But you know, I’ve got a 10yr old, a 7yr old and a 4yr old that are more than capable of doing chores. So guess what? Mean Mommy has been thoroughly dusted off and put to work. The kids are required to clean up after themselves every day. They don’t like it much and I get a lot of attitude. That’s ok. I have even started encouraging the 2yo to put things away.

I think for a long time I was terrified of my kids not liking me. Even after Ariel and her mother moved in I was horrified by the idea that she might not LIKE me. But you know what? Pooh on that. It’s my responsibility to be their parent (or in Ariel’s case, her god-parent), not their friend. In a way it makes me kind of sad. I’m afraid, I think, that my kids will grow up with a negative perception of me. It’s a very real fear of mine. Maybe that’s a normal fear.

In some respects my parents prepared me for taking care of myself better than many of the people I know. One thing that my parents did that I absolutely abhorred growing up was chores (I’ve yet to meet a kid that LIKES chores). Now, in my house chores were um, stringent. From the time I was about Ariel’s age, I had my room, overseeing the kid’s rooms (those of my youngest sibs) the upstairs bathroom (which was technically my sisters’ job but she was much younger than me so really, it was my job) plus the kitchen, the dining room and on days when my brother was unavailable, the living room, the closets and the hallway (which largely amounted to dusting and vacuuming). It doesn’t sound like all that big of a deal until you enter my dad’s idea of an inspection into the picture. The brother I shared most of the chores with had his own things to deal with. If I was doing his chores that weekend it was only because he’d been drafted into doing some other kind of chore. Like yard-work. His mowing and trimming had to be every bit as thorough as my cleaning. More often he was helping my dad on a house project, reloading ammo, organizing his office, fixing the car, whatever. One thing we learned growing up was that working, in one form or another, is part of living. We also learned to work together, to identify and implement the steps needed to complete a job and to take pride in a job well done.

The point here is that on the one hand, as a parent, I think the things we were expected to do and harshly punished for screwing up were a bit over the top. On the other hand, we learned a lot about what doing things right looked like. Though I have to say, I pretty much refuse to pull out my stove or fridge unless absolutely necessary (this was a weekly requirement growing up). I wouldn’t have made it in the military.

The frustration of keeping up with my kids was driving me crazy! Then I realized, by the time I was Morgan’s age I was regularly expected to do dishes, fold laundry (which I sucked at) and handle pretty basic chores (like vacuuming and dusting). I’m positive that I remember doing them more effectively than I actually did them, lol. I argued with myself about it until one day I realized that some of my resentment and frustration was at my kids for not appreciating or respecting what is done for them. But, well, how can they respect or appreciate something they don’t understand? I realized that while I may not always agree with the way my parents chose to implement the lessons they taught me, I agree with the lessons!

After much thought, I’ve realized that my parents demonstrated a lot of faith in us kids. We got reprimanded for doing a lousy job because my parents KNEW we could do better. It wasn’t that they wanted to force us to do something outside of our abilities but that they wanted to see us to do it RIGHT because they knew we could. I’ve come to understand that while it’s important to not expect more from my children than they can reasonably handle, it’s equally important for me to recognize that they are quite capable human beings. In some ways, not expecting them to do things for themselves is essentially demonstrating a lack of faith in their abilities and that’s just not fair.

It is not an easy thing for me to be stern and keep being firm until a job is done right. Those fears come back: what if they hate me? What if they think I just want a slave? On the other hand, how on earth can I expect my children to learn to respect and appreciate the other people in their lives if they are never required to have any responsibility of their own? Do I really want to wake up one day with a couple of teenagers that can’t even be bothered to do their own laundry or clean off their own places after a meal? NO. I want my kids to go out into the world as prepared as they can be to deal with life. I cannot give my children an education; that is something they must apply themselves to on their own. But I can teach them responsibility and it just so happens that in doing so, I also get to transfer my work energy away from picking up toys for the 400th time in an afternoon and focus it instead on directing the growth of little minds.

Another reason I resisted the chore thing for so long was, to be honest, a kind of laziness. It might seem like making the kids do the work is being lazy but in reality, it’s MORE work than doing it myself, most of the time. It’s not like I can say “go clean the living room” and come in half an hour later to a sparkling, domestic paradise. The reality is that each step involved in cleaning up an area must be directed and supervised, making “clean the living room” into a two hour project sometimes. Truthfully, while it’s nice not to be the one cleaning up the junk off the table, in reality it’s not less work for me, it’s just different work.

