What do you do when the devil attacks? Today, I feel like the devil attacked us… again… We could have crawled into bed and cried all night but we went swimming instead.
After my “probably cancer” diagnosis
I had this brief feeling of mourning. You know that deep sadness you get when you hear that someone died? I felt like that. It was like I was mourning my own inevitable death, but then that feeling just pissed me off. I wasn’t dead yet and I wasn’t going to go without a fight. I was preparing for this battle that was happening between my mind and my body. It’s like mentally preparing for war. I knew the odds were against me but I couldn’t just lay down and die. It would be painful and it would be ugly but I had no choice. This is the Truth About Cancer: Part 3.
My dad was standing in the driveway as we pulled up. I couldn’t look him in the eye. I couldn’t look anyone in the eye. We sat everyone down and I opened my mouth to deliver the news but nothing came out. I physically could not say the word “cancer”. I didn’t want my kids to think their mommy was dying so I tried my best to protect them from that thought. In fact, they never really knew the seriousness of the situation. I didn’t know the right way to tell them. There is no manual on how to tell your children you have cancer and I didn’t have time to Google it! Maybe I should have prepared them for the worst and hoped for the best. Who knows what strategy would have been best but I didn’t have the heart to even mention the “C” word. I just held them and cried as these words kept playing in my mind:
“My babies need a mom. Why is this happening to them? God, please save their mother.”
Two days later, I went into the hospital for a biopsy.
I’ve never had a biopsy and I didn’t know what to expect. I assumed that I would go into surgery under General Anesthesia and wake up after it was all over. Instead, I was taken into an imaging room where more images of the mass were taken and markings were being strategically placed on my back. I was completely unaware of what was to happen next. They gave me IV medications that were (according to them) supposed to sedate me. One nurse held my hand as they took these long needles and started to jab them through my back and into the tumor. It felt like they were hammering a knife into my body. One apparatus wasn’t working sufficiently so they repeated the procedure again. It was so incredibly painful as I felt every single hammering stab. I wanted to kick and scream but I couldn’t move or they would have stabbed my liver or lung or whatever organs were nearby. So, I held my breath, I moaned and I squeezed that nurses hand as hard as I could until the brief torture was over.
I was quickly referred to the Mayo Clinic in Arizona where the real work began. There was a lot of blood work and then there was more blood work. Imaging was done from my head to my feet and everything in between. I felt like I was literally a lab rat. By the end of all these tests we discovered that I not only had the one giant tumor in my pancreas but I had one small tumor in my brain above my eyebrow, one in my neck inside the spinal cord and several smaller tumors further down my spinal cord. These are tumors that are different from the Neuroendocrine tumor in my pancreas.
So basically, I have two different types of cancer. Awesome…
as if having one type of cancer isn’t enough. Our obvious decision was to deal with one thing at a time. My abdominal surgery would be primary concern as the tumor was taking over my entire body, restricting and distorting all of my organs. The plan was to perform a Whipple Procedure to remove the tumor. This procedure would remove the tumor and the part of my pancreas that it was attached to along with removing my spleen and gallbladder. They would also remove part of my stomach and intestines, reconstruct the bile duct and portal vein which is the main vein that feeds blood to the liver. Our main goal was to leave part of my pancreas intact so I wouldn’t become an insulin-dependent diabetic from one day to the next. The surgery was was planned to take around 8 to 10 hours.
At 5 AM on October 20, 2015
I kissed my babies and their chubby cheeks as they slept so cozy in their bed. I had no idea what life had in store for me or if I would even survive the surgery so I softly touched their sweet faces and whispered into each of their ears, “Mommy loves you so much. I’m so proud of you and I will always be with you.”
I didn’t want to leave them. They were so peaceful. I wished time could have stood still forever but I wiped the tears off my face and I walked away not knowing if they would ever see me again.
Thank you for reading The Truth About Cancer: Part 3
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I was reading through some old journal posts that I had and this made me laugh out loud (literally)
This is about the time I ate all of my daughter’s candy.
We took a little “end of summer road trip” before the kids had to go back to school. The trip was only a 3 hour drive but factoring in all the elements of 2 kids, 2 toddlers and 3 adults in 1 vehicle makes for a long day.
