Confession of a bad mom:

Fighting the fear…

When I became a mother sixteen years ago and held my son for the first time, I was filled with a love and happiness I cannot put into words.  Never in my life did I know I could love someone so very much.  However, along with that love and happiness came a fear unlike any I’ve ever known. It overwhelmed me.  I remember being terrified, and for no real reason, as irrational thoughts of “what if something happened to him” filled my head.  Overtime, with more children and more experience, those fears seemed to subside and were replaced with normal worries about their health, safety and well-being.

Nevertheless, every once in a while, a little irrational thought pops into my head and keeps me awake at night.  I find consolation in my worries by telling myself that any parent would tell you their greatest fear is something terrible happening to their child- “terrible” being any range of emotional upset, to actual physical harm. And even though some would say I’m prone to a more dramatic or imaginative mindset, it seems this week- at least- my fears have been a little extra overwhelming.

I’m blaming the weather for the odd mood that has settled around my small community.  March has given in to a rather lugubrious start to spring, and people seem to have had enough. This week has been a reminder to me that the world in which I am raising my children, is not exclusive to the outside of my small-town front door.  I tried to remain calm this morning when I dropped my children off at school and left them in the hands of others to protect, trying desperately to quell those irrational thoughts popping up. “What if” and “What happens when…”

I drove away thinking about how we start out holding these beautiful little humans in our arms, thinking about all the wonderful things we want for them in this world, determined to protect them from as much as we possibly can… and all the things we can’t. Throughout the bumps and bruises of their childhood, we kiss scrapes, teach them to wear helmets, play nicely with others, be respectful, look both ways before crossing the road, don’t talk to strangers, don’t take big bites and chew, chew, chew.  Don’t run with sticks, don’t play with fire, be aware of your surroundings.  I mean, let’s face it, in the beginning we’re just trying to keep them fed and in a clean diaper.

Then at some point, the worries and fears get worse.  I’m not really sure when it all changes, but it does.  All of a sudden, things get really serious and you’re talking about driving, sex, drugs and drinking. Talks about keeping yourself safe against a school shooter, social media and how pictures and words sent out to the world never truly go away, how lives can be ruined with a simple click. You talk about making good choices and thinking about their future- hoping they understand how stupid decisions can affect their entire life.

You talk and lecture and preach and holler, because you’re terrified of what could happen to them when they walk away from you.  Their safety and well-being, regardless of whether they’re innocently sitting in school or walking out the door with their friends, is always in the back of your mind.    None of us set out to be the parent of the child whose life lessons are learned the hard way- it is everything we’ve tried to prevent from the moment our children are born.

We fight the fear of “what if” and “what happens when” every day as a parent. Because as much as we try to keep them from making mistakes, we can’t keep them from life- and sometimes, for me, that’s terrifying.

This morning, all those fears sort of clogged in my throat as I drove to work.  I can’t be with my children every second and I know my sixteen-year-old doesn’t ever want me around. This realization had tears streaming down my cheeks- now maybe I’m tired, not feeling well… who knows.  Maybe it’s just because I’m a mom.  One thing I do know is, there are points in raising children where there is nothing more you can do, but hope all you’ve done, has been enough.

I wanted to share this with all my parents and send you a hug, because I feel like it’s been a really long week and you might just need it.  Know that you aren’t alone and you’re doing a great job.  Keep loving them, keep lecturing them, keep praying and hoping.  Keep fighting the fear.

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Confessions of a bad mom… the lice scare

liceConfession of a bad mom:  There is one word that puts true fear and anxiety into the hearts of parents (mothers) everywhere. That word is LICE.  The noun immediately makes one itch their head and contemplate burning down their house- just in case. The very thought of bugs crawling on my scalp and laying eggs is enough to make me want to shave myself bald and treat my scalp with something flammable- like kerosene (which was actually used years ago to treat head lice).  I never worried too much about it with the boys, but now that I have a little girl with glorious locks, I’m freaked out all the time… because it’s inevitable!  At the mere mention of an itchy head, I’m all like, “What?????  Let me see your head!!! Does anyone else have an itchy head in school?” And not just because it’s gross, but also because treating lice not only involves washing your child’s head 15 million times and combing and combing and combing nits out, but also treating your ENTIRE house! ENTIRE house!!!!!! EVERYTHING has to be washed, stuffed animals and toys have to be bagged, carpets have to be cleaned! And as a mother of four children who works full-time with a husband who works a crazy schedule and mountains of laundry already- that is more than enough to send one into full freak-out mode.

So I’m sure you’ll empathize with me as I share what went down this morning.  While heading out the door to school, I paused to fix Ailey’s bow in her clean (washed the night before) hair and notice little white flecks everywhere.  I immediately began an inspection- right there on the sidewalk. “Does your head itch????!!!!”

“No, why?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.  Why?”

