Motherhood.

It is 0817 as I begin this post. I'm sitting propped up in my bed and I can hear the tv from downstairs which means that my husband has at least woken up long enough to put something on to occupy our kids for a while longer. He is snoozing on a couch, no doubt. How do I know? Because there are not any other sounds in my house. He is NOT the quietest person in the world, even trying to make breakfast he could wake the entire town with his volume. Thus, he is snoozing on the couch. So what am I doing with my time? I opened up Facebook and I read many wonderful "Mother's Day" well wishes, some directed at me and some directed at all mothers. But my heart hurt as I read them and a conversation with my sister played over in my head. You see, I have 2 of the world's best siblings by birth (and 2 of the best siblings by happenstance) and my sister is one of them. She is incredibly strong and has overcome many things in her life which endeavor to make her less, and instead she conquers them. She wasn't much older than my daughter currently is when our parents had me, only 3 years difference, and yet despite having been raised in the same house and with the same parents, we have led quite drastically different lives. I have lived all over this country as an adult and she lives in the same general area where we graduated high school. Lest you think I like to move a lot, I do NOT. I hate moving. I like stability and roots. Back to my point. Just because we have the same origins it does not mean we will have the same outcome. We had drastically different needs growing up. Some met and others we still strive to get met. Here, though, is one area that we have accomplished the same thing in our 30+ years on this earth. We are both mothers. To human children. I have birthed both of my children and that, frankly, is the easy way to motherhood. Despite fertility issues, we have 2 beautiful and completely crazy children. My sister...she took the champion's way to motherhood and followed in the steps of many of our family members.

My big sister is technically my half sister, and this is ultimately only relevant when I speak of the other half. Our parents were married in October of the same year that she was born (at the beginning of the year). Our dad married our mom and Kristina became his first daughter. His brother and sister inlaw gave Kristina a stuffed bear (BooBoo) that very first Christmas, and some 30+ years later she still has it. Our parents had 2 more children, our brother and myself, and then they closed that shopped and raised us three. They never treated us differently and our dad made a point of it; he has 3 children that he raised and cared for. His brother fostered a woman and she is my cousin D. I don't know much about their story or this came to be, but she is family. [oh, I heard my husband stir] My cousin T has been married times. Stop your judgements, not everyone finds marital bliss on the first try and they aren't all his fault: sometimes shit is just broken and it's everyone's fault or maybe nobody's fault. [our daughter just woke up very angry] Back to my cousin. Wife #2 came with 2 boys from a prior marriage and T raised them alongside the child that they had together. Those 2 boys are family to this day and were never treated any different than the rest of the kids in this family. T is with wife #3, and while I've never met her, they are incredibly happy together and a great match by all accounts. I cannot wait to get to meet my new cousin and the wonderful daughters she brought to the family. Let us add this up: T has 1 child from wife #1, 3 boys from #2, and 3 girls from #3= 7 children that to him are entirely his own, of which only 2 are biologically his. I know that these are his kids. Because as a family they are still together. They still love each other. T has a younger brother, N. N's wife is...she is a force to be reckoned with. I don't know where she found the strength to date with a young daughter at home-personally it would terrify me. [text from my mom that my dad went out and got some exercise-go dad!] But Ms. B is a force and when her daughter was...you know I don't actually know how old she was...maybe in the 5th grade Ms. B and her kickass daughter joined our family. N got a much older first child and had to navigate parenthood with the best wingman a parent could ever ask for. Ms. B is kind of my hero. Anyways, they have 2 kids together and just celebrated the oldest of their 3 kids graduated college!! I can promise you that my cousin N was one of the loudest and proudest fathers there that night/day. She is one of his daughters. This is our family, and my sister is one of, clearly, many who have come to parenthood the champion's way.

Kristina has 3 children. She has been an instrumental and constant part of their lives and raising them every day for the last...5ish years (nope, I don't know and it doesn't matter). But this morning, I doubt that she woke up to breakfast in bed, or hand made cards filled with love, or handmade cards filled in with prompts from school teachers, or flowers from their dad [actually, this might happen-I don't know], or any other thing that many mothers will be showered with on this day. [I can currently hear my entire brood in the kitchen, I'm guessing waffles for breakfast] Kristina and their dad are not married yet (that's later this year) but she has been there for them, like every mother has been there for their kids, for nearly half a decade and there is no other title for her than "MOM". My sister laments that she doesn't get these things. There is no day for her, there is no sweet child that she has raised to look into her eyes and say, "I love you MOM". To her kids she is "Kristina". She didn't get teenagers, by the way; she got at least 1 still in diapers, and the oldest is still in junior high (so obviously they were 5 years younger than now when she came into their lives). But to them, she is not mom and she wants to have more kids. She doesn't want to have kids of her own, that expression doesn't exist; she wants more kids with her fiance. People can be rude and callous and demand to know why 3 isn't enough for her. She likes kids and she is a good mom, she can have more kids. And not once in 5 years have I ever heard her say, "I want kids of my own." She has said, "I want more kids with M" and "I want more kids." Nowhere in there is the modifier that they must be her biological children. On some level, I always consider (because I know she does want to experience pregnancy, she's delusional as you can see) her having at least 1 more kid that is hers biologically, but I also know her heart for the many kids in foster care who need families to love them too.