To start off, it wasn’t even an hour into the trip and I’ve already spilled someone’s pee all over me! I forgot there was pee in the car-potty (yes, we have a car-potty. Lol) Basically, I forgot there was pee in it and picked it up over my head to move it to the other side of the car. Not like a little splash of pee; all the pee. All. Over. Me. It’s also quite possible that some of the pee may have spilled (just a tiny bit) into the hubby’s water cup. However, I didn’t say anything because he was laughing so hard and making fun of me pretty badly. So basically, jokes on him…
As if smelling like a porta-potty wasn’t bad enough; we’ve heard kids crying and complaining, I’ve endured the hubby’s sarcastic comments and I’ve dealt with the attitude of a three year old asshole all-flipping-day. Yes I said it, she’s an asshole. She’s damn cute, absolutely no doubt about it but for goodness sake; she’s sarcastic and she never stops talking. I know we created that little monster and I wouldn’t want her any other way. She’s strong willed and I’m so thankful that we’ll never have to worry about her when she’s older but damn… she’s an asshole.
Once we arrived at the hotel
I bought some candy for all the kids to share. Right away, the 3 year old little girl decides to try and manipulate her way into keeping more candy for herself by telling me that her 2 year old cousin would choke on the candy and that she’d better not give him any. Then she eats her candy and proceeds to throw a temper tantrum for unrelated reasons. In turn, she chokes on her candy nearly scaring me half to death!
Once she gagged up her candy onto the floor and I was certain she was out of any danger; all I wanted to do was strangle that little girl by her neck! I was so upset! I had already dealt with her shit all day and now she’s having a temper tantrum for absolutely no reason and almost killed herself in the process; ironically after she suggested the 2 year old would choke on the exact candy she was choking on. Not only did I sit her little ass in time out but I took the rest of her candy that she was no longer allowed to enjoy and I ate it in front of her. I’m pretty sure that’s not the best solution to our problems and I’m in no way suggesting that I’m mother-of-the-year but I will take a small victory where I can get one.
By the way, it felt so damn good!
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The Time I Ate All of My Daughter’s Candy
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The Mom Saga: a long and complicated series of events.
Do you ever feel like you rock the shit out of being a mom?
I NEVER do but I damn well try! I’m a damn good mom but I never rock the shit out of any of it. My life is mostly a story of same shit, different day. This is The Mom Saga.
Here’s a week worth of sarcastic chaos in my shoes…
Between finding matching socks, clean underwear, getting the kids dressed, lunches and backpacks packed, everyone’s teeth brushed and off to school on time (or at least before the second bell rings which is still considered on time), I finally made it to my dentist appointment only 5 minutes late with mascara on only my right eye lashes. The 3 year old is watching Kids Netflix and eating fish crackers in the corner. I remembered to put it on the “Kids” channel this time so at least she won’t be watching The Wolf of Wall Street again. (Mother of the year, right here)
Then we’re off to feed the princess before she becomes the hangry beast. Yes, hangry is a word. Look it up.
We pick up the boy early from school so I can get to an MRI appointment before we head out to his baseball game and reluctantly miss volleyball practice for only the first time this week. At this point I feel like I really need to get my shit together but there’s no time to dwell on it because I need to find a sports cup and a jock strap before we are late for the 3rd time today. Did I even feed the boy? Who knows, I’m sure we can find some leftover fish crackers in the car somewhere.
The game ends and it’s now 8:00 pm. Kids are starving and I’m not even about to start the “cooking dinner for picky eaters” process right now. They’re ecstatic to be getting fast food but I’m feeling like a failure.
7:10am… Holy shit, car pool is coming in 20 minutes and I still need to get the boy up and functioning enough to brush his teeth, find his clean underwear, matching socks and make his lunch. Hopefully the girl will sleep long enough for me to get through the morning rush… Nope not today. Now we have to hear her complain about how sleepy she is (but no one made her wake up) and someone needs to hold her, someone needs to turn on the TV for her, change the channel and then change it back. Then she has to pee but too tired to walk to the toilet so someone needs to carry her.
7:27am… Car pool is early!
Throw together a pb&j sandwich, toss it in a lunchbox and send the boy out the door. I’m pretty sure he brushed his teeth but that’s not even on my list of things to stress about anymore.
