The Joy and Pain of Motherhood...part 1

As I was talking with a friend today, I realized something; motherhood is hard.  It seems it is not hard for a great many people...but I'm pretty convinced they are ALL lying.  I'm sure to those of you not in the trenches of spit-up-no-sleep-poop-everywhere-constant-laundry-whining-battles-and-attitudes it seems exceptionally glamorous (fun even!), but, and listen carefully....it is NOT Glamorous. Or Easy. (It can be fun - and is highly rewarding - but can exhaust you to the core of your being.)

In an effort to dispel some myths....I am offering my mothering life as an example of what Motherhood REALLY looks like.

Motherhood is serious bags under your eyes...from lack of sleep, from no time to eat, from worry about why your child/ren is/are doing....whatever.  

 Motherhood is very stylish....if you enjoy modeling various parts of all food consumed by your natives on your shoulder, stomach, and legs.

Motherhood is just flat out hard.  (Made harder by all those so-called perfect Moms)  I've said this before - it is watching your heart walk around outside your body.  It is watching tears be cried by an infant that you can't soothe.  It is wanting to protect your natives from harm...but knowing they will get hurt and battered and bruised, no matter what you do.  It is constant self-sacrifice.  It is humbling. It is challenging. It is utterly exhausting and completely rewarding.

Motherhood is constant second-guessing of your decisions. Its wondering if you are putting your child in life-long therapy because of anything and everything you've decided. (We figured our children would end up in therapy no matter what...they are OUR children....so we just gave them weird names to hate us for. Problem solved. Now I can screw up all I want!) 

Motherhood is fragments of sentences...it is losing your memory...it is ...something else, but I'm not sure what.

Motherhood is dishes and laundry and dishes and food prep and laundry and dishes and cleaning up and washing hands and messes and laundry and dishes.

Motherhood is MESSY.  (More on the most recent poop explosion another day.)

Motherhood is embarrassing...I highly recommend good locks on the master bedroom door...and they should be used. 

Motherhood is expensive. These little creatures that follow me around grow like, well, beans! Except these beans have to have clothes on them. They are rarely the same size for more than 3 months.

Motherhood is a great many other things...but I can't remember them right now.

I am FAR from a perfect mom - I'm too lazy for pretense. 

But if I could choose any reason in the world to be broke and exhausted - I would still choose my 4 beans. 

(Except in the moments when all 3 beans are crying/snotting/yelling/pitching a fit.....then I want to sell them on EBay.) 

Here the current beans (out of the pod) are...sleeping.  (And I've just decided to change Chilly Bean's name...she is now Bitty Bean because she is so itty-bitty!)

String Bean

Jumping Bean

Bitty Bean

Copyright 2010

Love Letters

My Love is now away. But he did the the most romantic thing - ever - before he left. He left secret notes throughout the house. Little bits of paper that communicate his love for me....and reduce me to tears.

(I'm pregnant and exhausted....I cry. Often.)

The morning after he left I was cleaning off our dresser, and a note fell on the floor. There was another under my Bible. One in Chilly Bean's drawer. One in my drawer. One in my makeup bag. One waiting for me in the pocket of the dress I would wear as a bridesmaid. One on the kitchen counter under my planner.

(I wonder if that was just his fantastic way of getting me to clean the house?? Now I'm hunting everywhere for more notes!)

They have been like little kisses waiting for me all over the house.


Yep. He's a keeper.

In preparation for this deployment, I pulled out our box of love letters.

(I'm extremely creative as you can tell. I'm also very conscious about the environment, which is why I used the box his boots came in as our special box. I even took the time to label it...with masking tape.)

I sat cross-legged on the bed and read through a brief history of our love, while My Love packed his sea bag. Again.

(Aside from our first four months of marriage...My Love's name has had US NAVY attached.)

We reminisced about our dates; our moments that would only be meaningful to us; and our thoughts when writing the words on the page. We laughed at our starry-eyed naivete about all things Navy.  We remembered exactly what it is we love about each other. Yet, in those youthful letters, I was struck with a wonderful realization...


