When Mama Ain't Happy...

...Ain't no one happy, damn it!

I'm thinking of having this done in some super fancy needlepoint, framing it and hanging it on the wall here. Of course, that might be too subtle.

I'm also shopping around for some fake mystery illness with sudden onset that I can use in times of "I don't feel like doing anything." I'm certain my husband suffers from this very affliction. Why else would intense migraines occur at the very second I mention yardwork? Very, very suspicious. Now, I know it's not really fair to spring such things on my dear husband, but ... well, it's almost freaking April and we still have PILES of leaves all over the damned place from the fall. Sure, I'm probably being unfair - he really *meant* to get to them sooner, but all those pesky illnesses kept overtaking his body each and every time the word "leaves" or "rake" were uttered. It's the strangest thing, really. I just didn't know that most severe allergy symptoms occur at the mere mention of such things.

Now, I could have probably assisted in this endeavor, what with all my *free* time as a stay at home mom. I suppose I could have squeezed it in between mopping/scrubbing coffee spills from the floors and carpet. There's a mysterious trail o'coffee that pops up from the floor below the coffee maker, through the kitchen and dining area, down the stairs, through our family room and into hubbie's office. Now, I'm not pointing fingers, but I think we know who the culprit is. It's the same person who left a cup of coffee on the edge of the coffee table, while he tried to sleep off that damned migraine. The same person who's cup of coffee was spilled all over our light colored carpet while he slept inches away from his children who were running around the table in question.

I completely understand that we have different priorities when it comes to "how clean is clean," but really. How do you *not* notice that your coffee cup is practically overflowing after you pour it, but half empty when you sit your ass down in your office? How do you not notice that the floors are clean when you wake up in the morning, but splashes of coffee spring up wherever you roam? How can you possibly expect me to "let it go" when it happens every. freaking. day?

*sigh*

Oh - stop using my towel and pick up your freaking socks, too. Ok?

Faking it 101 - Cleaning

Before I start, let me first say that I have this anal-retentive desire to have my home in complete order at all times. I am an organizational neat-freak and suffer from perfectionism on this front as well. As a result, I spend waaaay too much time sorting, organizing, reorganizing, resorting and then just end up putting things in piles that I never seem to eliminate. I'm trying to embrace the FlyLady routines as my own, but I often find myself getting irritated by the whole thing. All the emails get dumped into one folder and I can easily have 20 of her messages pile up in an afternoon. I'm thinking this is supposed to be empowering somehow - so many people write in to thank her for helping to eliminate the clutter, clean the house, blah, blah, blah. Then there's me. I'm thinking, "Back off, FlyLady. Quit looking for my missing shoes and piled up laundry, damn it!"

On better days, it helps me to remember that I'm supposed to actually *do* something around the house that doesn't involve checking email or scanning TV listings for every possible X-Files episode that will air in the next 48 hours. I also find that using a timer actually *does* help keep me from over/under-doing it. So - the FlyLady stays. At least she keeps my focus on one room at a time. I'm notorious for starting in one room, finding something that belongs in another room and getting sidetracked on my way to and from. Mommy ADD, I guess.

So here I am, on the eve of a morning playdate for which I can't possibly plan to be awake and I'm feeling the urge to give the house a complete scrubbing, top to bottom. I swear - I really don't want my house to shine as a way of making myself look better than all those other moms out there. But - I actually feel kind of high when someone tells me that they could never have a house as neat as mine.

Here's the problem - I promised my family that I'd stop going off the deep end with my "cleaning disorder" before each and every visitor arrives. Really, does the living room need to look perfect when the UPS guy drops off a delivery? (Yes - I'm *that* insane.) So, I'm trying to figure out what would be a normal amount of cleaning to do before a visit from friends. I'm thinking I can do a once-over of the main bathroom and a quick mop of the kitchen floor. Heh - maybe I can just spray some cleaning products throughout the house so it just *smells* like I cleaned...

Am I the only one who's this nuts?

In my next life...

...this may be the best option!

