Caution! Vent ahead: Necessary so I don't catch a case...

We've all had that moment when you're out in public and hear a screaming, tantruming child. The most common reaction is "ugh! Shut that kid up!" I've heard it mumbled in countless stores and parking lots. Sometimes I've caught a glimpse of a struggling child with their over-it parent, and sometimes it's just an echoing scream that tears at my heartstrings. When I hear it, I want to RUN to find that child and just sit down and soothe them. I can feel in my bones that their little being just can't do it anymore. Too much running around with Mommy. Too tired. Hungry. Thirsty. Overstimulated. Just plain done. I get it. I feel that way, too, sometimes. And you know what else we don't take into account? Maybe that poor little person (I say person because yes, children ARE people, too!) has been going through something we don't  know about and this it is all just too much for them.

My husband was admitted to the hospital on Friday. We have a 4.5 year old and a one year old. Thankfully my mother lives around the corner from me and was able to come right over so I could meet him at the ER. He ended up getting admitted and my mother took our 4.5 year old for the first two days/nights. Even though Nana and Papa's house is like a vacation, C's whole entire world and routine was turned upside down. Even though he is 100% comfortable with my parents, they are not his safety and security. Without going into all the long, drawn out details of how fucked up our hospitals and staff are, let's just say it's been a long 5 days and we still don't know when my husband will be able to come home. These two littles, who miss their daddy and are physiologically incapable of patiently waiting around (no fault of their own!) in a boring hospital room where they can't touch all of the alluring buttons, have been troupers! 

Yesterday was more traumatic for our 4yo because he watched his daddy get wheeled out of the room for a procedure. We made light of it, of course, but in his child mind, here's his daddy who has been gone for 5 days, being taken away by nurses in a big hospital and he knows daddy won't be home that night. He's 4. He doesn't know what a hospital is, outside of it's a place where sick or hurt people go. He is tired and missing his daddy. His routine is messed up. Daddy's not there to do tubbie time, or read a bedtime story, or play. So last night was full of nightmares and a fitful sleep for this little guy. C has his own challenges that he faces, too, so his plate is just too full for a 4 year old. While we were waiting for the valet just now, his lollipop stick fell and broke in half. His face scrunched up angrily, he growled, and said "I am so frustrated!" I calmly echoed his feelings and began to try to settle what could have immediately turned into a situation, but hadn't. Before I could finish my interaction with my child, who did not even raise his voice, even though his little body certainly could have turned into the Tasmanian Devil, this older woman whose car just arrived turned and said "that's a big word for such a little boy. I have another one for you, patience. Learn it!" And then waltzed into her car. Had my 4 year old and 1 year old not had been right there with me, I would be sitting in a jail cell. I was furious. You have NO IDEA what our situation is. You have NO IDEA what challenges my child faces. You have NO IDEA how INCREDIBLY PROUD I am of him to voice his frustration like he did, instead of launching into a full-fledged meltdown. This child, CHILD, got very little sleep - interrupted sleep, at that! His daddy has been gone for 5 days. His routine is all screwed up as he goes daily to visit him in a big, scary, hospital. He doesn't understand what is going on with his daddy. He has his own appointments that he still must attend on top of the upheaval in his schedule. Do NOT just assume that I have a "bad" kid. Show me a four year old who would NOT be frustrated while waiting for the valet to come bring your car in 100 degree heat - after he's already come back to confirm what you drive because he grabbed the wrong keys. Not to mention, said child didn't sleep well from nightmares about his daddy, it's lunch time, nap time, his own anxiety, a special surprise he was given just fell and broke, he's leaving his daddy behind, he's hot, too many noises, his baby brother is starting to meltdown...... Fuck what all of the reasons were or even could have been - this bitch should never had said anything. My child, who said "hello" to her as she approached. My child who has a heart of gold. My child who has a HUGE smile for anyone, a smile that she fucking commented "how lovely" it was. I'm sorry, y'all, but think of our own adult frustrations. It's hard sometimes. Imagine what kids go through. Before you jump to conclusions, just stop and think. And again - ALL HE FUCKING DID WAS SAY HE WAS FRUSTRATED! HE EASILY COULD HAVE THROWN THE FUCKING CANDY AND STARTED SCREAMING LIKE A BANSHEE! Fuck, man. I know I'm tired, and worn out, and stressed, but I came [ - ] close to busting an old biddy's ass today.

