Confessions of Un-Confidence

I have been having a rough time lately with my role as "mom".

I sort-of broke down the other evening to Big Daddy R and came somewhat clean that I felt like a failure as a mother.  I say "sort-of" and "somewhat" because I only cried a little and only touched on the tip of the iceberg.  I was not ready to completely divulge my true feelings.

I confided to him that this should be easy.   I am smart but this boggles me.  Why is it I can't do it?  Why can't I handle two small children?  I should be doing better.

I feel so awkward every time someone tells me what a good mom I am to my two little Rs.  My neighbors continually gush about it and I have found myself avoiding them (which is difficult because they are like grandparents to my kids) just because I don't want to hear about how wonderful of a mom I am to them.

I feel like I have a dark dirty secret that no one but me and my poor children know about.  My poor kids that have to suffer with the truth everyday.  And my poor husband who can see that something is bothering me but doesn't understand because I refuse to burden him with the depth of my troubles.

But to the keen eye, an outside observer may see the unclean house, the half-naked kids, the piles of laundry, the overworked husband, the too-clean stove, and the empty bottles of wine and deduce that either these kids need to have protective custody from neglectful and addictive parents, or that this is a case of a mom who has no confidence in her skills.

When I'm low, I'm under the barrel.  No, I'm the muck that grows under the stuff that lives under the barrel.

But then there are days when I can breathe and just "let it be".  Instead of fighting against the current, I just float downstream and have faith that I won't hit a waterfall.  Or if I do happen upon one, that it won't be too scary, it may actually be thrilling, and that I will not drown.

It is all about faith I guess.  I have to blindly believe that it will all be ok.  And if I put my whole heart into that belief then my confidence grows.

I can see that my children are beautiful and healthy.  I can see that my kids kiss and hug and laugh and play together.  I can see that there is a creative ingenuity in their messes.  I can see that the fridge & cabinets are filled with healthy foods that they actually love to eat.   I can see that my three year old started to read, can do simple math, and can recite books word for word with such enthusiasm and drama it's no wonder he's my child!  I can see that even though my 18 month old utters few words, her mind is working and she understands completely.  I can see that there is more laughter than screaming.  And I can see that Ryan proclaims everyday, sometime several times a day, that "We are the best & happiest family in the world!"
And I would have to agree with him wholeheartedly!

Tomorrow I may be losing my mind once again, continually following their path of destruction, but today I will savor every moment of the results of my "mom" abilities.

disappearing me

I spent so much time working on "who I am", defining my existence, making a niche for myself in this world.  It was important to me.  It was a driving force behind all of my decisions.  I wanted to stand out, be unique, an individual, a rare example.  It turns out that none of it mattered.  I was selfish and didn't know it.  I know it now.

Not everything changed once I got pregnant.  That's when it started, but I was still over confident.  I thought I had it all figured out.  I could continue working full time.  We could live comfortably in this cute little house I bought.  We would be healthy and happy and want for nothing.

When I first held him in my arms I became a mama bear.  Nothing mattered except him.  For the first time ever, I was focused on someone other than myself.  The intensity of this feeling overwhelmed me.  The sight of him had me grinning uncontrollably.  I cried tears of joy at the very thought of him.  I forgot all about my needs, desires, and comfort and spent up every ounce of energy into giving myself completely to this tiny ball of life that I created.

Suddenly who I was, and who I used to be no longer mattered.  The only thing that matters is who I am now.  My children do not know or even care about who I was.  They only know me for who I am now.  I try to be the best mom I can be for them.  I try really hard and some days I feel like I failed them.  Other days I don't try at all and I feel successful.  I do it all for them.  I am focused on them instead of myself.  I let the old me waste away.  She's no longer important.  Her dreams have faded and instead have been replaced by the new hopes and dreams of what I want for my children.  I want them to be happy, healthy, and good.

When you have a critically ill child, this feeling intensifies a hundred-fold.  Nothing else matters but him.  It is hard to even think about simple things like eating, sleeping, & hygiene.  There are a zillion other things to worry about and stay focused on.  And time is precious.  Why waste time doing stupid, non essential things when you don't know how much time you really have.  It is frustrating.   

I define myself now by my children.  Who they are, is what I am.  I am nothing without them.  The thought of losing him... it would be like losing myself.  Who am I without him?  I would be nothing.  I am scared.

No More Small Potatoes

I feel like a teenager again; invincible and filled with nervous excitement, not knowing what the future holds.  My potential seems limitless.  I have the confidence that I can now accomplish anything.  My future is filled with unknowns but there is a sweet excitement of what lies ahead.  It is an overwhelming swell of positive energy that I can physically feel shining inside me, bursting at the seams.