The rest of the morning is trying to get the girl to cooperate
We need to get out of the house to run errands and do a little work before we have to pick up brother from school. I’m personally feeling like shit today but that’s neither here nor there. We finally get out of the house and she falls asleep in the car. So much for running errands. The little girl slept in what looked like a very uncomfortable position but I wasn’t about move her. You wouldn’t poke a sleeping bear and you never poke a sleeping toddler!
Then it’s time to drive to the school to find a parking because if you’re not there 45 minutes early you will NEVER find a parking! Of course the hibernating bear wakes up hungry! I promised I’d feed them both after school pick up but son of a bitch, I forgot we have a parent teacher conference today! It’s fast food time again or else they’ll never eat before soccer practice! Quick stop for a bean burrito! Beans are a vegetable, right? Whatever.
Parent teacher conference yada yada yada… (I only cried once. 3rd grade is hard! Lol)
Stop at home to change for soccer. The little girl had one pink sock and one black sock. (Mom didn’t even try) Water bottles, soccer equipment, kids buckled up and… go!
Dealt with parents bitching and complaining about soccer time and how hard it is to get there on time. Seriously, don’t f**king go there…
Same shit, different day…pb&j.
Early pick up from school again so I could make it to my Oncologist appointment.
Quick stop for dinner before we attempted to make it to volleyball practice on time but failed miserably. The boy excitedly reminds me that he doesn’t have school Thursday or Friday. Great, what the heck am I suppose to do with them for 4 consecutive days!? I’m running on empty!
7:05am… Holy shit, not again! Oh, wait there’s no school today!
7:08am… “Mommy, can I watch TV in your bed? I need to pee. Hold me, I’m sleepy. Can I have cereal?”… Seriously?
Worked on the computer as much as I could while the kids ate junk food and watched scary movies all afternoon (which I knew would bite me in the ass at bed time) but it’s the only way I could have a few hours of peace. Of course time finds a way of sneaking off, so now I’m scrambling to find a “clean enough” baseball uniform in the laundry basket. The little girl had matching soccer socks this time but one of them was dirty. Water bottles, soccer equipment, baseball equipment, kids buckled up and… go!
Shit, I’m the snack mom today!
Holy mother f**ker!! Quick stop for snacks then drop off the boy at baseball. Drove across town to soccer practice. The girl falls asleep in that “I’m pretty sure her neck will snap off if I slam on the breaks,” position again but you never poke the bear! She slept for the duration of her practice then we ran back across town to see the rest of the boy’s baseball game. Of course the kids are starving afterwards and it’s fast food again.
I can never seem to “get my shit together”
I’m sure tomorrow will bring another story of the mom saga but in the midst of all this chaos and feelings of half-assing life, I’ve realized that this is what it’s all about. I may fail everyday at one thing or another but I’m here and I’m trying and that’s all my kids will ever remember. I will always TRY my very best to be the mom I want them to remember. They won’t remember all the chaos. They won’t remember my stress or anxiety but they will remember that I was there.
This is the story of all moms. The details may change but every mom has their own version of same shit, different day. There is one thing I know for sure. We need to remember to enjoy every minute of this mess we call “life” because in the center of it all are these tiny humans that only want to experience EVERYTHING that life has to offer and is that too much to ask? Absolutely not. You’re probably exhausted and delusional but at the end of it all, they will remember these experiences. Most importantly, they will simply remember that you were there.
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The Saga Continues…
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I’m going to backtrack a little bit here
I hadn’t been feeling myself for a very long time. In fact, I had been suffering from migraine headaches almost every single day for over a year. I had avoided doctors for as long as I possibly could. Of course, moms are always too busy to take care of themselves and I always seemed to have an excuse. Truthfully, I was afraid to know. Of course, it was always in the back of my mind but I didn’t want to know the truth about cancer.
Feeling tired and fatigued more than usual, I would see all my friends posting on social media accounts about working out, running, healthy living and having so much energy while I’m over here struggling to get out of my pajamas and feed the kids. I remember thinking “is this what thirty-something feels like? This can’t be right.”
At this point, I even sarcastically told a friend, “I feel like I’m dying”
It’s not so funny now, but at the time I looked completely healthy on the outside and even the doctor mentioned that I was probably just feeling “motherhood stress.” It was hard for me to explain my symptoms but I knew I just didn’t feel right. He suggested that I start with routine blood work and go from there.