After combing through her hair, my heart hammering in my chest, I deduced that it was not lice, but the hair detangler spray she used to prevent her “staticky” hair from “looking like chicken head.”  But just to be on the safe side (and because I was mildly freaked out), I swung by my best friends house for further confirmation- as the mother of two little girls, she’s become quite experienced with such matters… unfortunately.  After a great deal of inspection (and mumbled expletives from me) we were confident that it was just the spray that had dried. As I rounded the corner to drop her at school, I placed a call to her teacher explaining the situation, who also performed an inspection upon her arrival to class and confirmed all was well. In the spirit of the Thanksgiving season, I took some calming deep breaths, offered up prayers to sweet baby Jesus and I tired to ignore my own itchy head.

I’m thinking about getting some lice medication to have on hand- just in case… and maybe a prescription for some Quaaludes.

#itsalwaysgoodtobeprepared #wineaintgonnacutit

#licelikecleanhair #itcanhappentoanyone #myheadisstillitching

Confession of a bad mom…

Confession of a bad mom: Ailey’s drama was at defcon 1 tonight. After NUMEROUS meltdowns, I’d had enough and it escalated to Defcon -10, a.k.a ass-cracking, lock it down time… causing my boys to pucker every orifice and scatter. After I was done restoring the peace, I realized that Kian was playing Xbox online with a friend and Braeden was face-timing  a friend doing homework. I walked in and asked Braeden, “Were you live when all that drama just went down?” He said, “Yep. Pretty sure you’re gonna end up on the front page of the paper.” #great #itsallfunandgamesuntilsomeonegetstheirasscracked #eveningtribhereIcome 

Confession of a bad mom…

Mom will you get me

Confession of a bad mom: My children do this ALL the time. They’ll be in the same room as my husband, completely disregard him and will search me out for whatever they need.

“Can I have something to drink?” “Will you tie my shoe?” “Will you fix me something to eat?” “Will you open my go-gurt?”

#heyhaveyoumetthisguyhesyourfather  #dadscandothingstoo #theyvedonetheshowerthingtoo

Confession of a bad mom…

Confession of a bad mom:  I received the following message today from my little Ailey’s teacher, “So your doll had a meltdown today at the end of gym.  Came out sobbing.  Someone had told her she was bossy. We get back to the room and she’s still teary. I told her, ‘You know what, Punk? You are bossy, but guess what? So am I, and so is your mom… so own it! It’s okay to be bossy. It’ll take you 25 years or so to learn when you need to dial it down a bit and when you can let it rip.  I picked her up and she laid her head on my shoulder and was just about asleep in less then 2 minutes.  She was fine the rest of the afternoon.”

I was a little teary-eyed reading this, thinking of my little miss being so upset.  But I was so happy that she had a wonderful, strong woman to comfort and encourage her. Ailey doesn’t come by being bossy all on her own- in the event that you don’t know me. 😉  It’s been both inherited and learned.  She has grown up surrounded by fearless, strong, independent women who take absolutely no crap, from anyone.  From her mother and  grandmothers, to her aunts, cousins, teachers and family friends, she’s been surrounded since birth by some of the most amazing women I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. I will never squelch this feistiness inside of her.  I will teach her how to harness it, to always be polite and kind, but to kick ass when she needs to!  I’ll use today as a learning opportunity for my little girl and I will be grateful for amazing women and amazing teachers!

#theworldneedsmorebossywomen #bitchesgetitdone

#thankgodforgreatteachers #ImnotbossyImaleader

I'm not bossy

Confession of a bad mom…

Confession of a bad mom:  I think I’m a cool mom, but I’m pretty sure my teenager doesn’t think so.  He referred to cupcakes I’d made as “dank” last night. I looked at him confused, thinking he was insulting my baking skills. He said, “Don’t you know what ‘dank’ means?” I replied, “Yeh… dark, dreary, musty… the dank basement.” But it turns out (thanks to my husband’s investigation), “dank” in today’s teenage language means, excellent; high quality- often used by heavy pot smokers to describe good weed… which made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside as a parent.

#coolmomsknowwhatdankmeans #maybeIshouldbeworriedwiththecupcakesandpotslang
Are you a cool mom? Click here and take this test to find out…

the cool mom

 

Confession of a bad mom…

Confession of a bad mom:  I’ve spent the past few days trying to come up with a good excuse as to why our Elf on the Shelf won’t be making his return from the North Pole this year. Unfortunately, I’ve concluded that I’m stuck with the little creep for at least two more years before a viable excuse won’t devastate my little ones. In the meantime, I’m thinking of starting a support group- MWHEOTS (Mothers Who Hate Elf On The Shelf)- to get us through the season.

#Peopleforpeopleagainstelfontheshelf   #hescreepy   #MWHEOTS  #DearSanta

Santa and Elf on the shelf