Trying to Find the Point

After dinner last night, I spent a good chunk of time churning out enough food to cover breakfast for the next few days. I set my alarm and actually got out of bed when it went off. Well ... ok. Shortly *after* it went off, but still! I told my husband I was jumping in the shower and he said he'd give the boys one of the muffins I made. So, I showered, got dressed and finished folding a basket of laundry that I didn't get to last night. All of this was done in about 30 mins *and* before 10:00 AM. Yay, me! I was on my way to the kitchen to complete my final morning task - taking my little pill - when reality jumped from around the corner and sucker punched me.

Banana peels and mashed banana all over the dining room floor. The entire tray of muffins looked like a dog had attacked them - crumbs and torn pieces all over the kitchen. Despite the mess - no one was around. (Hey - at least I know they're smart.) It was obviously created by my little guy - aka The Food Stealer. My husband? He, of course, gave the boys 1 muffin each, sat them in front of the TV in the family room and sealed himself up in his office. I suppose he felt as though he had really pitched in with the muffin-handing-over thing.

So, I sent him an IM, as that is the only way he seems to understand English these days. The message went something like, "I suppose I'm just never supposed to shower again," and told him about the mess that was created in those *30 mins.* His response? He stomped his way up through the dining room and into the kitchen, looked around, shook his head. He then went into the family room and told the Little Monster (as that is how he is known these days) that he was upset with him and not to do it again. He then returned to his office and I suspect he won't be heard from until he's hungry.

Now, I'm not so naive as to expect that 12 muffins would have lasted all week and I certainly didn't expect I wouldn't have to clean up a mess today. But - this is just the latest example of how even my "good days" get de-railed and end up off in a ditch somewhere. I recognize that I am never going to be a morning person, so I do things to try and make up for that. I can't help feeling like my efforts are pointless some days. Today would be one of those days. It's not that I'm feeling sorry for myself - I'm actually angry. Angry that my 2 3/4 year old is acting his age, angry that my 6 year old is oblivious to anything going on around him when the TV is on and angry that my husband can't even pay attention to things while I'm in the damned shower.

Most of all, I'm angry I didn't get a muffin.

TV is not a babysitter...

...it's a trusted au pair at our house.

I swore I wouldn't have children that sat in front of the idiot box for hours on end without blinking. Another goal out the freaking window. I've finally come to the realization that I truly *hate* SpongeBob Squarepants - I actually find myself scowling at the SpongeBob crap that lines store shelves. Now, this has nothing to do with reports of SpongeBob's sexuality or choice in life-mate (what a load of crap!) It has everything to do with the fact that it is the most grating and annoying show I can think of. Well, except for Ed, Edd and Eddy. Hate them, too. Parental controls took care of that one. May have to use another for SpongeBob.

At least right now, I can kid myself by saying I'm trying to accomplish several things while the boys zone off watching Monsters, Inc. The first - I may actually be able to take a shower without some little fingers coming under the door and hearing, "Mom? What are you doing, Mom?" The second? I'm desensitizing my 2 1/2 year old. Yup. Monsters have apparently taken over his bedroom at night and I'm too tired to chase them away. I'm hoping Mike and Sully will make the monsters seem ok. Heck, maybe they can convince him to sleep in for me.

Accountability or Accomplishments?

On another blog I've been reading lately, the owner has an accountability list for the things she wants to get done everyday. I'm thinking I should probably put something like this together for myself, but I'm not so sure I'd actually *do* the things on it. Wouldn't it be more depressing if I was flunking my own accountability test?

I think an alternative might be listing the things I actually accomplish during the day. Maybe if I recognize that I'm actually getting some stuff done, I wouldn't feel so overwhelmed by the stuff I didn't get to do. I know that I'm probably putting some unrealistic expectations on myself, but there's certainly a lot of stuff that I most definitely should be doing - and I'm not. My boys are spending waaaaay too much time flying solo - and that's just unacceptable. I really need to get working on that daily routine and stick to it. Where the heck is that SuperNanny? My boys aren't the ones who need the behavior adjustment. I wonder if she can teach them how to get me to do the right thing.

Ok - so goal for tomorrow? Get my ever-growing rear end out of bed and actually make breakfast for the boys. Telling them to just grab a banana is no longer working and I may need to diffuse a mutiny. Can't say that I blame them.