However, the process of properly cleaning a room isn’t any different than any other job my kids are going to have to do in their lives. It’s not, at the end of the day, the fact that they’re cleaning off their places at the end of a meal that’s the big deal. What really matters is that they are learning skills that are applicable in every facet of their life moving forward. I know adults that are much older than me that cannot walk into a messy room and clean it without having a panic attack or dealing with anxiety about the sheer amount of work that needs to be done. It is painfully difficult for them to break the work down into projects that can be handled a bit at a time. I think many people do not realize how important being able to walk into a disaster and make it right actually is to the rest of their lives.

While I certainly did not appreciate this as a child or a teenager, my parents gave all four of us kids something that is invaluable. I can walk into just about any situation, learn about what is going on, break it down into bite size pieces and tackle a problem until it’s completion. I learned this, believe it or not, from doing chores and being required to do them correctly. Sure, other things in my life have added to that education but the groundwork was laid at home, by parents I believed just wanted four little slaves.

Figuring out how to implement this kind of education in my own home has been more challenging than I thought it would be. For one thing, I’m dealing with four different levels of ability. For example, Ariel is ten years old. If she vacuums the floor and it looks like she didn’t even try, it’s because she didn’t even try. If I ask Abigail to do it and it looks like she didn’t even try it’s because she’s only four years old and doesn’t understand the steps involved in doing it well. This means that after she’s completed her assigned task, I have to do it over again anyway. Which is frustrating but what’s important is that Abby is learning to do things for herself and participate in keeping the home nice for everyone else, too.

Aside from cleaning up after themselves, I think the most important thing they are learning right now is that none of us live in a vacuum. “But I didn’t make the mess” is never, ever an acceptable response to me. I recently heard myself suggesting to certain young lady that I saw no reason whatsoever why I should wash clothes or cook food I wasn’t going to be wearing or eating. I mean, sure, she may not have been the *only* person who dumped bits of dirt, crumbs and candy-wrappers on the carpet but so what? How many people grow up in life and have this ridiculous idea that the only person they are ever responsible for is themselves? No. You live in a home and it’s a community made up of the people that live in it. The bottom line is that in this crazy world, we have to take care of each other and work together from time to time for everyone’s benefit.

It totally starts at home, cleaning toilets, vacuuming floors and cleaning up after little brothers.

So my friends, what’s new, what’s happening?   How’s life?

I’m beginning to understand, more now than ever before, that life is really freaking complicated sometimes.  Occasionally it’s necessary to just sit back and let everything go and just know, deep down, that in the end, life is actually pretty damn simple.  We’re born, we eat, we struggle, we live, we die.  There’s a comfort of sorts in that simplicity.  If only it was recognizable in day to day life, eh?

My kids are all at these stages of different growth where their age differences are suddenly standing out in sharp relief to each other.  As frustrating as it can be in random moments, it’s really fun to watch.  I know I’ve said it a million times but I never get tired of doing so: I just love watching them.  I do.  I love how intensely different their personalities are, how obviously they are their own, unique people.

Take my oldest, for example.  Morgan just turned seven (where does that time go?) and she’s reading!  I mean, she’s reading very well!  I’m so impressed with her determination to conquer and master new skills- even when it’s accompanied by a whole lot of complaining.  She’s quite bright (sometimes entirely too much so, I might add) and she can be very snarky but she’s also got a budding sense of responsibility already and she loves and cares for her siblings in ways that make me smile.  Also, while I may be somewhat biased, she’s gorgeous.  I mean yeah, she’s got that awkward thing going on right now: She’s got a mouth full of half adult teeth and half little kid teeth, complete with an adorable gap in between her two front teeth!  She has a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose that are just picture perfect.  She still has stick-out ears that I, personally, think are charming but she’s rather sensitive about them as people comment on them a lot.  Her eyes are still enchanting, though their color has totally changed.  She still has half a brown left eye but instead of being a grey-ish blue color, they are now quite green hazel.  With a pert nose, pretty mouth, my little girl is a looker.  :)  She loves to “teach” or help other people learn to do new things and she’s quite curious about just about everything.  I love her intelligent questions and she’s continuously surprising me with the connections she makes.

