Short on Rope

As mom sometimes I think I forget about ourselves. Not the mom part - but the part of us everyone else tends to forget about as well. The woman in us. The person inside of us who needs love, kind words forgiveness, hugs...and God forbid...that woman who needs sexual attention. It's almost like once you are dubbed "mom", you're no longer allowed to talk about sex.

Suddenly it's not okay to have a sex toy who we have nicknamed "Spot" because...after children, it can still hit that spot that you can't anymore because...a bowling ball has reorganized your vagina and Decided it was an ugly lamp that needed to go deeper into that corner over there.

Suddenly masturbating is thrown into the same pile of words as "getting high", "getting wasted"..."getting off by yourself the way nature intended" .

Society sees us in baggy tshirts and unflattering jeans that make us look 4 months pregnant...10 years post partum. In huge white bras and granny panties. Unshaved legs. Unwaxed bikini lines.

Well society...im sorry but I hav more sex now than I did before children.

I have found my body to be a pretty fun place recently and I want to take it out...in my own room...and see what I can do...with my little toy...who I call Spot. 

Sniffle Sniffle

It's that time of year...you know...that time of year that all humans wish they could avoid.

No - not Christmas. I have no beef with Christmas.

Yeeessss, now you're catching on. COLD SEASON!

It's that time of year when I wonder what people without children are doing. Are they snuggled up in front of their laptop netflix'ing with popcorn, all warm in a nice throw, sipping some kind of lemon tea? 

This is what I am doing to get through the season. I am getting up 8x per night between the three older kids, every twenty minutes with my seven month old, counting down each and every minute until help gets home from work to pull the short shift and not caring that I can't find a bra...who the heck cares...LET 'EM HANG! 

I'm also freezing a bit at night while my infant enjoys a nice snuggle-bug thingy that keeps her warm while exposing her face to cool air at night to limit her coughing. I'm in bed trying to snuggle up to my other half, while he is pushing me away because I am too warm. At least in an hour, a child will be up screaming at me that they want water, and then that they have to pee, so I'll just give up and camp out in bed with them for the half hour in between the water and pee breaks. 

I'm pretty lucky though, it is the time of giving...

Every single night, my children all give me gifts of buggers, snot (yes there is a difference), drool, germs...but most importantly, they give me the satisfaction of knowing even though we are all pretty miserable...I'm the only one who can make them feel better. 

The feeling when they wrap themselves around me, and instantly hit a light sleep again before mumbling a request...that moment...that moment makes me realize that every sniffle is totally amazing. Every cough, sore throat, every time I reposition the thermometer in their mouths (ya know...because keeping it under the tongue, keeping their mouth closed, and NOT talking is VERY difficult)...it's everything I signed up for and my payment are the precious moments when they are in my arms...the moments that they won't even remember in the morning. 

So...cold season...you may think you have the upper hand...and what I'll keep to myself is, YOU are what makes me feel like super woman every single night.

I'll let you think you're winning though....

Important Topics

I read an article today, and it really hit home, because when I was a child, articles like this were not in circulation. Here is the link to the article :

http://www.babble.com/parenting/never-tell-our-daughters-hes-only-mean-because-he-likes-you/

Now, the overall thought to this article is that we need to STOP telling our children that someone is picking on them, or hurting them because they must "like" them. Since when would we tell of our fellow mom friends that her husband punching her in the face means he loves her EXTRA special?! We wouldn't!! So why is it okay for us to tell our innocent children that it is okay to express "love" through physical abuse?

When I was a kid, there was this one little boy who picked on me. He pulled my hair. It actually did hurt. I was told that maybe he had a crush on  me. This made ZERO sense to me, if he liked me, why was he hurting me?!

That little girl...the one I used to be...had it all right.

That 8 year old girl had more common sense than my thirty-something year old teacher did.

Violence, pain, hurt, humiliation...is NOT love.

But...it is a wonder why domestic violence is such a battle we face today...since we are told from a young age that it is how we are supposed to express love.

Mommy-ing at a tumblr speed

I'm 24 year old...and today I created my first ever Tumblr account.

Also, over the weekend, my infant popped TWO teeth.

And we've been battling flu season. Not well, but we're fighting it.

This is all part of why I haven't been writing very often lately.


On a side note, as a mom, we end up only really having mom friends it seems. Why? Because no one really understands us like another mom. A non-mom friend doesn't really get why you're wearing a shirt over your bikini. They don't understand how proud of your vagina is after pushing babies out of it. They may still think that talking about your very sad sexlife...is still taboo.
Other moms GET YOU.
Nothing grosses them out *for the most part*. They've seen it or been through it before, or, are going through it now.
We can talk about poop, lunch, poop again, our poop, sex, leaky boobs, non-leaky boobs, coffee, laundry, laundry soap, cats, how cats make more laundry for you, how you forgot to bring the garbage out...all in a five minute span.....and it's not considered ADD...it's just that we have so much going on at one time that category jumping is more or less us remembering everything that we have to do.
That being said...I have no idea how Tumblr works, or why one would have a Tumblr account. So I decided to investigate...go undercover if you will. Possibly, a part of me is still that woman I used to be before having children...and I just want to fit in.

Cuddles

As the title suggests...this is about cuddling. That is...how amazing it is.

I've found that absolutely nothing has bee helping my mood in general than cuddling, not the typical cuddling you get from a child, but the adult kind. Let me clarify before anyone gets excited. I'm not talking about erotica. I'm talking about adult skin to skin contact through simple, innocent cuddling.

When we go to bed at night, we will often wait up for the other so that we can go to bed together and have some cuddling time before we fall asleep. There is tons of science that proves that we all need skin to skin contact. When a baby is first born, that is the first contact they crave, skin to skin.