Dr. F is quite a different character
You know, the type of doctor that is always in a rush and starts talking to you before he even walks through the door. He’s quite the “textbook” doctor who tells it like it is and walks out of the room. Dr. F always left me wondering if he actually answered my questions or if I forgot to even ask. I didn’t care for him much, but he was available and I needed a Doctor so I made that shoe fit. He said my liver levels were ridiculously high and that I needed further testing to rule out Liver Disease and walked out of the room. (Insert WTF moment here!) Naturally, I Googled…What is Liver Disease? Then I freaked out and thought I was dying of Liver Disease.
An ultrasound of my liver was ordered STAT
As I was laying on the bed, the tech turned her computer screen away from me and seemed to be attending to a certain area of my abdomen. She then started taking a lot of pictures and measurements. I curiously asked if she saw anything. She hesitated and stuttered, “your doctor will have to give you the results.” After the ultrasound was complete, I received a phone call from the clinic while I was leaving the parking lot. They said that Dr. F wanted me to go straight to the imaging center for a CT Scan of my abdomen. I went back inside for the orders. The orders read, CT Scan on abdominal mass. So much for, “your doctor will have to give you the results.”
After the CT Scan, the tech came out of the computer room with her eyes fixated on my abdomen. Her eyebrows were squinted with concern and her face looked like she was in utter disgust or in disbelief of whatever she was seeing on her computer screen. She asked, “does it hurt?” At that point, her eyes were even more fixated as she was trying to figure out how it was even possible to have such a huge mass inside my body. (Remember, I still haven’t been given any “results” yet from Dr. F.) Obviously, at that moment I knew… The Truth About Cancer.
Wait! Let’s back up, again…
I went in with symptoms of headaches and fatigue. What does this have to do with headaches?
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Okay, so here’s the Truth About Cancer blog
I wasn’t going to do it, but I realize this blog is sarcastically named after my “amazing life” and this is definitely a part of my life. Lately, I’ve had many friends tell me that I should blog about my journey through Cancer. I always smile in agreement that maybe one day I would but it’s taken me a long time to talk about what really happened. It’s taken me a long time to even understand what happened. In fact, no one really knows the horror that went on behind the scenes. Cancer is sad, gross and painful. It’s not funny or sarcastic. Cancer is an asshole and the truth is ugly. No one really wants to hear the truth about cancer. This is The Truth About Cancer: Part 1.
The Truth About Cancer: Part 1
When someone asks, “how are you doing?”
The automatic general response is to always say, “I’m good! How are you?” I know that most people ask how I’m feeling with complete sincerity in their hearts but to this day, I’ve never given an honest answer. No one expects for you to say, “oh I feel like I’m literally dying and the pain, vomiting and diarrhea are unbearable.” It’s really hard to be honest when the truth is so ugly. Most people knew I wasn’t okay just by looking at my 90 pound body, but to get through the small talk I had to come up with my own honest truth. So, if you’ve ever asked me how I’m doing I probably said, “I’m getting stronger everyday.” That was quite truthful and probably the only thing that I could say that was not horrifying and awkward. I wasn’t good or fine but I was getting a little bit stronger with each day past. Plus, that’s what people want to hear anyway… No one wants to hear the truth about cancer.
On September 11, 2015 I was diagnosed with Pancreatic cancer.
My exact diagnosis at that time was, “you have a giant tumor in your abdomen. I don’t know what kind and I don’t how long it’s been there but it’s big and it’s probably cancer.” Then he started to choke up and walked out of the room before he lost his composure. I sat there staring at the wall in disbelief. Disbelief that this was happening. Disbelief that my family would have to go through this and disbelief that there could even be a tumor of such a magnificent size inside my tiny body.
How do I tell my parents? Am I going to die and leave my 7 and 2 year old without a mom? I wasn’t done mothering them. I wasn’t done with life. There was so much more I needed to do… I wasn’t done… And, what about my husband who was sitting next to me in complete terror?
My eyes welled up with tears but I wouldn’t let them fall.
I couldn’t talk or move. My heart was beating through what felt like an empty chest but I couldn’t let him see my emotions. I didn’t want him to think I was weak. If I held back my tears then maybe it wouldn’t be so hard for him. On the way home, he told me it was okay to scream and cry if I wanted, but I refused.