The strength it takes to raise someone else's kids as your own is strength beyond what a parent like myself knows. I came to motherhood the easy way. There were hormones to help me bond with my kids and I am fiercely protective of them. Don't believe me? Ask just about anyone who has stood in the way of my kids getting medical treatment. It doesn't go so well for them. Not every mom who gives birth to her kids will get the beautiful bonding right away, but I think many do. There are other ways to this motherhood gig. Surrogacy is an option and that doesn't necessarily mean any biological connection to that baby. Although, you do get all the sleepless nights and head banging screaming you daydreamed about when you struggled to have kids. There are foster and adoptive moms out there that I know have been raising big beautiful families of kids that were never babies in their arms. This is the champion's way.

There are military spouses out there that raise their kids in a fashion very similar to a commune. We are all mamas to each others kids, of course we get the title of aunties and get to send them back home-but do you think I wouldn't jump in front of a bus for any of my many bonus kids? I expect high school and college graduation tickets. Probably won't happen, but that is the level I love them. Gross with illness and I will snuggle those kids that aren't mine by biology, they are mine by the military. [not waffles, eggs and muffin with...decent coffee, in bed]

All of us are moms, we all deserve to be recognized as such. I got to meet my friend's mom this past week. She didn't raise my friend. She came into the picture somewhere in the teen years and she is mom. She is a wonderful grandma to my niece and nephews. She stepped in. She is mom. But in our society we only glorify the mom that came to it by birth or surrogacy or maybe adoption gets included. We don't include the moms who came to it that filled a hole or who walk alongside the biological mom (as my sister does). These aren't moms that get celebrated in the media. But they fucking should be. They deserve just as much recognition-if not more- than a mom like me. When my husband and I disagree on some parenting topic-we have equal footing on the battlefield that is trying to raise non psychotic killer children. My sister? She is the underdog. She treads a fine line of fighting for her babies and not stepping on anyone's toes-because there are fucking toes to step on. I'd never succeed in her shoes. Ask the people in my life, I don't just step on toes, I crush them. I'm not delicate. But she is winning at this. Her kids love her. They value her. How do I know?? She feels "unappreciated". All moms, how many of you feel appreciated by your kids? (I'll wait for that one mom in the back to come to terms with the reality that she hasn't gotten a thank yet for not strangling her 3 year old who woke her up by bouncing on her yesterday morning and that same 3 yr old decided to ask 80 thousand million questions before she had had her 1st cup of coffee...there we go). The thing is, kids aren't going to appreciate all the stuff we do for them (or don't do to them) until they are much older and/or wiser. I really love and appreciate that my mom has been mainlining caffeine my entire life. It has kept me alive. More than anything, I appreciate my mom's flaws. For 3 reasons: 1) it showed me things I don't want to do as a mother myself. 2) it showed me that mothers are human and fallible. 3) reasons 1&2 let me know that it's okay not to be perfect. [shit my kids are coming up here]

Here's the quick end of this post: women come to this gig called Motherhood in many different ways and we are all mothers. So to all of us, especially my sister:

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!

[0944]

I Watch You Breathe, So That I Can Too

Dear Sweet Boy,

I love you. It has been a long hard year and it's about to get harder, again. Daddy and I love you so much. I know you feel that you are less important to me. I know that you think your sister has taken over my attention. The military has ruined your perfect family in your eyes. Your teacher is gone, your friends are gone, you live in a place with rules about TAPS that you don't fully understand, your daddy has been gone for most of the year. Your life has been turned upside-down. You have made a few new friends but not as many as you could if you were in preschool again. There are so many new rules, they come with age, and you don't really like them. You have had to take a back seat to your sister's doctors appointments and you have so much energy that keeping you in a doctor's office isn't fair to anyone. I'm so sorry. I try to arrange for you to get to be with one of your friends while mommy takes baby sister to yet another specialist appointment. It just doesn't always work out that way though bud. I don't know how to explain to you that your friend's parents have lives and plans and they can't always have you over when little sister has an appointment. Sometimes, you have to come with us. It breaks my heart when I see you acting out because of this new dynamic where you get less time with mom and dad and sister gets more mom time. I know you think I sound mean when I correct your behavior (yet again), but on the inside I'm sobbing tears of sorrow that I pray you never understand.