Abigail’s personality seems to  grow in depth by the day.  She’s still as energetic and passionate as ever but the softer parts of her personality come to light more often these days.  I’m still completely flabbergasted by how quickly she can go from angelic and happy to shrieking with rage and back to perfectly complacent again.  Abigail reminds me of the ocean: her moods are complicated, unpredictable and breathtaking.

Her nurturing personality is really coming out in spades lately.  While she can be as temperamental and nasty as any other 4 year old, she has a sweetness about her that is completely entrancing.  She very seriously takes care of her “babies” (a whole host of baby dolls, stuffed animals and, hilariously, her little brother and the animals in the house).  She takes these duties very seriously and her imagination is constantly going at top speed.  It’s almost like she lives very strongly in her own little world.  I have a suspicion that she is going to be an avid reader.  She is always talking to her babies, and then pretending in a different little voice that they are talking back to her.  She steals Ethan’s diapers and clothes, bottles and blankets, so that she may better care for her “littles”.  She “cooks” for them and puts them down for naps, kisses their booboos and makes sure they are cuddled and kissed and disciplined, all day every day.  She absolutely adores her big sister and gets very personally offended whenever Morgan really just needs a little space.  She’s very firm with me when she thinks Ethan needs or wants something (Mommy!  Ethan’s CRYING!!!  as if I can’t HEAR him).  She has discovered her own little friends around here and never misses an opportunity to tell them how much she loves them.  Well, that is when she’s not shrieking at them for some reason (holy hell 4 year olds are loud.  I thought it was just my kid but NOPE.  It seems every child between the ages of 3 and 7 on this block does everything at about “screaming” volume).  I’m very much looking forward to when she starts school.  Not so much because of the “peace and quiet” factor (though there is a little bit of that, too) but because as her awareness expands, it will be interesting to watch her discover more about herself and see how it affects the way she thinks, the choices she makes and how she interacts with her peers.

Of course, there is also my Little Man, my Ethan.  He’s at that stage where he’s got something new going on every day.  Recently, he decided that climbing up and down the stairs via the use of his knees and coming down backwards is for sissies.  Upright and one at time, facing the correct direction, is the only way he’ll do the stairs, now.   Right this second he is coming down stairs hollering about some slight one of his sisters did to him.  I am just absolutely loving his new-found verbiage.  Ethan has come into talking much more slowly than either one of his sisters, beings as he just turned two and still does not speak in sentences recognizably.  I don’t feel that he’s delayed at all, though: Morgan was speaking in full blown, complex sentences at 2years old and that was a bit ahead of the curve.  Abigail was a bit more average in her ability, speaking in full sentences at 2yrs old: except her enunciation was so poor that actually understanding what she was saying was challenging for us and nearly impossible for anyone that didn’t listen to her babble all day.  Ethan’s enunciation isn’t all that great but it’s generally understandable and while he doesn’t speak in sentences, exactly, he is very good at making himself understood.  I feel that sentences are right around the corner as he often babbles nonsense words in an attempt to make a “sentence”, particularly when he’s complaining about something or asking for something.  I just  love his hair, too, all wild and curly and soft; it’s like a halo of innocence that crowns his head.

My son is a nudist, though.  He is definitely interested in  clothes and really gets into getting “dressed” and “undressed”.  By this I mean that he likes to wear shirts like skirts and take them on and off throughout the day.  He’s almost 100% out of diapers: during the day he only wears them if I have to go out somewhere or I want to send him outside.  As long as he’s not wearing a diaper, he uses the potty on his own, without being reminded or making mistakes.  He is SO good at it and it’s entirely coming from his own motivation.  Have I mentioned how much I love the driving principles behind EC?  Even though I did not fully EC him, I used the principles as I know them as I really don’t know any other way to “potty train” a child.  It works!  All I did was leave a potty out and let him run around naked.  Whenever I saw him start to pee, I’d point at his little penis and tell him “Ah AH! Don’t pee on the floor…pee in the potty!” and I’d redirect my pointing towards his little potty.  After a couple of day of that, he started using the potty by himself and then bringing it to me to show me he’d caught a pee.  He still does this and it’s SO cute.  He can also climb on and off the big potty on his own and doesn’t even like an insert.  I just love watching children figure things out on their own.  It’s really amazing how complex their little minds are and how uniquely they will approach a given situation and solve whatever puzzles are inherent in it.  but this brings us back to my son’s general nudist preferences.  He has a terrible time getting pants and undies or pull-ups OFF while still managing to pee in a potty.  As such, he prefers to run about without any on and really, if I have a choice between cleaning up dirty baby bum or having a naked little gelfling running about, I am GOING to become very comfortable with my son’s little bits waving about in the breeze, mmmkay?  Right now my little man is running about with only socks on.  He absolutely loves socks and shoes and he’s usually wearing something of that nature on his feet and rarely do the shoes he pics belong to him.  He especially loves Abigail’s new sparkly, silvery, light-up shoes.  Nothing like a naked little streaker running about in BLING shoes.