At that moment, I decided that I wasn’t going to fight this battle through pity. I knew I wasn’t the first person to have cancer and I wouldn’t be the last. I wasn’t going to feel sorry for myself and I didn’t want anyone else to either. On the other hand, I did feel sorry. I felt sorry for my family and my friends. It’s not fair to them. It’s not fair that they have to see this and feel this. My heart hurt so bad for them. This is just not fair…
This is the The Truth About Cancer: Part 1…Click here for Part 2!
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The Truth About Cancer: Part 1
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This Homemade Pizza recipe comes from the Diaries of a Picky Eater. AKA my kid!
If there is one thing he would want to eat on a daily basis; it’s pizza! (Of course, it’s pizza with NO cheese because he is the picky eater after all!) He actually ate homemade pizza almost every single day when he was in kindergarten. I couldn’t handle the stress of him starving while he was at school. I packed his lunchbox with pizza because at least I knew he had something he would actually eat and I would save the food battles for dinner time.
I know you want the recipe but first, I had to share this funny video of my daughter making her homemade pizza “with cheeeeese.”
Easy Pizza Dough Ingredients:
Active Dry Yeast 1 pkg (.25oz)
Granulated Sugar 1 tablespoon
Salt 1 teaspoon
Olive Oil 2 tablespoons
Water (warm) 1 cup
Add the yeast, sugar and warm water in a bowl and mix. Allow the yeast time (about 3-4 minutes) to activate and get foamy.
Pre-heat oven to 450 degrees.
Add the flour, oil, salt and stir. If the dough is too sticky; add flour a little bit at a time. If it’s too dry; add a tiny bit of water (about a teaspoon) at a time. Once the dough is to a desired cosistancy, let it rest in a dry warm place. (I wrap mine in a clean dish towel while I get my pizza toppings together.
Roll out the dough on a floured surface.
Bake the dough alone for about 5 minutes (until the dough starts to bubble up) on a baking sheet.
Homemade Pizza Directions:
Take it out of the oven and add the toppings of your choice.
Amazing Pasta Sauce, cheese, pepperoni, fresh basil, tomatoes, sausage, jalapenos, peppers, mushrooms, olives etc…
And of course, our mozzarella cheese would be moldy on pizza day! (Sad face emoji) We had to resort to using the “fiesta blend”. And just like that, we created Mexican Pizzas! Not my personal favorite cheese for pizza but it got the job done and for some reason the flavor it was better the next day!
Once your toppings are on, place the pizza back into the oven (directly on the oven rack for a crispier pizza) for about 8 more minutes. Time will really depend on the thickness of your pizza dough. You will know it is done when the crust becomes golden brown and the cheese is bubbling.
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So, is your kid entitled? What does this mean? This means that we are raising kids that have a “sense of entitlement”. They think they have the “right” to anything and everything they want without having to earn it. Here are a few questions you can ask yourself that go along with the article: Am I Raising An Asshole?
Do your kids have way too much shit?
Toys, toys and more toys! Do they have every single action figure and all the princess dolls ever made? (yet, they only play with the ONE favorite.) 37 pairs of shoes, 13 sippy cups, tablets, cell phones, video games, Netflix, Amazon Prime, all the apps, hundreds of books they never read because they’re always playing on their tablets and watching TV…. All this for two kids?! (I’m talking from personal experience here.) I always ask myself, why do two little people need so much shit? Is your kid entitled?
You feel like you are jumping through hoops to entertain your kids at all hours of the day! Stop it. They always have to be going places! They want to to be at the movies, restaurants, bowling allies, shopping malls, the farmers market, festivals and every local event happening in town (Damn those pop-up carnivals on the side of the highway!!) and when they see things they want; they have to have it! (and, you get it but you’re still complaining that they have too much shit in the first place!) So, is your kid entitled?
Life doesn’t have to be this difficult.
Get rid of shit! I promise you, they won’t even know its gone. Limit time on devices or use them as a reward for doing their chores. (Chore Chart) Chores should be rewarded and not paid for because when they grow up no one is going to pay them for doing their own dishes or cutting their own lawn. My kid tells me all the time, “I should get paid for this.” My response is, “We do. We feed you.”
Don’t be afraid to make them work for things they want. Teach them what business is and have them earn their own spending money. They will quickly learn the value of a dollar and it will give them something else to do rather than play video games. It will also give them a sense of accomplishment and pride in themselves. You can also use it as a learning tool to teach them about reading, math, accounting, people skills and so much more.