I am incredibly smart.

Oh yes. I went there.

I saw past the amazing hair, the job at the coffee shop, and the inability to dance.  I saw the man that ran away with my heart...flipped my world upside down...and changed my life completely...for the better.  A man with great hair, a fantastic smile, and an easy laugh.  The only man for me. 

So, while the little notes throughout the house are nice (utterly romantic, in fact!), the more important thing is the Man behind the Notes.  The man I love. The man oh-so-much-better than my dreams.

(And yes, he really did have hair at one time!!)

Me and My Love in the dark ages. (Dating)

Copyright 2010

On Beyond Leaving...

I have not completely lost it...yet.
I haven't really had time. Or energy.

I looked at my calendar and wrote down when I could have my breakdown about My Love leaving, and String Bean starting school...Sunday night from 9:00-11:00pm, you'll know where to find me.


Yep. I schedule my breakdowns.  It actually is a bit of a relief.  I know I only have to hold it together...keep most of the tears and freakout moments in check for a few days...and then I can rent that chick flick and sob to my heart's content.  Don't really know if it is a healthy way to do things or not; but its my way, and it works.  (Don't worry - I do cry in front of the beans....I just try not to do the snot-running-down-your-face-lost-all-control-cry in front of them. That would freak them out.)

So I've learned that if I set a particular standing date with myself to lose it...I stay waaaaay more sane. Supposedly.  Maybe not. But it makes me feel better - and you should stop judging me.

My day yesterday was actually REALLY, REALLY, great. However, I would like you to note I didn't say "Smooth," or "Restful." In fact, it had numerous bumps and bruises....and minimal sleep.

After dropping My Love off, spending quality time crying with the beans, driving home, unloading all beans, tucking them to bed, comforting them again, putting away all things that somehow jump out of place, and finally collapsing into bed (glorious BED!), I fell asleep. At 12:30.  Alarm was set to go for 6:00...not a ton of sleep, but definitely workable.  (I've found I can run on 5 hours a night for 5 nights...then I need to recover and get 7 or 8 hours) The theory of sleep is always good....but for a Mama of almost 4...it is most often just an idea, and not an actuality.  Chilly Bean decided to wake up SEVEN TIMES between 1 and 5.  And Boy Bean decided to jump on my bladder - hard - so I also had to wake up one time for my own reasons.

All of you people in the world out there who are sleeping through the night...and maybe even sleeping in on Saturdays....I hate you.  Not really.  But sometimes I am exceedingly jealous.

My Jumping Bean falls, and walks into walls, and trips, and bumps into things, constantly. Really.  WALLS.  (Its not like they move....I don't really get it.)   

But when she is distracted - the poor thing should be wrapped in bubble wrap. Unfortunately, today she was distracted. 

In the span of TEN MINUTES she tripped and smacked her head on the corner of a wall, (Immediate bruising and egg-size-swollen-knot on her forehead) and then twirled and cut her knee, and then closed her fingers in a drawer.

For the record - she is not known for her quiet spirit. There was much yelling. And snot. (I really detest snot. It is just utterly gross...and always on my shoulder.)

Anyway, during all of this..the phone rang...Chilly Bean pooped...String Bean went on a hunger strike (again)...and we all needed shoes on to get out the door in time.

We were late.

And that, is a REALLY, REALLY, great day.

Copyright 2010

Watching My Heart Walk Away.....Part 2

Last night, we did it.  Our family of 5 (and Boy Belly Bean) loaded in the car, drove to the airport on base, said goodbye to My Love, and drove home as a family of 4.  For the rest of the year.

I know, I am a Navy wife and deployments are part of my life. But it doesn't make them easy.  This separation is the first we have experienced in OVER 3 YEARS. My String Bean was the age of Chilly Bean the last time My Love left. So things are quite different this time around.

When My Love walked into the airport terminal after our never-enough hugs and kisses and teary goodbyes; String Bean and Jumping Bean sat down and sobbed. Shoulder wracking cries that broke my heart.