I remember in the delivery room when our baby girl was born, hubby was told to take his shirt off just as I had delivered our daughter so that he could hold her skin to skin to help her regulate her temperature. It was also supposed to calm her. Reassure her. Our voices were supposed to help her realize that she was in a safe place, as she would know our voices from her time in my womb.

The same must be true for adults.

When we grieve, a simple embrace helps us through.

When our children are upset, the fastest way to make them feel better is a hug.

The hugs I've been getting from my children and boyfriend have helped so much lately.

Everyone get a cuddle in. 

Why?!

Yesterday (Wednesday), hubby told me that they were in fact coming home that night and not staying the rest of the week out of town. Most women, with four children at home, who have been on their own since  Monday morning at 5am, would rejoice. Jump for joy. Shout from the mountain tops that their hubby would be home...aka...someone to help them get to bed tonight...the battle will not be four against one, but four against TWO and nearly an equal and fair fight!!

Not this mom. This mom seen that I hadn't had time to vacuum the whole house yet, the floors weren't swept, both bathrooms needed to be deep cleaned, I was a MESS. It was nearly 1pm and there was so much do to still. I broke down, got the 40$ I had made selling my baby's newborn and 0-3M clothing (which killed me to do by the way) and started a search for someone to come help me clean the house.

I found someone, lovely lady. Her first name is Melissa, I won't give her last name away. Kind eyes. Soft voice. The kind of lady who you know cherishes her loved ones, just by saying "hello". That woman CLEANED. She even reorganized. She made my dining room more functionable. She was well worth every cent for her services.

Hubby got home finally, just as I was finishing up supper for him (brown rice, corn and steak). He walked in but didn't really comment on how clean the house was. He asked me how much I spent. Who the hell cares? It was money we won't miss because we wouldn't have normally had it. I needed it...I needed help. I was honestly hoping he would come home and be happy...instead he was indifferent. It figures though, men don't get it. It took so much for me to seek help...the house wasn't even bad...it just needed some deep cleaning. My house is always tidy.

Although I am still a bit upset at hubby's reaction (I wasn't hoping for him to come home and be all smiles and "wow"ed...but...come on), I realize something.

Who cares how messy the house was when he got home? If he thought it was a mess, he could easily help clean it up. It wasn't late when he got in (615pm).

Then I get it...I was seeking approval and compliments on a good job...because of my stupid post partum depression. I was seeking attention when I felt I desperately needed it from being drained over the course of three days as a mom on her own with her four children.

The satisfaction of a clean house was no longer enough for me, as it used to be. I used to marvel in a clean house, freshly washed floors with the calming scent of an all purpose cleaner that I knew I spent too much money on (That Mr Clean stuff...the lavender one...sometimes I feel like that bottle is my mistress...).

After all of this...I've decided that once a month, I will do this again. Next time I will bring the kids to the park, leave her here to do her thing, and come home to a clean house. No one ever tells you how precious a very clean house is after you have children...a clean house isn't for when people come over, to impress someone else, it is for your own mental health when you have children.

This is what I will remember the next time I feel like I just need the help. That is isn't for anyone else, it is for me and if I don't get the "atta boy" it's okay. It's for me. And that's okay!!

Pilot

As part of my post partum journey, I was diagnosed with PPD, or, post partum depression. Along with any form of depression or other temporary brain disorder, I was told that I should keep a journal. Follow my own progress. Not be afraid to show others that I am struggling, so that they know that I am not myself, that I may need help...and that I am not invincible.

To my children, I AM invincible, and having post partum depression has taken so many tolls to me, both physically and emotionally, but I think for ME the worst part is feeling like less of a MOTHER. If I were not a mother, I would not know who I am. I could stop working, I could move to another country, but the one thing that will always remain the SAME...is that I am a MOTHER.

As my blog name states, I have four children, Alexandra (Lexi), Gabriel (Gabey), Evan and Willow. This is considered a big family these days, especially since where we live, jobs are scarce and difficult to obtain, and home simply are not made to hold that many children any more.

I was married once, and am now in a long term relationship with the only other man I have been with was an adult. My first marriage lasted over 7 years, and my first three children are a result of my first marriage. I left him because I couldn't handle his affairs, and looking at him was the exact same thing as watching him and them together. Over time, one would assume you would feel the scars fade from such a betrayal. Instead, they became infected, and I became resentful and angry, even if it wasn't outwardly projected. I eventually found myself hoping he would just lie to me, and go out and leave me alone...hoping that he would have to "work late" more often so that I wouldn't have to face our marriage. After a few months of going back and forth about it, I decided I was too young to be so incredibly miserable, especially for a man who had multiple affairs knowing full well that I was more loyal than any dog you could ever own.

I have been in my second marriage (although, not married) for two and a half years. We have our bumps, but I can honestly say even when times were very tough...my love, devotion and overall gratitude for this man being in my life has never once faltered. Knowing, without a doubt, that he has felt the same way, makes every day amazing. Although he isn't good with words, or really, emotions in general, he has been trying to help me fight my post partum depression ever since we found out about 6wks ago.

Helping yourself when you are depressed is not an easy task and it brings you down to where you truly do feel like you're doing EVERYTHING wrong. No matter how happy your children are, no matter how many times your partner reassures you that you are AMAZING in every way...the mind plays tricks. You have no control over your own emotions whatsoever. You find yourself doubting yourself with every decision. Your baby looks at your with love in her eyes, and you feel like for some reason, you are failing her for not being able to be happy. I'm not saying that I don't WANT to be happy...I have the INABILITY to be happy.

So this is me helping me, to help my children, get their mom back.