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Dear Perfect Parents,
You are raising an asshole. I know it’s hard to hear and none of your friends will tell you but it’s true. Is your kid always throwing a raging fit until they get what they want? Are they running your life? Have you ever stopped and asked yourself, “am I raising an asshole?”
I know that discipline is a touchy subject for a lot of people but lets talk about it anyway. Most people who get offended by this are probably the people raising assholes anyway. People today are terrified to discipline their children. Kids don’t know what consequences are anymore, they are entitled to everything and there are absolutely no boundaries between right and wrong. (Is Your Kid Entitled?) I understand that kids will throw a tantrum every now and then. They push their limits to see how far they can get. They get cranky and emotional when they are hungry or need a nap and that is totally understandable but kids shouldn’t be assholes all day long! How can you even enjoy your kids when they are demanding, bitching and complaining all the time?
Now I know a lot of parents will be offended by my words but the bottom line and my main objective is to remind you that you are raising a human being. That human being will one day be an adult human being and if you allow them to be asshole kids; you’ll have raised an asshole adult.
My mom said it best one day when I told her I was terrified of her when I was a kid. We never wanted to make mom angry! She said, “It wasn’t fear, it’s respect. Kids don’t know the difference but they figure it out. Are you afraid of me now?” The truth is, I completely respect her and yes I am still a little bit frightened by my mother. Her point is this, you have to teach them the difference between right and wrong which they don’t understand yet. However, they do know what they like and don’t like and if a little bit of fear is the vehicle you need to use in order to teach them consequences; then by all means use it. Absolutely and by no means am I encouraging any kind of abuse here whatsoever! Get that straight!
But seriously, continuously saying, “No, honey. Don’t do that. That’s not nice, sweetheart.” in that soft-mono-toned-non-aggressive voice is quite ineffective, annoying to the general public and your empty threats are a joke. If you threaten to do something, do it. Otherwise, you’re wasting your own time. These kids are running the show and we need to take back the reins! Can you imagine the next generation of a bunch of assholes? People always ask, “What is this world coming to?!” The answer is: A bunch of assholes. The world is coming to a bunch of assholes. Stop it. Seriously, ask yourself, “am I raising an asshole?”
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An open letter to my beautiful children,
I hope that when you read this letter you will have had children of your own to fully relate to what I’m about to say. Being a parent is the most liberating experience you will ever have in your life. You will discover feelings that you’ve never felt before and there will be no words to ever explain them. It will be the happiest and possibly the most difficult time of your life. If and when that time comes, you will quickly learn that you now possess some kind of anxiety disorder. There’s no doubt about it; parenting is a bipolar disorder. Period.
Parenting Is a Bipolar Disorder
We all see these amazing (and beautiful, I might add) family photos on social media all the time! These photos and posts about our wonderful kids are absolutely beautiful! They make us smile and get a lot of “likes” and “comments” on our pages. We enjoy seeing these highlight posts from our friends everyday and we enjoy posting them ourselves. It’s a way for us to preserve these beautiful moments so we can look back on them in the future. However, can you imagine what our Facebook pages would look like if we posted every single event that happened throughout our entire day? (I know some people who actually do that. Stop it.) However, life is real and not even close to being the perfect picture we paint on Facebook or any other social media. Truthfully, mommy’s tired! I’m tired of picking up your shit off the floor and then picking it up again! I’m tired of doing the dishes just to make a dinner that you probably won’t eat to make more dishes that will need to be done again. I’m tired of folding laundry, wiping butts in the middle of dinner time, finding the other shoe just so you can kick them off as soon as you get into the car. I’m tired of you fighting your nap time when you are clearly tired and hearing you bitch and complain about everything. I’m tired of watching nothing but kid shows on TV, having an audience in the bathroom and having absolutely no personal space. In fact, Mommy Needs a Drink right about now but I wholeheartedly promise you that every cute moment and all the adorable things you do will be shared proudly on all social media outlets because you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You give me a reason to live and I love you more than you will ever know.
There will be a day when I look back at all the things you did and laugh at the anxiety you gave me. I will miss these days. I actually cherish them. Even now, as you are sitting in time out at this very moment (while I’m writing this blog post) because you cut up our family photos with safety scissors. This time will pass and mommy loves you like a psychopath. So if you’ve ever wondered what drove mommy to insanity; just remember it’s all your fault because parenting is a bipolar disorder.