Meds

I've just hit the 3 week mark of daily Wellbutrin XL (150 mg) and I'm starting to wonder if this is the right thing. I really believe it has taken "the edge" off for me, but I'm still not feeling like I think I *should* be feeling. I know it's a low dose, so maybe it just needs to be increased or something. At any rate, I'm not finding it necessary to pop a Xanax every day. I guess that's an improvement! Of course, a lot of my anxiety is tied up in leaving the house, so if I don't go anywhere...

I guess I was just expecting to be dancing on the mountaintop at this point.

The Best of Intentions

Well, despite the best of intentions, I'm still doing a shit job as Mom this week.

I'm starting to wonder if the whole "Depression/Anxiety" diagnosis is missing the mark... Is there a diagnosis for Irritated, Resentful Bitch? That seems more appropriate.

I've been trying to figure out exactly what I've been feeling. Right now, it's pretty close to, "Who the hell are these kids and why do they keep interrupting me?!?!" I keep flashing back to those Calgon commercials when I was growing up and I've finally figured out a way for the "Calgon, take me away" thing to work. If I could only seal off the tub in a soundproof room with a steady flow of Xanax, Ben and Jerry's Vanilla Caramel Fudge and wireless internet access...

Dh just asked if I need a day off and whether or not I wanted him to come with me.

Ha!

Yeah right. Like that's even an option. There's no way I could leave for more than a few hours without my cell phone ringing and calling me back.

Faking It 101 - Cooking

As someone who continues to strive for that unrealistic organizational perfection despite having 2 children and a husband who can't put *anything* away, I've found several tools that are helping me to fake it. For this post, I'm going to focus on cooking.

Now, I must first state that my children have some food issues that make going out for dinner close to impossible. Real, medically documented and treated food issues. As a result, I'm responsible for preparing just about everything they consume from scratch with alternative ingredients. This could be a whole 'nother blog - but I've accepted this as how life "just is" for us. There's really not much to be gained from wishing we were normal or recreating failed attempts to eat like the rest of the world. (Besides - have you researched *your* food lately? It's scary - our food supply is a horror show of unseen health hazards.)

The point of revealing this? Preparing dinner (ok - all meals) was a chore that I dreaded after a long day of chasing after 2 kids. I'm tired. It was so nice to send my husband out for a pizza on those days when pulling my hair out seemed like the only remaining option. Those days are gone.

Now - I'm a pretty good cook when I *feel* like being a good cook. At the end of the day, there's not much motivation to put a lot of thought into what we're going to eat. So - started writing out my menu plans and planning my shopping lists from them. Not only does it save me on the "what the heck am I going to feed them?" dinner scramble - but it saves me a few dollars at the store, too. I have a lot less rotten produce. :)

Also - I'm not a morning person. Never have been, probably never will be. Having a plan helps me plan out a day or so in advance when I'm in a productive mood. My best time for taking care of household things is generally 12-3 , so I can get things in the crockpot for dinner, bake muffins or cookies for breakfast or snack and pull lunch together all at the same time. This doesn't work for everyone - but it works for me.

I've also found http://www.savingdinner.com to be well worth the $. The low carb menu is adaptable to our food issues, so I can print off their recipes and shuffle them around where I need them. After a few weeks, I had enough to start using them for lunches, too.

Favorite kitchen equipment? A microplane grater/zester, my Cuisinart food processor, KitchenAid standing mixer, a hand blender (immersion blender with detachable parts) and my recently acquired apple peeler/corer/slicer.

Having a plan of attack for our meals has really helped me to feel a little more pulled together. Yes - it takes some time to plan this out each week, but for me, it's better to devote the mental energy (usually 30-60 mins) all at once rather than with each meal.

Formulating the Plan

I, former SuperMom wannabe, do solemnly swear to:

1 - play
2 - step away from the computer
3 - spend a significant amount of each day doing something that is completely silly, fun and absolutely unnecessary
4 - spend 30 minutes doing something that's just for me
5 - worry less about how my house looks to the outside world and more about how much fun I am to live with
6 - give my husband a break - but *ask* for what I need him to do.
7 - quit my bitching and formulate a plan
8 - establish a daily schedule and stick to it
9 - leave my house at least one per day, except on a designated family pajama day!
10 - sleep

Super Mom Is Dead

I know - I killed her.