String Bean said, "I don't want Daddy to do this job anymore. Why don't we just go with him?"

Jumping Bean cried...but she was mad too. She didn't want to cry. She wanted Daddy to just turn around and come back. 

And my little baby Chilly Bean?  She watched My Love walk away to the security checkpoint....and called out, "Dada! Dada! Dada!" 

It was gut wrenching and awful. 

Yet, it was a gift. 

Yes, a gift.  We have been given the uncomfortable gift of knowing exactly how much we love someone.  Of knowing their value in our lives. We haven't had to say goodbye to them forever...we aren't staring at test results that tell us the end is near.  Instead, we find that in this awful tearing away, we would rather it hurt to the depth of our beings; than be glad to see them go. 

We are reading through a children's Bible right now with the Beans...one or two stories a day.  Last night, before My Love left, we all sat down to read together. The story was Abraham being called by God...to leave his home, his relatives, everything he knew...and go somewhere unknown. Foreign. Hard. Lonely. But God was WITH him.  We firmly believe we are exactly where we are supposed to be...so this deployment was planned.  There will be hard days.  There will be lonely nights.  There will be times of feeling overwhelmed. But God is WITH US. Just like He was with Abraham as he set out to follow God's direction.   Even though the saying "goodbye" is hard and painful and highly uncomfortable - it does not mean any of us are alone.

So this time the change does not mean packing up our tents and learning a new place...for all of us girls (and the little baby boy!) it means maintaining our tent and learning a new normal.  

For My Love, it means learning many new things and adjusting to life without a hormonal harem....but I'm sure he'll figure out some way to handle the stability in his squadron!

Copyright 2010

Watching my heart walk away....

Today is a momentous day.

I have the rare treat of getting my heart beat up, not one, but TWO separate times.  (Please note the sarcasm.)  It has been said that being a parent feels like watching your heart walk around outside your body...so does being a military spouse.  (More on that tomorrow)

This morning we were awakened 5 minutes before the alarm went off by an extremely excited 5 year old.  Our little String Bean was so excited about her first day of school she woke up...early...on her own....because she "didn't want to be late for school."  (!)  :)

String Bean and her backpack

After the morning routine of feeding, cleaning, and dressing the natives that keep me smiling and exhausted; all 5 of us piled into the "Big Car" and took String Bean to school.  (Hallelujah! Her school starts at 10!)  She was thrilled beyond words - not even a trace of nervousness.  I, however, was inwardly fretting myself to death.  After packing and re-packing her lunch....and worrying about if she had enough food....or too much....or if it was strange and would cause her to be made fun of.....I realized I AM THAT MOTHER.  

You know, the mom who can't let go of her baby?  The one who looks at her big 5 year old child walking into a classroom and wonders if she'll remember......fill in the blank?  You know the mom who has raised her child to be independent and capable - and is thrilled the child actually IS those things - but still has a bit of a sore heart as she watches the tiny baby that brought the gift of motherhood into her life step into the Great Big world? That mom?  Well, That Mom is Me.

I really did fine. No tears. No lump in my throat. Just smiles and pride that my little girl is growing up.

Until.

Jumping Bean all dressed up

Until we had been gone an hour (Having a WONDERFUL time with Jumping Bean and Chilly Bean), and Jumping Bean said "I think we can go get Canaan now."  

I felt the exact same way. 

After we picked String Bean up from school - 4 WHOLE HOURS later - we returned home and heard all about her amazing day.  She truly had the best time ever. EVER.

As My Love and I sat down with her, hearing all about every minute detail, we were thrilled to know it had gone so very well.  Then I reiterated to her what else was happening today.

My Love is deploying.  Until the end of the year.

We will get to take him to the airport late tonight, hug him, kiss him, and leave him.  He will not come home with us.  He will go and do his job.

String Bean sat very still, then she crawled into my lap, and sobbed.

When I asked her what she loves most about Daddy she said, "Everything."

I feel the exact same way.

Copyright 2010

Pregnancy comments...part 2

Yesterday, I posted about a comment from a stranger regarding temporary insanity in pregnancy.