I started this entry a month ago.  A MONTH.  Suffice to say it’s been a very busy summer!  Changes have come, gone and come again and while the evolution of our family, our lives and my inner spirit has been immense, positive and challenging, it hasn’t meshed well with my internet life, lol.

My husband has been the most gallant of men when it comes to trying to adjust to our recent changes with grace. Despite misgivings here and there, he’s been supportive in every possible way and I really wanted him to know I was grateful. Do you see where this is going? Saturday morning came around and it was decided that we were going to have “family night”. I was really excited and in a seriously amazing mood. The little one was napping, the girls were occupied upstairs, behind a closed door and I had this silly idea that surprise “attentions” to my husband in the living room could be safely engaged upon. Thankfully, we thought to be somewhat discrete.

I’m going to go ahead and flatter myself by telling you all that though he was supposed to be keeping watch (as I was on my knees…hehe) I proved to be entirely too distracting and Abby, who is usually like a heard of elephants wherever she goes, apparently is capable of being a ninja when her little “I’m not supposed to be here” alarms go off. I was…busy so I didn’t see her coming down the stairs. Thankfully, as I said, we were being “discrete” and he saw her before we were really in trouble and so, I simply gave him a hug in the arm chair and she was none the wiser…I hope. I mean, he was seated, we were both fully clothed, etc etc. But we looked guilty. And she said, “Hey! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!!?!” I’m afraid my wits left me in that moment. I just smiled and dh said, “Noooothin….” It couldn’t be helped, we both burst out laughing. So there I am, having moved to sitting in his lap to give him an opportunity to, er, recover, when she says, “Well…stop it. Whatever you’re doing, just stop.”

Nonplussed we inquired as to why we should do so. She says, “Because it looks TERRIBLE!”

She’s now on her rocking horse, apparently delighting in the obvious discomfiture of her parents and giving up all pretenses of returning upstairs. She then tells me I have to *get off Daddy* because I’m TOO BIG and will hurt him. By this time Tony is positively shaking with laughter and I’m trying my best to appear offended but I’m afraid I couldn’t stop laughing either.

So, one moment totally ruined but another one created that I shall remember to my dying day. Every now and then I turn to Tony and say, “it looks TERRIBLE!!” to him and it’s all laughter again. Abigail has absolutely no idea what was going on, saw nothing other than me apparently “hugging” his lap but her stern attitude and scolding commands were so hilarious that I just had to share.

So where the hell have I been, then? Well, see…I got a job. I know, I know, am I crazy!? Short answer? YES. I have been blessed with the opportunity to work from home. Thanks to a friend of mine meeting someone, I now have almost full-time work. To say it’s been an adjustment would be an understatement. In fact, we’re still adjusting. But we’re doing well! That is primarily where I’ve been, though. Trying to figure out how to be a WAHM without completely loosing my mind, my priorities and my sanity, did I mention that already? I love writing with all of my whole heart and that is what I’ve got a job doing. Hard to beat that, eh?

Can I just say, that I love our home? Now that spring is well underway (and btw, would someone please tell MD that it is still technically spring, NOT summer, and that 80deg by 9am just isn’t cool?) and the neighborhood children have been coming out to play, I have nothing but good things to say about my neighbors. In fact, I think this might be the most friendly neighborhood I’ve ever lived in. We are having some troubles with the house (nothing that makes me upset we bought it, though) but overall, we’re quite happy.

The kids are doing very well. Abigail and Morgan both have friends they play with nearly every day. In fact, recently, one of Abby’s little friends (she lives next door) came to have dinner with Abby. As we were eating, Abby looked at her in amazement and said, “I can’t believe you’re here!”. The entire exchange between the two of them was too precious for words. It began to storm shortly after that and I realized that those two are cut form the same mold. They were both standing in the kitchen windows, SCREAMING at the tops of their lungs with delight at the thunder and lightening. Abby has never had a friend of her own before and it’s filled my heart to bursting watching her develop her own relationships.