Breaking through

Yesterday I had an appointment to go to and I threw on a pair of shorts to wear instead of pants. I live in Florida and it's freaking hotter than the devil's ass 361 days a year. With that being said, yesterday was the second time in 26 years that I've worn shorts out in public. Yeah, I'm going to say that again: The SECOND time in 26 YEARS that I have worn shorts out in public. I've battled with my weight my whole life. Even when I was fit and looked amazing, I still felt insecure and too big. I have never been the type of woman who felt comfortable in my skin no matter my size. There are big, beautiful women in the world who freaking ROCK their bodies. What am I lacking that I just cannot drum up that confidence!? Well, after having two kids, and after coming to the realization that I ONLY have this life right now and it is FLYING by me, I decided to break through my own self conscious bullshit and say "fuck it!".

Today my husband and I took our boys (4 and 1) to the beach. I not only wore shorts, but today was the first time that I never thought about what someone else might be thinking of me in a bathing suit. I played with my boys in the ocean and in the sand. We had a great time! It was so FREEING to not think about what someone else could be thinking of me. And it happened naturally! I didn't even have to convince myself to not focus on that! To top it off, I posted a pic of me on social media. It's not a full body bathing suit shot, but it's something I NEVER would have done before. But, my page is private.... if you're my FB friend, it's because we are friends or family, and I would hope that I wouldn't be judged by my looks.

I'm still not happy with how I look and I literally cringed looking at the pics my husband took of me and the boys, but I am working to get the body back that I'm comfortable in. My boys love their mama just the way I am. This big, dimpled, jiggly body made two human beings. This body is strong. In the meantime, until I get back to where I want to be, I am not going to hide. I broke through a HUGE barrier - and I'm not going back.

#MomBlogger #MomLife #MyLife #BigBeautifulWoman #PlusSize #NoMoreFear #NoMoreHiding #SelfLove #GettingInShape #PostpartumBody #MyBeachBody #EveryBodyIsABeachBody

Tears, tantrums, and Easter eggs

Parenting an anxious child with behavior issues is hard. Add to that parenting with my own anxiety and depression fucking sucks. It's Easter morning and I'm in my room, crying on my bed. We've already had 2 meltdowns and I just yelled at my kid for throwing a new toy away. Yeah, not the Easter morning I imagined, but definitely my reality.

I told my 4 year old to stay in the guest room with his daddy and baby brother as I turned on all the lights in the house so he could do his egg hunt. He came out too soon and I said "Back in the room" to which he immediately shamed himself (internally, not verbally - I've learned his emotional cues), hit himself in the head (his new thing that makes me physically sick to witness), and started screaming and breaking things. Happy Easter! Not.

I went to him and picked him up, amid his tiny rage fit, to bring him to his room. *change of scenery really helps when he's having an episode.* As he's screaming, crying, and hitting me, I'm wiping his tears and kissing him while quietly telling him "it's okay" and "Mommy's here". It's fucking hard to stay calm when you're being hit HARD, or scratched, or hair pulled, or kicked, or having your ears screamed in so loudly that your ear drums crackle and ache. Yes. It is truly fucking hard to have a child with behavioral issues. But, you know what? I bet it's even harder for a 4 year old who is feeling big emotions and doesn't know how to express them. But i digress.

So after this 1st episode that only lasts a coupleof minutes, the egg hunt commences and it's exciting and fun. The 4yo squeals with delight as he finds eggs and the 1yo beams as he reaches for the ones higher up with a boost from Daddy. Then the 4yo finds his basket! How exciting! He focuses on one toy and ignores everything else.... I instantly feel annoyed. I worked so hard to get my non-chocolate loving child items that he would be excited about and yet he's bypassing everything. It took me a second to snap out of it, unbeknownst to the 4yo thankfully, who was focused on his toy. I was able to stifle my own expectation of his basket opening experience and enjoy him finding things on his own timeline.

It wasn't long before his little feet walked angrily to the garbage can and he threw away one of the toys from his Easter basket. "Her leg broke." Now, I just bought this yesterday. I could return it. But he's now thrown it into the garbage can where there is discarded food scrapings from ladt night's dinner, dirty diapers, and other yucky garbage. I'm not digging it out. So, I reacted without thinking. I yelled. I told him he's not allowed to throw his toys away; if they are broken he needs to let mommy and daddy know. I am angry at myself for yelling. I go into my room and cry.

My child has had two meltdowns on, what should be, a fun morning. I know I reacted because I didn't sleep well. The baby has been up every night for the past 2 weeks. I'm anxious about spending the holiday at my parents' house. I know I have an explosive child. I know I have a step father who 100% doesn't understand, and lives by the belief that children need to always do as they're told (and do so quietly!), black and white, no grey area. I know I have nieces that be there, that my son just adores, and that will increasingly add to his anxiety and shame, should he become upset. I know we will be around family who may not agree with how I handle what they see as bratty tantrums. I know no one else knows what we go through as I don't talk about it. I know I will suffer silently and my son, as empathic as I, will pick up on it. We will unfortunately feed off of each other. But as much as I will try to quell my feelings they sometimes bubble over into these short-tempered, quick to react moments, instead of allowing me to stop and just focus on what my 4yo is feeling and what he needs.

