#thoughtsandprayers

So today I had to take my youngest to the orthopedic doctor.  She has fractured her patella from dancing too much.  I love that child but she is my little medical money pit! She broke her thumb last fall. And is constantly having issues with her ears and manages to catch every bug that goes around.  Her principal was referring to her as Typhoid Mary during flu season.  And at one point the nurse suggested I keep her home for a few days as she seemed to be catching literally every single thing.

She is devastated that she will not be able to dance this summer.  This is a kid who goes 90 miles an hour at all times.  She dances 6 days a week.  She is a mathlete (super nerd).  She attends the gifted school 1 day a week and her regular school the other 4 days and manages to not only keep up with her regular school but is often ahead of the other kids.  She is mostly helpful at home.  She is 10, so maybe not as helpful as I'd like, but still pretty good. Her social calendar exceeds mine on every level.  So to tell her that she has to be still for the next 6 weeks is really hard for her to swallow.

Her main concerns were swimming and dancing.  She can do neither.   I know this is temporary.  I know forcing her to rest is the best thing for her.  But seeing her face drop just about took out my heart.  I want to fix it for her.  I want her to not hurt.  Basically I want my kid to be her happiest self. 

I realize that is what hover mothers say.  Must keep kids busy.  Must keep kids entertained.  That isn't me.  I am the first one to kick my kids out of the house on a nice day.  If they say they are bored and can't find anything to do, I offer them chores.  They typically find something to do really fast.  I turn off the TV frequently.  We don't play very many video games as I want them reading or getting dirty somewhere out in the neighborhood with their friends.  I have forced my children to become self entertainers.  But when a 10 year old has an immobilization brace, and can barely get around, there aren't a lot of options for finding her own adventure.

I know she will figure out a way to have fun.  But on day one of being still, I just don't know what that will be.  I don't know how to be still.  I am full of nervous energy and anxiety all the time.  I fidget.  I wander around the house.  I go walk around in our yard.  I find reasons to walk to the corner and back.  This will be a learning experience for both of us.  #thoughtsandprayers for our sanity

Welcome to the s#!& show

As you can probably tell by my delayed third post, I like to procrastinate.  It's a terrible habit.  But I need to do this.  I need to share this shit show with the world.  I feel like there are plenty of people out there who are having a similar insane life.  It can't just be me.  Wake up, mad dash to get kids ready, mad dash to get kids to school, rush home get ready for work, rush to work, deal with the idiots of the world all day, rush home to get kids to activities, rush home to make dinner, yell at kids to do homework and fight about why they have to shower (nobody wants to have the stinky kid in class)....  Finally somewhere around 9:30 you get to sit for a minute.  Next to laundry mountain, staring at your messy coffee table.  Wishing you could just have one day off from everything, and then one more day after that to clean the house.  You realize you have barely spoken to your husband so you try to hide you baby fat (I don't care if my kid is now 10, I am still calling it baby fat) under the wide waste band of your super attractive leggings, and you attempt to straighten the comfy tee you put on when you got home, but notice there is a hole in it. (ok multiple holes, shut up) Arms squeezed down by your side he won't notice you have b.o.  Every. Damn. Day.

I am always so grateful that my husband loves me just as I am.   But I often wonder if her really does.  He could not possibly be content with this current life.  Chubby wife.  Messy house.  When we started dating I was just 22.  5'9"  125 lbs.  A fairly quiet human.  I liked to have fun, but nothing too crazy.  Fast forward two kids, 80 lbs, and 16 years and this is not what he signed up for.  Let alone all my antics between when we met and now.  (that is for a different post)  I often just look at him in awe and wonder how he still loves me.  If he still loves me.  Wait.... does he love me?  Oh my God.....  Is he just sitting next me in my fat lady leggings, thinking I am fat and not loving me anymore.... Oh no he wants to leave me.  How is this happening.....  and that ladies and gentleman is how anxiety works.  I am blessed with the most amazing husband and some pretty cool kids, but boy can I spiral fast.  Don't get me started on how the clutter can ruin my day, but thought of dealing with the clutter can also ruin my day.  Yep.  For sure not what he signed up for.

Every day I wake up and I think, today is the day I am going to be awesome.  Today is the day I come home after work and be one of those moms who has it all together.  I will get all the bills paid on time, I will get all the laundry done, my kids will eat a nice dinner and get everywhere on time.  My husband will not see me in my fat lady leggings.  I will wear make-up and look nice.....  This is all around 6:45 as I am waking up.  By 7 I realize I have told myself about 50 lies before I even get out of bed.  By 7:15 I am screaming at the kids to hurry up.  But 7:45 I am rushing to get to their school on time so I can rush back home to get ready for work so that I can rush to my office that is right back by the kids school and not be late (which I will be).... Deal with the idiots at my job all day, come home see laundry mountain.  Screw it. Where are my leggings, and hopefully I have wine and hopefully my husband has time to take the kids to their crap tonight. Make o.k. dinner.  At least one family member hates it.  Finally sit down on couch, notice husband, start cycle all over.

I watch my friends who look they have all their shit together.  And I wonder how they do it.  No one thinks I have my shit together.  I am obviously a hot mess.  There is no hiding.  Where are the other hot mess moms?  How do I find them?  Are they at home in their fat lady leggings, sipping (chugging) wine and just trying to get through one more day?  Maybe.  And maybe one of them will see this and realize they aren't the only one.  I would say 'hot mess moms unite'!  But no one wants to see the many chubby moms in leggings all in one place.  Let's be honest.