Morgan also has new friends and all of the kids in the neighborhood play together. It’s awesome. Our neighbors are just really friendly, decent people and it’s nice to live in a row of houses where everyone around me has kids in similar age groups. I feel like we fit in, here, and that our children are happy and that we can be happy here for a long time.

Ethan is growing like a weed and has recently (finally?) begun talking as opposed to incessantly babbling. Of my children, he started babbling the earliest (I mean, he’s been a “talker” since birth) but he is by FAR the latest talker. Morgan was speaking in full-blown sentences by his age. Abigail had 2-3 word sentences down by this age and Ethan is still working on words and the occasional phrase, lol. But he went from having maybe 4 words to quite a few over night. I love his little voice and I love the fact that even when he isn’t saying words I understand, he’s obviously quite convinced he is and just chatters away!

Tony is finished with his semester and won’t be starting up again until after the summer and that is such a relief, lemme tell you. If I’m feeling it, I know he is.

I wish I had the time to write more about every detail but the reality that it’s not really anything different than before, other than the job. My children play and get into trouble (Yes, my walls are truly very well decorated now, complete with lipstick kiss-marks and all), my husband and I play games, fight, play games. We spend a LOT of time outside and I spend many of my waking hours working, as does dh. The younger two children spend their days with their God Mother and I can’t express enough how much I appreciate it.

I haven’t left. I still read, I still intend on posting. I’m just very busy. What’s new with you?

Abigail turned four on the 19th! My perfect little Teeny Tiny is FOUR, people. I was so horribly sick the day before (I seriously ran a temp that got to 105.8. It was pretty bad) that I could not even get off the couch. But Ruby saved the day by picking up her cake and managed to get through her birthday party. We kept it very low key and simple and she had a great time. My brother Josh stopped in with a friend and that was pretty special considering she wasn’t even 2 the last time she saw him.

That was on a Tuesday and at the end of that week, on Sunday, my other brother came to visit! Morgan was delighted to see both of them but she was especially excited play with “goofy” Uncle Dan. From the boys I learned that my sister, whom haven’t seen or talked to in 2 years, just moved to Scotland. Holy shit, really?! Apparently she’s going to be studying over there. That is so cool! Go Nina! Daniel stayed until Monday afternoon. It was wonderful to see my brothers; I do love them so.

I’ve learned, over the last two weeks, that you can’t get too comfortable thinking to yourself, “I’ve got this” because….you don’t. You don’t and as soon as you think you do, something is guaranteed to come out of the woodwork and knock you on your ass. I don’t even have the energy to go into detail about some of the FUBAR that has occurred to my home except to say that half a bottle of laundry detergent is much harder to clean off of hardwood floors than you’d think.

I’ve learned that the perspective I have of myself is nearly never anyone else’s. Sometimes, this is a good thing. Sometimes, the other persons perspective comes out of nowhere and slaps me upside my head so hard it leaves my ears ringing. I don’t particularly care for the experience.

I’ve learned never to say, “I never really get sick”. Apparently, saying this out loud is like inviting the denizens of the bacterial and viral world to prove their strength.

Most of all, I’ve learned that I have the best husband on planet earth. I know you think YOU do, but you’re wrong. I got him and he’s all mine. So neener.

Please excuse all typos, I’m still half asleep and my allergies are so bad I can barely see the screen right now. Love me anyway?