I've written this post in spurts - over 2 hours have passed since I started writing - as, moming just doesn't stop. I cried for four minutes. My 4yo came in with a singing Easter bunny and danced at the foot of my bed. I invited him to climb up, where he snuggled up close and said "Mommy don't be sad". We hugged and I told him I just want him to be happy. We went off to have breakfast where 2 more meltdowns ensued. 1. He didn't want French toast and 2. He didn't want to take a nap today. He's now happily exploring "the forest", which is the far side of our pond/property with his daddy. I will be calling him in soon for a little nap/rest before we get ready to leave. I pray for a good day. I pray that my anxiety and my hang ups let me enjoy my son and our family. I pray that my father doesn't interject or say anything that will just compound what happens to be an already volatile situation. I pray my son is able to enjoy himself and his cousins. I pray for his heart to be light. I pop an Ativan and I pray....

#MomLife #Mommy #Motherhood #MommingAintEasy #Family #MyFam #Children #Depression #PPD #PPA #Anxiety #MommingWithDepression #KidsWithAnxiety #MentalHealth #MentalHealthAwareness #Mood #Holidays #SurvivingHolidays #MomBlogger #MommyBlogger #BoyMom #MomTruth #MyRawTruth

Sick and tired

I keep telling myself that I'm strong, that I can walk away from people and situations that do not add to my life. I keep telling myself that I deserve that peace, and that I should not be concerned about how those people will feel because they don't make my feelings a priority. I'm tired of being the one who does for others, thinks of others, helps others, pleases others, and yet, gets forgotten. Me and mine will drop anything for anyone if they needed us, but it's never been reciprocated. Starting to feel that maybe I CAN move on. Maybe I CAN shut down. Maybe my point of no return is on the horizon. Not only for my own self preservation, but to  teach my children that we ARE important and that we deserve to be treated how we treat others. Living constantly for others and being concerned about their feelings while neglecting my own has been a very painful and toxic road to follow. I feel like my emotional freedom is right around the corner. #Done #Feelings #TiredOfBeingForgotten #ImWorthIt #SundayMusings #RealLife #Realization #Reflection #StrawMeetCamel #SelfPreservation #TeachYourChildrenWellSoTheyDoBetter

Still living in my fuckery

I have 7 posts that are drafts because I cannot bring myself to post them. I am having SUCH a hard time in letting go, in letting my authentic self be seen and heard. I know I'm cycling in the same bs because I'm not allowing myself to be me.

Not there yet

I've had a week. It's been painful, chaotic, challenging... but I can't write about it. I'm not there yet. I'm still not comfortable enough to open up. My goal is to be able to fully, and unapologetically reveal my truths. I'm not there yet. I've been on a path of self discovery, trying to embrace my authentic self instead of transforming to what everyone else around me needs. I'm not there yet. So, until then, I will continue to smile on the outside. #NotThereYet #SelfDiscovery #MyTruth #Transparency #Authentic #AuthenticSelf #Journey #MyJourney #ForeverUnexpected #Blog #Blogger #BloggingJourney

Which one do you save?

As I'm lying in my bed, nursing my youngest to sleep and listening to my oldest scream bloody murder over the baby monitor, I'm reminded of the query that goes something like: "your 2 children are in the ocean, drowning. You can only reach one of them. Which one do you save?".

My 4yo was stopped from one steroid and started on another. With only 3 doses of the new medicine, he was suddenly experiencing adult-like fits of rage. I knew what it was because it happened once before when he was on another medication. I stopped the new medicine and put him back on the old stuff. He's had 3 doses of that and his rage is still scarily present. I'm hoping he'll regulate soon.

