Being a parent means.....

1. Downloading a song that totally ANNOYS you to no end, just because your kids love it (then, secretly, you actually start to enjoy it, too).

2. Looking forward to watching Hannah Montana with your kids (or, without).

3. Making enough PB & J sandwhiches to feed 15 different countries.

4. Realizing you've actually slept 5 hours uninterrupted and feeling totally well rested!

5. Not caring how bad your vocals are when you sing to your children in public.

6. You look every bit of your age + 5 years.

7. You cry at the drop of a hat....at movies, TV shows, commercials, rain, people walking their dogs....

8. Writing a 'mom-blog' because you now feel a strange connection to every woman out there who is a mother.

Boys VS. Girls.....

Little boys LOVE their mommies....until about 3 or 4 when all they care about is crashing cars, sword fights, and coming up with new, creative ways to torture their younger siblings.

Little girls will begin to 'establish dominance' at around 10 months....because by this time, mommy & daddy are totally whooped, and can do nothing about it.

Ella's story....

I prayed and prayed, then waited for 18 months to become pregnant with my daugther, Ella Rae. After having my son, Conner Jaycob (who's first year of life was a nightmare), I decided I did not want him to be an only child as I had.
After 1 surgery, and 5 months of Clomid therapy, I had given up hope. I was jealous of women around me who got pregnant so easily, and I found myself focusing more on that, than what I should be thankful for, which was my amazing husband and adorable son.
On the day we arrived in North Carolina (by way of Southern California), I discovered I was pregnant. This came after an intense trip across the country, uprooting our family for a better life, and 3 months after watching my mother die of breast cancer. I felt alone and scared.
It was a horrible pregnancy. I bled frequently in the beginning, had severe migraines and vomited constantly, was diagnosed with placenta previa and then went into labor at 32 weeks. I was hospitalized and put on Magnesium (which is a fate I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy), not once, but two seperate times. Both times, I prayed for death. I was angry with God and told him that if he was ready to take her from me, NOW was the time. If I gave birth to this child, and she became part of our lives completely, He was not allowed to take her away.
Needless to say, she came into this world, and we fell utterly in love with her. She has been a true miracle in our lives.
I have always felt like something might be "wrong" and have always had this intense fear that she would be taken from us too soon. Have I showed her more love and affection than our 4yo son? Probably. Is this a result of wanting her for so long? Probably. Do I feel incredibly guilty about this?? ABSOLUTELY.
As it turns out, I have been to more specialists with this child than I had been with my firstborn, and I never thought that would be possible!
I constantly question why I am put to these feats of strength. What do I have to prove? How much must I go through before I have a total meltdown and am of no use to my children or husband??

No one ever told me....

I had no idea that being a mother would bring such heartbreak, anxiety, fear, sleeplessness, anger, willingness to fight a perfect stranger.....along with so much love, appreciation, compassion, protectiveness, and willingness to give one's own life to protect that of your offspring. If I'd had a 'normal' relationship with my own mother, perhaps I could have prepared myself for at least some of these emotions.

I always saw my friends who'd had kids and thought "there's no way I'm putting myself through that". I could see the utter exhaustion and defeat on their faces, not to mention all that they'd had to sacrifice. But then I had to go and fall in love, and get married. The natural progression was that kids would follow. If I'd known that all that "sacrifice" included stretch marks, cellulite, doubt, loss of brain cells, or turning into my own mother (or atleast, trying NOT to become her), I'm not quite sure I would have taken on this heroic task.

But, alas, here I am....stay-at-home mother of two young children, consumed in their every day lives, shower and privacy deprived...and I wouldn't have it any other way.

My Top 13 reasons why.....

I fully advocate the use of prescription medication or alcohol for all mothers, without question or fear of judgement, for any or all of the following reasons… (Note: author does not condone the use of recreational drugs)

1. you can no longer use the excuse “baby weight”, because your “baby” is in 6th grade

2. the 8 cups of coffee you have every morning for survival no longer have the same desired affect

3. you have family or in-laws visiting

4. you are a stay-at-home mom, or a working mom

5. you realize it may be years before you actually get to shower or use the bathroom without an audience

6. you find yourself wearing sweatpants and your husbands old t-shirts on a daily basis

7. you can’t remember the last time you brushed your teeth or washed your hair

8. your idea of a homemade meal is a frozen pizza that you added extra cheese and vegetables to

9. you feel like every cough, sneeze, and runny nose MUST be that rare disease you heard about on Dateline

10. the nurse at your pediatricians office is now one of your closest friends because you talk to HER more than your friends & family combined

11. Facebook has become your only connection to the outside world

12. you find yourself singing along to the Imagination Movers in the car, except….you are alone

and finally…..

13. your baby/child is experiencing any of the following: colic, teething, any form of sickness, reflux, crawling, learning to walk, biting, learning to talk, learning to talk back, potty training (which may actually require a temporary increase in dosage), starting school, learning how to drive, going on their first date, leaving for college....

Just Another Monday...

At my sons very first dentist appointment, I’m standing at the counter filling out totally unnecessary medical history on a 4 year old (i.e. ‘history of alcohol abuse?’, ‘depression?’, ‘have you ever been diagnosed with anxiety?’). I wanted to ask the receptionist if these were questions about ME (in which case, YES, to all of the above - I’m a mother, after all).

As I’m yelling at said 4 year old while he is across the lobby destroying some wood tree house sculpture, feeling secure that my 8 month old baby is strapped safely into her stroller behind me…. (and for once feeling like just “maybe” I have things under control)…I hear “ma’am, is that your baby crawling down the hallway??”

You know you are an unfit mother when....

A. You forget to buckle one (or both) of your children into their carseats before driving

B. Your 4 year old has to wak you up to tell you the baby is screaming because you actually forgot to turn ON the monitor

C. You find your 4 year old eating frozen chicken out of the freezer, because he told you he was hungry an hour ago and you totally forgot

D. ALL OF THE ABOVE