What is your favorite color?
“Um….pink or purple.”
What is your favorite food?
“I think Jerky aaaand Bacon!” <-- This greatly amuses me as she typically will refuse to eat anything else that has meat in it.
Favorite animal?
‘Horsey, horsey HORSEY!”
What is your favorite TV show?
“Um…the Might B”
What kind of music do you like?
“I like…Irish Jig”
What are you really good at?
“Dancing”
What are you not so good at?
“Uh…I don’t know. Nothing!”
Who are your best friends?
“Aniya, Jayden, Macanzie, Nick, Alison, Max, you (Yay, Momma made the list!) and my family.”
What is your favorite thing to do at school?
“Recess and fun activities”
What is the best thing about having a little sister and a little brotherr?
“They’re fun to play with”
How are you different from the two of them?
“I like Barbies but Abby’s not a big fan cuz she likes her baby dolls. Ethan seems to like screaming a lot and I don’t really like screaming.” <--She is referring to his new favorite game which seems to entail him out-screeching whoever he’s playing with. He thinks it’s great fun, claps his hands and laughs all the while the rest of us are plugging our ears and wiping tears from our eyes.
What does brother/sister do that makes you mad?
“When they hit me”
What do you want to do when you grow up?
“I want to be a Jockey”
If you had a lot of money, what do you think you would buy?
“I’d buy a hot tub- no a castle!” <--That's my girl!
What is the best thing about your mom?
“She’s nice!” <--I'm so reminding her of this when I tell her it's bed-time and she throws a fit!
What is the best thing about your dad?
“He’s nice!”
What do you like to do with dad?
“Play with him or just be with him”
What do you like to do with mom?
“Cuddle cuddle cuddle”
Tell me something that is really funny.
“Eve, sometimes she’ll climb a tree and hang from a bar by her feet. And then she licks the tree”
What is your favorite thing to wear?
“A fancy dress.”
What makes you cry?
“Someone being mean to me”
What does love mean?
“Love means that you really like someone”
What does it mean to be a good friend?
“It means you’re really nice to someone”

When we had to move in with my MIL, a friend fostered our dog for what turned out to be 18mo. That’s pretty freakin’ awesome, if you ask me. So when I heard that another friend was having similar trouble with her dog, I offered to foster him for her. Paying it forward kind of thing.

Well after careful consideration and some detail wrangling on both our parts, Mr. Jack came to stay with us yesterday. He’s a Jack Russel Terrier and he’s very, very sweet. He’s not quite 2yo and is only about half housebroken >_<. The kids adore him, Freyjah likes him and the cats are still not speaking to me. Dh is only speaking to me because we share a bed .

So now the head count reads: 1 husband, 2 girls, 1 boy, 2 cats, 2 dogs, a rabbit and a partridge in a pear tree.

I have to say that Jack is the first dog I’ve ever cared for that is constantly trying to drink my coffee. The boy has a death wish!

I read the entire post and the follow up and then I read the comments and then I read the post again and I’m still honestly, truly baffled at the hysterics this article has raised in the Mommyverse.

People, really? I mean, REALLY?! May I please have a ride on your High Horse? I wanna see what the world looks like from up there!

I mean, yes, there were a few brave souls who applauded her for being so frank and honest and an even rarer few who came right out and admitted they understood where she was coming from and that they sometimes felt the same way. But the overwhelming majority of the commentary I read there and in other places has been a vicious, mindless shredding of this mother’s character.

However, I’d be willing to bet that for every one of the 3-4hundred nasty-grams this woman has received there was at least one silent, tearful “thank you” whispered at someone’s monitor, never to be heard by the masses.

Reality check, ok? Motherhood is hard. It just is. I don’t care if you have the perfect baby, if you had the perfect birth and if everything in your life lines up like perfect little ducks in a row, motherhood is STILL effing hard. Parenting more than one child, even if your life is roses and cocktails is even harder. Trying to do it in the aftermath of a difficult, traumatic birth and a nasty case of PPD is even MORE difficult. There is not a single mother on this planet that doesn’t struggle, in her heart of hearts, with these issues at one time or another. There just don’t happen to be very many of us that are brave enough to share that reality with the rest of the world, looking for compassion and help.

Kate isn’t alone, she isn’t even unique! She may have expressed her feelings differently than I would have but it doesn’t change the fact that I completely understand what she’s saying, have been there and applaud her recognition of her problem and her resolve to FIX IT. That is what makes Kate an awesome mom, not a mother who’s children we should pity. Rarely have I come across such an honest dissection of one’s own psyche as I did when reading Kate’s post. She admits to feeling a certain way, discusses how it’s not something she’s proud of, talks about the fact she is afraid, worried and basically just lays it all out there. How is she responded to? Does she receive support, acknowledgement and validation? No! She’s ripped to shreds by a pack of blood-thirsty Holier-than-Thou’s!

No wonder more women didn’t respond to her with support and suggestions for help. Who wants to admit weakness in front of a pack like that?