Before, when this happened over a year ago, I didn't know what was happening. We were in the thick of trying to find out what's been going on with him medically, and when he was prescribed Singulair we just gave it to him. Rage was never discussed as a side effect. But suddenly, my sweet, soft, compassionate, almost 3 year old was throwing himself into closed doors, running through the house knocking any and every object down that was within his reach, punching, kicking, scratching, and biting. He would scream so loud and forcefully that his face would turn a reddish purple and he was giving himself headaches. I, never even thinking it could've been a side effect of this medication, suffered along this journey with him. I started out angry that he was "misbehaving" and having temper tantrums. That was, after all, what had been ingrained in me; children act out because they are being fresh. I would yell, threaten punishment, take toys away.... none of this worked. Hell, he couldn't reason, of course it didn't work! I decided to try to stay overly calm. When he would start running through the house screaming or wouldn't go to bed, I would sit on the couch, in the dark, waiting. After a few minutes he would come over and rest against me. I'd pick him up and carry him to bed. If he started hitting, biting, kicking, scratching, I would do my best to hold his hands or gently deflect him while speaking quietly. Let me tell you, having restraint when someone is biting you or punching you in the eye or face is fucking hard. But, this was my small child and children just aren't wired to be violent. Something was wrong. The more I sat on the floor during these outbursts and calmly said "Mommy's here, I will help you when you're ready.", the shorter they lasted. He would fall into my lap, still screaming and crying, but when I would ask what was wrong, he'd say he didn't know. That broke me. My poor baby didn't know why he was throwing sneakers into lamps, or ramming his shoulder into the closed door, or throwing papers all around. Although these episodes lessened in duration, they were still abundant in frequency. He was on that medicine for over a year when a new specialist mentioned rage as a side effect. I stopped him immediately and these fits disappeared. He eventually started a new medicine and his rage came back for a short period of time; obviously some sort of adjustment period. I would sob every single day because I was so afraid my kid was going to have some type of mindfuck because of all of these fits. I cried because I didn't know how to help him. I cried because of the days I lost my patience and yelled at him. I cried for the times I tried to spank him. I cried for the times I yelled so loudly it scared him. I cried because why was this happening to us?

Stopping the Singular stopped the rage and outbursts. Bedtime was no longer a 2 hour ordeal. He no longer acted out or got crazy. So, when he started flipping out the other day, after starting him on Advair, I knew right away what was going on. He's still experiencing the rage, and I'm going to assume (pray) that it's just the transition back to his regular steroid. But, while this is ongoing, I now have a 10 month old. I can no longer give my full attention to my oldest during his fits. Today was my first experience with this. I was preoccupied with some work this morning and our routine was off. I could tell he was nearing the edge of his cliff so I made some lunch and prepped him for a nap. While on a call, he started sliding downward over the edge and started screaming and throwing things. Simultaneously, the 10 month old decided "Hey, I'm fucking tired and want to nurse and go to sleep NOW!". I made my way through the end of the call - grimacing as the man on the other end could hardly hear me say "No, you've been a great help" over the 4 year old's shrieks, and ordered my 4 year old to his room. I had lost my patience. 10 month old was standing at my legs, pulling on my pants, crying, and I needed to get him to sleep. I walked with both boys to their room and told my 4 year old it was nap time for everyone and I needed to get his brother down. This launched him into a full fledged fit. Over the past hour and a half, I've gone from child to child, leaving them to flip their shit as I tended to the other. When I left the 4yo to go to the baby, he would slam doors, throw sneakers (knocking down and breaking a glass container and knocking a lightbulb out of his ceiling fixture) and lose it. He'd come running into my bedroom where I was trying to nurse his brother to sleep and he would scream at me, slam my door, and repeat this cycle. I went back and forth between the two probably 8 times. I did lose my shit again - which I fucking hate. It makes me feel weak and like a terrible mom to yell at him. I KNOW why he's acting like this. I KNOW he can't fucking help it. But, after an hour, I have almost nothing left. I yell. Loudly. I tell him not to leave his bed. I go back to my room, pick up the crying baby and start to nurse him. Again. The 4yo comes in, yelling, and without looking at him I quietly say "if you want to keep screaming go in the other room. Your brother needs to sleep." He slams my door. Comes back in; 4yo: "Did you hear what I just did?!" Me, so quietly: "yes. If you want to scream or slam the door, go in the other room. Please, your brother needs to sleep." Door slams. He bangs it. I can hear him go in his room. He starts to cry. My heart is torn.....10 month old's eyes are fluttering closed, he is ALMOST asleep! But, I can hear the 4yo has peaked; he's done and is now emotionally crashing. He needs me... how do I choose which boy to help? Keep nursing the youngest until he falls asleep or go help my bigger one, who has just been through an emotional rollercoaster and needs to be comforted? I know what that emotional crash feels like. I know that it feels like you've just run 26.2 miles after not sleeping for 6 days and your body is just limp. I listen to him crying, not yelling, just those sad sobs of a little boy. And as my own throat tightens, he comes into my room, clutching his blanket, breaths spasming. I tell him to come lie down on the other side of my bed and wait for me. He does, and his movement alerts the little one. Now the one whose eyes were closed is now awake and rolling around trying to get to his brother. This. Is. Not. Happening. I put munchkin in the playpen and walk little man to his room. He says "mommy, I'm the worst ever. I'm so so sorry" and starts to cry. I pick him up and sit down with him in the recliner. I assure him he's not the worst ever. I tell him it's okay to be angry, but we need to work on not hitting, throwing and yelling. I remind him that I'm here to help him when he feels out of control - he asks "what's out of control?"... yet another reminder that kids are not vicious, angry heathens. They have great big emotions that they just don't know how to manage. We talk a little longer and I carry him to his bed. I tuck him in and give him a hug and a kiss. I don't even make it to my room and I see on the monitor he's already asleep. I pick up munchkin, lie down with him and nurse. He passes right out, too. I slip out and finish writing this as my body starts to show the weary signs of the battle I just encountered. I'm off to make another cup of coffee and hope they sleep for at least an hour.
Y'all, this shit ain't easy. Give yourself grace. Let yourself cry. We don't always make the right choices, but we can always keep trying to be/do better; just like we ask of our littles.