Since I seem to have a knack for garnering interesting and shocking comments on pregnancy from the masses, I thought perhaps I should chronicle "the good ones" from this pregnancy.  During my trip to the commissary yesterday, I was given a TRUE gift in the memorable-comment-department.

(Quick aside - NEVER, EVER, go to the commissary - ANY commissary - on the 1st, or the 15th, of the month. All the armed services get paid on the same two days. Avoid the military complexes on those days AT ALL COSTS!)

Anyway! As we carefully weaved our way through the aisles packed with retirees, sleep-deprived mothers, whining children, and annoyed men; I was suddenly stopped by an overly-excited-twenty-something-female. 

(For the record, being stopped in the aisles was like having a car break down in one of the Hampton Roads tunnels. It stopped ALL TRAFFIC and caused numerous glares in my general direction.)  

She looked at me and said, "How far along are you?! I'm 9 weeks pregnant with my first!" (Insert HUGE smile and patting on exceptionally-flat-abdomen)

I turned from calming Chilly Bean's hysterics over not walking, and giving Jumping Bean the "eye" because she couldn't lay on the floor of the commissary, and said, "Oh, I am 20 weeks along."  

The poor super-thin-trim-flat-stomach-very-comfortable-in-a-bikini girl looked at my stomach with eyes the size of saucers and said, "You are REALLY HUGE. RIGHT?! PLEASE say you are HUGE!!!"

Poor thing.

I grinned and said, "Well, it IS my 4th...but yes, I carry them with a pretty big belly!"

(I was tempted to tell her the belly getting big is not the most shocking of the pregnant changes...stretch marks...loss of bladder control...no more sleeping in....lower back pain...varicose veins...acne...excessive hair growth....but I figured if she fainted in the aisle an angry mob of retirees would jump me for blocking the way!)

Copyright 2010

Let the Comments begin...

Today, as we four women were out and about, I officially heard "a new one."  You know - a comment that people think is original and creative, but actually isn't?  If I could get some $$ for every time I am/have been told: "You have YOUR hands full!" Or, "All girls?  Better keep trying for that BOY!" I would be VERY rich at the moment. (Quick aside - Yes, my hands are full....with exactly what I want! And No - we have never tried for any gender...we've just been blessed beyond belief with each little bean in our pod.)  

But I digress.

The comment I was told today was this..."Do you go crazy when you are pregnant?"  (Bear in mind, this question was posed by a man who's significant other is apparently due in December - she was not present - who just saw me out with my children and my belly, and decided I looked stable enough to ask that particular question.) 

For any of you who know me...or have read anything I have EVER written...you would know I am NOT a stable person!  I have hormones rushing through me at adolescent levels even when I'm not pregnant...so when I AM pregnant the craziness reaches epic proportions.

I guess a good question back would have been, "How do you define 'Crazy?'" 

If the definition of "a sane person" includes someone who would: flip out over an order of lunch meat getting messed up; sob shoulder racking cries while loading clothes in the washing machine; periodically hide from their children in the shower; plan into their week their "break down" time; cry over Hallmark cards randomly...that aren't even sappy; and use the "phone a friend" lifeline as a desperate hunt for her last strand of patience; then I would say, "No! Everyone does not go crazy when they are pregnant!"

(I mean, I haven't tried to kill anyone...yet.)

But really, that definition above does not describe a stable person. It does, however, describe ME.  Not all my facets mind you...I like to keep people on their toes...but definitely some of them!

The poor man looked so overwhelmed with the woman at home who was vacillating between cries, laughter, anger, and panic; (I would em-pathetically assume!) he didn't want the truth.  He just needed comfort. As Jack Nicholson said so eloquently in A Few Good Men: "The truth? You CAN'T handle the truth!"

I smiled. I wiped the ketchup from my stomach, the snot from my shoulder, and the spit from my thigh - and said, "We all have our days. Just love her."  He seemed comforted by that and went on his way.  

The Beans and The pod

Then I sat down and teared up. 

Copyright 2010