funny, whiny at times, argumentative at times, and super sweet.....when he wants to be! Like I said, I adore him. After three years of being a "work outside the home" mama, I am now a "stay at home" mama and we spend all of our time together, when he's not in school. We work, we play, we explore, we cuddle, and we argue. Pretty much the same things all mama's do with their children. But, there are times when he makes me cry. Makes me want to scream. Hurts my feelings. All things he has no idea he's done.

He adores his dada and that's a good thing. He mimics him. Shadows him. Loves him. Dada can do no wrong. Yes, Joel will discipline him. Raise his voice to him. Scold him. As a father should. But, he plays with him. Takes adventures with him. Loves him. As a father should. And McKinley thrives on it. And, when dada is around, mama doesn't exist. That's where the hurt feelings come from on most days. As childish as it sounds, there are times where I simply feel left out. Third wheel. Unwanted. Cue the tears.

As mothers, I feel like this subject is taboo. Who actually talks about their children causing them tears? Hurting their feelings? It comes with the territory, right? It's just part of motherhood. But why can't we talk about it? Why shouldn't we talk about it? It's good to get these kinds of things off your chest, right? Or, is it that I'm simply the only mother who feels like this? That could very well be. But since I'm on the subject, I'm going to talk about it.

When the three of us our out, it's already an odd number, right? The best thing about a family of three is that all hands are being held. McKinley is always in the middle so there's a mama and a dada hand to hold. Perfection! Three people fit on the tram ride at the zoo. Three fit on the Safari ride. Three fit perfectly on the swings at the farmstead during a picnic lunch. Heaven! When we head to Worlds of Fun, like we did this past weekend, that's when there is an odd man out and that odd man out is usually me. Dada is always the first choice for any two person ride, leaving me to ride on the rides that make dada sick. Rarely am I picked first for any ride, and usually allowed to ride the second time around, only after Joel has convinced McKinley that he should let mama ride. Not the best scenario, huh? Feeling like the third wheel. Leaving me with hurt feelings. 

Maybe it's a only child thing for me. I'm used to being the center of attention. Never having to vie for my own parents individual attention. And, I don't really ever remember a time where I had to pick a parent. And maybe that's because we never really went to places that didn't allow for all three of us. Places that only allowed for two people, although my mom would never be able to ride any ride for fear of throwing up. We took trips to the beach, went camping, drove to Maine and Colorado, and flew to San Francisco. Places that required hiking, exploring, visiting friends, driving in the car, and simply hanging out. Nothing that had only two seats, could only be done in pairs, or expected me to choice who to do them with. Maybe that's something we as a family of three need to explore. Do more family style things that allow all three of us to be involved. Looks like this mama needs to do a little research!

And as you're reading this, how many mothers out there can relate to any of this? Can anyone relate? Am I alone in my thoughts? My tears? My hurt feelings? Has there ever been a time that your child did or said something that just cut to the bone? Have you ever felt like you couldn't talk about it? Felt childish talking about it? 

And I have a feeling the hurt feelings don't stop here. First, it's the choosing of one parent over the other. Then it's the not holding your hand in public, which I thrive on right now. Then it's not hugging/kissing you goodbye. Crush my soul now! And then there's the day he picks another woman over me. Just go ahead and stick a dagger in my heart! I can't with this and may just bawl at any minute. 

Let's pull this back around to my tiny, baby boy who's only five. My five year old who still asks me to take him to bed. Who still cuddles with me from time to time. Who asks me to read to him daily. Who curls his little hand in mine every time we walk anywhere together. And all of those precious things confirm that he does love me. That he might adore me too. And, that he chooses me. Just not when dada walks through the door......

 

XO, 

Andrea