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Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Not For the Faint of Heart

Warning! Tonight's blog is not for the faint of heart. It's not for anyone who reads my posts and thinks that I have it all together. Because tonight the truth comes out: I don't have it all together. In fact, I'm not even sure I have "it" all in the same zip code.

The last little bit has been pretty rough for me. I love my kids. I love Jackson and Parker more than anything in the world. However, there are times when I really question whether I'm cut out for being a mom. If the me from five years ago saw me now, I'm pretty sure she'd be disappointed.

I always thought I'd be the cool mom. I always thought I'd be the one having play dates at the park, sipping a Starbucks at the library story time (away from the books, I swear), and dressing my kids in super cute, eclectic outfits just like mine.

The truth is: I'm lucky to get myself and the boys out the door before 10am with clothes on. Most of the time, I'm not quite sure the clothes match and at least one of my kids (or me) has Pop Tart, milk, or spit up on our clothes. Usually, I just wipe it off, run out the door, and hope for the best.

Really? This is what life is like?

I never thought I'd be up until 11:30 at night scrubbing fish juice off my stove, picking up toys before I trip on them, or worst yet, crying as I get rid of Jackson's first high chair. (He is graduating to a booster seat at the table).

Why am I crying? Because I see my kids childhood flying by and I am not the mother I want to be. Instead of being the cool one, the eclectic one, the one that best fits my personality, I'm the mom who secretly spends every moment out in public praying my kids don't make any noise and looking at my watch counting the hours until bedtime so I can (hopefully!) finish my grad school work due at midnight.

What is my life like right now? A blur.

For heaven's sake, I just want to be able to stop and smell the roses. If I can't have roses, I'd at least like to appreciate the smell of spit up before it's gone.

With love (and a heavy heart),
Anna

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