For years, I listened to the messages passed down through television, movies, public figures. I was certain I could have it all - a successful career, a happy marriage, perfect children. I knew I would feel happy, fulfilled and thankful for my wonderfully full and rewarding life.

Then reality happened.

Now, I must tell you - I love my husband. I love my children. My family is incredibly important to me and I can't imagine my life any other way.

But - it's nowhere near what I expected my life to be.

As someone who was extremely social and rarely missed a happy hour during my college years, I expected my adult life would be just a little less of the same. I made friends easily, was generally up for anything fun and lived on very little sleep. I battled with bouts of insomnia quite regularly, but it never seemed to slow me down very much.

Then, I became a mom. Not *only* a mom - a single mom. I was solely responsible for taking care of this helpless little person. I had the support of my family - which meant a lot - but I was alone, nonetheless. After delivery, I had the usual emotional ups and downs due to the insane hormonal fluctuations. I was overwhelmed with where my life had taken me - and I was scared to death I was going to screw it up for my new little boy. Luckily, I was able to spend the first few months postpartum with my parents. They really helped me out while I recovered from a difficult delivery and c-section.

After 3 months, I needed to go back to work. I had no savings and a mountain of debt. My "live for the moment" attitude needed major adjustment.

Fast forward a year and a half later - I meet someone and fall in love. Six months later, we're living together. Financially, we're struggling - but we're functioning as a family. We were both working insane hours to make ends meet, paying rent that was a major strain on our financial situation. My 2 year old was in daycare for 9 hours per day - and I was too tired to play when we were home. A little less than a year later, we are married and expecting another baby. We move to another town, in favor of lower rent and a quieter neighborhood. After baby #2 is born, I decide to look for employment closer to home, in order to eliminate 2 hours of commuting each day. My husband and I are both exhausted all of the time and I feel like I'm being pulled in a million different directions. I manage to make it through 10 more months of juggling my full time job and my family before I decide that enough is enough.

This was no small decision. I spent a ton of money getting my college degree because I *wanted* to work. I *liked* working. The problem was - I wanted to be a good mom *and* good at my job working with at-risk youth. My emotionally draining job was spilling over into my personal life and vice versa. I started to feel like both parts of my life were slipping through my fingers and that things were unravelling. So - my husband and I worked out a plan that allowed me to stay home with our boys.

The new plan was more than a financial adjustment. My life transformed from a fast paced juggling act to what seemed like a dead stop. I felt like my brain cells were dying one by one - with each little nursery rhyme, animated series and talking dinosaur. I found myself, day after day, in frumpy comfy sweats and a ponytail - with the occasional pair of jeans for those special days when a trip to the grocery store was unavoidable. I couldn't figure out why I just couldn't get it together to do all of the things I was "supposed" to do as a stay at home mom, trying to nurture my family. To add more to the pile, we decided to homeschool our children. It was clear that my older child was gifted - and it was even more clear that he had some "issues" that would have made him a terror in a classroom setting. I felt even more over my head, but I knew it was the right thing for us.

Another year later, another move and still struggling to find a rhythm as a stay at home mom had me close to banging my head against the wall. I had lost my patience somewhere along the way -- and I'm certain it's in hiding with those lost brain cells. I finally decided it was time to talk to my doctor about how I'd been feeling. I told her how anxious I was about the most mundane activities - and how that anxiety prevented me from doing some of the most basic, everyday things. I avoided going places because I was sure I'd end up dead on the highway somewhere. My weight was out of control and I frequently felt hopeless about ever feeling content with my life. It was a lonely place - and my husband and children couldn't do anything to pull me out of it. My doctor suggested I try medication for depression and anxiety. In retrospect, I believe I'd been teetering on the edge of depression for 10 years.

That's where I was as of 3 weeks ago.

I'm starting to feel less trapped by my life choices. I'm still not so sure how I ended up where I am, but I know I'm where I belong. I've made peace with my choice to give up my career intentions, despite what I hear about women having it "all." What I've come to realize is - no one can dictate what "all" means for every woman. For me, I want "all" to mean a happy, healthy, loving and content family life. I'm slowly working my way to having it all. In order to get there, I had to kill the myth of SuperMom.