#MomLife #BoyMomLife #LifeWithKids #ChronicIllness #ChronicSickness #TemperTantrums #MomStruggle #KidsForReal #OurCandidLife #MyHonestMotherhood #MommyMoments #UnitedInMotherhood #MotherhoodInTheRaw

This post took me a week to write #MomLife

The tough days of parenting are often joked about, but rarely discussed. I've recently had a few tough days in a row that made me want to scream "what the FUCK?!!?!?". Hell, I'm pretty sure at some point I did.

My oldest (4 years old) is sick quite often. We've seen all different specialists, holistic doctors, underwent countless tests, bloodwork, medications, procedures, etc. Some things have improved, some things we are still testing for and working on. My kiddo is a fucking trooper. He's undergone more than I have and does so with a courage and grace that a 4yo shouldn't have to display yet. Well, he's on another round of oral steroid and it tastes absolutely vile. He first had to take it when he was 2, and as his mama, I tasted it before giving it to him. It is so revolting that I gagged from a teeny drop. So here we are again needing to take this abhorrent medicine and even though he's taken it countless times before, he cries, fights me, and gags. This time, I have a 9 month old underfoot, and after this particular dose, I'm trying to get us all out the door, first thing in the morning, for a doctor's appointment. He takes a tiny taste and throws up a little. I get frustrated and curtly remind him that he's taken this so many times before and just to be quick about it. He cries and fights some more. I lose my cool a little more. Now, I usually work SO HARD to stay calm; to allow him to express his feelings however they come out because he's a little person with great, big feelings and isn't capable of handling them yet. I work so hard at helping him work through his emotions and making sure he knows he has a safe space. But I also have my own issues that I'm working on. I have depression and anxiety and have a real hang up with punctuality. So, here I am, half ready to go, a 4yo flipping his shit (honestly, rightfully so) because he has to take disgusting medicine, and a 9 month old crawling all up over us to see what's going on. 4yo begrudgingly takes more medicine, chugs water and immediately throws all of it up all over himself, me, the baby and the kitchen. Prenisolone, water, and phlegm everywhere. I yell. He's crying harder. Damnit - it's not his fault. I get it. But in the moment, knowing we all had to change and we are now going to be late, I yell. I can see in his little eyes that he's broken. I broke my own kid because he just puked up medicine that made ME want to puke. I suck. I know I suck. I apologize and hug him and tell him it's not his fault. As I strip off his puked on clothes and dry his tears I tell him I know how yucky the medicine is. I tell him how I wish he didn't have to take it. With a freshly dressed, sniffling, mini-me traipsing behind me, I head back to the kitchen thinking about how I can get this medicine into him. I got it - he's currently into pirates, so I fill up 2 syringes with water and one with his medicine. I tell him we're pirates and we're going to have a battle with our cannons. I give him the medicine and tell him to shoot the medicine down with the water cannons. He gets SO excited! He takes the syringe of medicine, takes some and then I excitedly yell "get the water cannons!!!" and pass him the water-filled syringes, refilling as he swallows them. Success!!!! And that is what we did once a day for 10 days. I let go of MY frustration, expectations, and timeline, and put myself in his shoes. Sometimes parenting is hard.

Testing, testing, 123

For years now I've wanted to become a "blogger". Prior to the online uproar, social media craze, and birthing of the "internet appendage", where one is always "connected". I have a lot to say. I don't expect to be "The Next Big Thing", but somewhere out there someone will say "Hey, she gets me!". I have no idea what I'm doing (yet!) and this is my maiden voyage. I'm going to be adding this ball to the 2 small children, dog, husband, home, and family that I already juggle, so bear with me! Happy reading!