I feel worlds apart from anyone who doesn't have this light, but I don't mind at all.  I see their strange looks of curiosity, or their blatant stares of confusion, or their flat-out annoyance and avoidance.  I see this but I am not swayed, not concerned, nothing can stop me.  All that matters is how I feel right now, in this very moment, and it is magnificent!

I had set goals before.  I once had dreams.  I have experienced success as well failure.   All small potatoes.  The bar was never set high enough for a real challenge.  The hurdles I had overcome in life were all placed there by me, detours I ultimately created, pressures I put on myself.  Sometime I won, and sometimes I lost.  In retrospect, I never really had anything to lose.  Not like this.

This is was something no one would ever wish for, something no one would ever want; the hardest thing I have ever been faced with in my life.  Something unplanned, unforeseen, unexpected.  This was an obstacle that was not chosen, but a goal that was necessary, unavoidable, and the epitome of importance.  Nothing had ever been this important.  The gravity of the situation paralyzed me at first.  It seemed there was nothing I could do.  Helpless, hopeless, afraid.  I was being hurdled at this insurmountable hurdle, kicking and screaming and terrified out of my mind.

I had no choice but to face this.  There was a voice inside me.  The one who always doubts, always criticizes, always seems reasonable.  The one who stops me from moving ahead, from trying new things, from believing in positive possibilities.   In that moment I chose to not listen to the voice.  I chose to only look toward the positive, the goal that once seemed unattainable.  I narrowed my focus.  The odds that were stacked against a positive outcome were now in my blind spot.  This goal became the center of my life.  My new motto was "whatever it takes."  My determination fed off of positive energy and the energy grew with my determination.  The cycle was endless. 

Astonishment came from people outside of the situation who only saw the negative.  They did not know or understand how I could feel this good, be this happy, seem so calm and relaxed.  The positive energy gave me strength.  And that voice, it has been stunned into silenced.  It is still present, but I imagine it's choking on this potato.  I believed, truly believed, in nothing but the positive.  Some people call this faith.  I had faith that the goal could be achieved.

This achievement was not even mine really, yet I feel so proud of the accomplishment.  This was a matter of life, a life I cherish, a life that has been renewed.  The life of my child.  And although it was not my life that has been saved, I feel the fire of life has been reignited within me.  My life has been irreversibly altered, for the good, by this challenge.  My life has been rejuvenated with hope.  My life is now filled with amazing potential. 

Aspirations and dreams seem attainable.  Setting my sights higher seems only natural.  No more small potatoes. There is endless opportunity, and the hurdles and challenges to get there are now dwarfed in comparison.  I'm taking chances.  Risk seems like such a silly little word.  I am no longer afraid to try new things for fear of failure.  It isn't really true failure.  There is no real risk.  There really is nothing to lose, nothing of importance anyway. 

There is no such thing as failure, only different outcomes, different paths.  The path I am on now is golden, lined with endless rows of giant potatoes of possibilities.  And oh, how I love potatoes!      

 

Open Sesame

Some days are magical.

It starts with rousing from sleep while being covered in little angel kisses, my ears being greeted with the sound of little voices giggling and chanting my favorite name, "mama", my eyes fluttering open to see chubby smiles.  And then I glance at the alarm clock to see it's nearly 10AM.

Is it possible for such a rarity to occur?

Definitely magic.
 
I wash and dress and inspect my appearance in the mirror.  There's a smile there.  Every hair is in place and all the fabric fits perfectly.  Big brother R dresses himself and little R sits quietly allowing me to fix her hair.

They eat all their food, nothing left to throw away: fresh fruits & veggies, cheese & yogurt, and whole wheat bread and crackers.

Some days the magic dissipates with the first tantrum.  And other days, like today, it lingers, filling the voids with incredible happenings.

Big brother R reads his first word.  Little sister R says a new word.  And I find time to bake some cookies and organize all of my coupons.

The kids hug and kiss each other, share their toys, help each other, read to each other.  Their kindness flows over to me as well: hugs and kisses, "may I"s, "please"s and "thank you"s, cuddles galore, and lots of "I love you"s.

All of nature calls to me: the weather beautiful, a strong sweet breeze, the flowers bright and full, the cheerful chirping and busy buzzing.  I breathe it all in.

The positive energy is palpable, even the once lazy cats perk up playful as kittens.  We are all energized in play.  We dance, chase, and discover new acrobatic feats.  We blow bubbles, decorate the drive with chalk masterpieces, and make wishes on dandelions that have gone to seed. 

Nap time and bed time rituals come and go without fights or tears.  A restful sleep brings pleasant dreams.

The next day I decide to keep the magic alive.  I closed my eyes to the messes, pushed the clouds of frustration aside, and ignored the laundry and dishes.  And I was rewarded once again.   

Perhaps the magic is always there and I just opened my heart long enough to see it.