Well, Kate, you don’t know me, I know you don’t read my blog, but maybe someday you’ll see this and so, I want you to know, you are not alone. I, too, have struggled with my own feelings and have had to come to terms with the whole “favorites” issue. I will tell you what helped me, but first, some backround:

When my 2nd daughter was born, my first wasn’t quite 3yo, yet. Still definitely a toddler. The birth experiences that I had with both of them were good, overall, but vastly, vastly different. The personalities of my daughters were different from the get and I admit, I was completely unprepared for how different I felt towards the two of them. With my first, it was this magical bond right from the moment I first laid eyes on her. With my second, I was totally preoccupied with the fact she was a preemie and I really didn’t start to feel like we’d “bonded” until much, much later. It didn’t help that my second baby was even more high needs than my first (a fact I really didn’t think was possible!) and that I was utterly exhausted and frustrated by what seemed like the grumpiest child on earth. She nursed constantly, needed to be held constantly and went from quiet to banshee screaming the second something wasn’t exactly the way she wanted it (and to this day her shriek grates on my nerves like nothing else on earth). In some ways, the first year of her life was hell.

I struggled so much. I knew in my heart I’d die for her in an instant but my feelings towards her were missing that “rose-colored glow” that I had with my first. I mentioned this struggle to a friend and that wise woman told me something I desperately needed to hear: Of course you feel differently towards her, she is a different person!

Kate and any other mother out there reading this, how you feel from one minute to the next is NOT “love”. It’s a feeling, nothing more. Yes, it’s important, yes, it deserves validation, recognition and careful thought. But if you’re examining it, you’re resolving to do something about it, THAT is where the love is. Love is something you do, something you choose, it’s not a warm-n-fuzzy in your gut. There are days when all three of my children make me want to run, screaming, as far away from home as I can get. That doesn’t change the fact that I’d willingly throw my life to the wind if it meant saving theirs. The “bond” is going to be different with each one of your kids. Your feelings WILL change, many times over, but that love is there to stay.

Right now, almost 4 yrs later, my youngest daughter is actually the child I feel the closest to. But I’ve come to understand that it doesn’t mean I don’t LOVE my other two just as much. It just means I relate the easiest to my 4yo right now. I’m sure that something will change and things will shift and that’s ok. My relationship and my bond with each of my three children is completely different from the one I share with their siblings.

Kate, you’ll come to that place, too. The fact that you’re aware that you have a difficulty, where it comes from and desire to break the cycle shows me and anyone who can actually read and think for themselves, that you DO love your daughter just as much as your son. I hope that you come to realize that, too. Just remember not to expect it to “feel” the same because it’s never going to.

Mom-lynchers, please, come off it. I’m sure that somewhere in there, you’ve got your own dirty little secret struggles. We all do. We’re ALL human. We are all doing our best. At the end of the day, all of us wish to be perfect, want to appear to have it all together but, in reality, none of us really do. We’re just doing the best we can with what we’ve got and seeking support from where we can. Let’s not kick each other in our moments of weakness, mkay? Let’s be grown-ups.

Ethan was a stocky, rosy-cheeked little guy, with gobs of curly brown hair, twinkling brown eyes and a great, big smile that almost never left his face.  He had chubby hands, fat little feet and eight perfect little teeth.  He was a Holy Terror.  He loved to climb on, well, anything.  As the youngest, and the only boy at that, his was the privileged position of “The Baby”.  The Baby was doted on by everyone, especially his sisters and it is very likely that his complete lack of fear came from his general sense of security in his surroundings.

Abigail was a tiny little whiplash of a girl.  She had straight blond hair, cut short on one side and left in a bob on the other (the result of Momma trying to fix her attempt at cutting her own hair).  The affect was pixie-like, in every way.  Not only was she a pretty little thing, but she was spunky and mischievous.  Truly, had the haircut been carefully thought out it couldn’t have suited her personality better.  She was very small for her age, but perfectly proportioned and, like her brother, never stopped moving.  Flamboyant and passionate, her pink smile easy to find and her brown eyes a total give-away to what she was thinking, Abigail was a force of nature compacted into a tiny, bird-like little package.   She could be counted upon to shout most of the the things she said and she was Exhausting.

Unbeknown to Momma, the two of these children had devised a plan to drive all semblance of sanity from her before her 31st birthday.  They were succeeding.

There came a day in February when it was unseasonably warm.  It seemed the first vestiges of spring were making themselves known and Momma decided to take full advantage of the lovely weather.  It had come at a perfect time as Momma was planning a dinner party the next evening and wanted to clean the house.  She opened every window in the house, including the great bay windows in the living room and in her bedroom, the former being on the first floor and the latter, on the second.  Having only purchased the house a little more than a month previously, she’d never had the opportunity to relish the free-flowing breezes afforded by the big windows.  Momma adored sunlight and a cross-breeze will find no comparison for freshening up a house.

The house wasn’t a big one but it was quite full as it housed five people, two cats, a dog and a rabbit.  One the first floor one would come in through the front door into the living room, adjacent to which was a half bath. Continuing towards the back of the house, one would find the kitchen which had a nice open floor-plan.  Off the kitchen was the addition.  Originally it had been the back porch but Momma was thoroughly grateful the previous owner had seen fit to have it made into a dining room.  At the back of the kitchen was the staircase that led up to the 2nd floor.  Momma was spending a great deal of time at the top of it on this day, as one of the big projects she was working on was the laundry and her washer/dryer combo was at the top of the stairs.  At the front of the house were the children’s rooms, across from the steps the full bath and at the back of the house, above the kitchen, was her bedroom which seconded as Daddy’s office.  The beloved bay windows in the room overlooked the roof of the dining room and the back-yard.

It was while Momma was folding what felt like the 10th load of laundry that day that Abigail asked, ever so sweetly, if she could please play games on Daddy’s computer.  Permission was granted, so long as Abigail kept the door closed as Ethan liked to pull things like the router and modem off of the desk and that wreaked havoc with the network which, in turn, drove Daddy bonkers.  Not only that the two of them together in that room would spell disaster for it’s relative neatness in a matter of minutes and Momma had enough to do without that added complication.

Shortly after granting permission for Abigail to use her room, Momma was distracted by Ethan, who had woken from his nap.  After changing him and turning him loose, she returned to folding the laundry while chatting with a friend on the phone.  As she was keeping an ear out for her son’s doings, she noticed when he found the cat-dish and could hear him busily spreading it’s contents across the table.  She chose this moment to use the bathroom as, while he was surely making a mess, she knew where he was and what he was doing and felt it was a safe time to do so.  The friend on the phone was an old friend and wouldn’t mind anyway.  Momma had lots of practice using the bathroom in under two minutes because really, toddlers can accomplish a lot when unsupervised, in that amount of time.

So it was with some annoyance that she answered the door to the shouting of Abigail, having scarcely concluded her business, maybe a minute and a half later.  As she was on the phone, it didn’t register immediately that Abby wasn’t just shouting as usual, but was actually near hysterics.  Momma ripped the door open and rather rudely demanded “Abigail, what on earth is your problem?” and glanced towards her open bedroom door, thinking to reprimand her for leaving it open- and for a split second, time stopped.

There, on the wrong side of the window stood her son, some 15ft off the ground, banging on the screen and, Momma thought, crying.  Abigail’s shrieks belatedly registered as panic and the only words Momma made out were “My baby brother fell out the window!”.

Allow us to pause and explain that Momma’s bed was located under the previously mentioned bay window.  The window’s panes slid open towards the center and the two outer panes had separate screens.  It appeared as though The Baby had pushed the screen out on one side, climbed out the window (or fell, according to Abby) and had simply walked across the roof to the other side.

In the moment, though, none of this really registered in Momma’s mind.  She shrieked “Oh My God!” and was out the window, across the roof and back in with her laughing son before she even had time to think about it.  In a daze, she set her son on the floor, turned, firmly shut and locked the window and weakly sat on the bed. Ethan pointed to the window and chattered away, laughing and squealing as he did so.  Abigail sobbed that she was sorry she left the door open (thought Momma could have sworn it was shut when she went into the bathroom).

Momma was horrified.  She had instructed that the door remained closed out of concern for the well being of her husband’s equipment.  The bay windows never even occurred to her as she’d never had cause to open them before.  She marveled a moment at how Mr. Stubby Legs had managed to get up the stairs, onto the bed and out the bloody window in the time it took her to pee before realizing that she’d thrown the phone across the room, shrieking like a banshee.

Hands shaking, she found it, unharmed and was surprised to find her friend still waiting on the other line.  Herding her son and her daughter out of the room (and locking the door behind her) she related her tale and told her friend, ”I need a drink”.

This is the story of how my weekend began.  This happened Thursday afternoon, before Abigail came down with a stomach bug that kept her up all night and was passed around my entire family, with my poor husband finally coming down with it today.  I actually started writing this yesterday!

How was YOUR weekend?