Your sister sees over a dozen specialists and you have to go with us, or be home and not be involved for those appointments. You have to be quiet while mommy and doctors/therapists talk. When you ask me what is wrong with your little sister it is everything I have not to breakdown when I say, "I don't know". Because the truth of not knowing is killing me, and it's why we see so many specialists. "I don't know" is why the balance scales of mom's time are "unfairly" tipped in your sister's favor. "I don't know" are three words I don't want to ever say again in regards to your sister's health. I cringe at them, I hate them. I hate that 'I don't know' with every fiber of my being and my sweet boy I want you to know something: as fierce and passionate as you've seen me fighting for your sister, I will fight for you. You are just as loved and important as she is. You've seen me in full bitch/get the job done mode and you've seen me breakdown when I am lost in trying to help her. You have patted my back, held my face in your tiny hands, and told me that everything is going to be okay. You are the sweetest little boy ever, and in those moments my heart breaks all over again for you and what you are missing out on, what you are witnessing. My precious child, I wish you didn't have to see this sometimes. I tell myself that it's okay. That you are seeing what a strong mom/woman looks like. But mostly, in my heart, those are lies I tell myself to comfort myself.

What you don't know most is that your exhausted mom is fighting for you too. The only way for you to do your 2nd year of Cubbies is if mommy "volunteers" to help the AWANA Club. So mommy volunteers and you get to do your 2nd year of Cubbies. While other parents probably don't think much of it, this is asking a lot of your mommy. The time is incredibly inconvenient, there's a lot of work involved when trying to plan for everyone, our Sundays are fully booked. When we get home the last thing I want to do is make dinner and that whole nighttime routine thing, but I do it. I do it so that you have something that you love, that doesn't revolve around your sister. We did swim lessons, just for you buddy. You get to do crafts and projects (just you and dad or mom) that you love. I make myself be a better mom, for you. You challenge me to be more patient, be gentle and you remind me that I need more grace. You don't know it, but once the house is still and everyone is asleep for the night, I sneak into your room and watch you sleep. I count your breaths, breathe with you. While you sleep, sister sleeps, daddy sleeps (when he's home) I am in your room, praying over you, telling you that I love you, doing yoga and taking a few moments just to share space with you. When I finish, I kiss your forehead and sneak out down the hall. I pray over your sister before I snuggle up to my pillow (or your daddy if he's home) and I fall asleep with hope that tomorrow can be better.

I promise you my sweet boy, I will someday know what is going on with your sister. I have to find the answer not just for her, but for you as well. I love you, please hold onto that as we muddle through this.

Love,
Mommy

0'Dark30

You have got to be kidding me. Its what time? Go back to sleep kid. Shh...whisper, if you wake your baby sister...okay, I'm up let's go into the living room. Where are daddy's sweat pants? Got it. That's a wall. Okay, here is some non expired yogurt and granola. How do I work my Keurig again...? Let me dump my oats and raisins into this bowl, add water, microwave for 3 minutes...baby is still asleep. Here's Netflix on the Nook, now let mommy get her 30 minute work out in before baby sister wakes up...fuck! Okay, pause and dash. Change baby, love on her, dress her...why does this onesie have so many snaps!? Remote out of toddler reach, oats on the table baby in left arm (the only arm her highness will permit me to carry her in), where's my water? Oh, got it. At least I can sit and have a relaxing breakfast...you shouldn't stand on the stool (queue screaming), that's why.

This, this is every freaking day of my life. This is what it looks like to try to be wonder woman.

My child is doing something in the other room that sounds...like there's no sound and therefore needs immediate attention...legos, right, where are my shoes?

This is what it looks like. I can barely believe I function and I'm in utter awe that my kids are still alive and my precious dog hasn't run away. No joke, he puts up with a lot.

There's a lot of talk about how moms need to take care of themselves first. Can't take care of anyone else if you are run down. Right?

Toddler made a noise...legos and we're wearing the infant insert for the Ergo as a hat...

Self care...the problem is that we approach motherhood with this belief that our self care must come in a block of time set aside each day for us to just be...us. To find our peace and our center. But then...BAM, reality hits you right in the face. Your exhausted, can't remember when I showered last, do I even have toothpaste for these teeth, face. Seriously, get some freaking toothpaste, your teeth are furry. You can't remember your name much less how to achieve some sense of self and peace. And that block of time? When is that going to happen? Right...as the new proud daddy freaks the hell out because the baby cries if it's not with you...uh-huh.

Welcome to motherhood. Now let's have a real chat about what self care really looks like.

At some point during my day I will finish that 30 minutes of working out. When? I can't say. I will try again whenever the opportunity arises. Even if that's after both kids are in their own beds, asleep. It WILL happen. I have a cup of cold coffee on my stove. I will drink it and it will be hot (okay warm) when I do. See its Sunday. And on Sundays we go to church. If you aren't church going people, rethink that right now. Its called free child care. They watch your kids while you sit in service, and in my case, sip on my warm coffee. Rethink it, seriously. You get to sit down and be undisturbed. Its lovely. My dog? He will get a walk. My toddler loves to take the dog for a walk and my leash is meant to attach to your waist. So he has it around his waist, leash clipped to dog, baby in Ergo, and the center of the leash is in my hand. Its kind of perfect. So, endorphins from the walk, more endorphins from the work out, caffeine from the coffee...I can make it through this day. Oh and there's nap time. Think I'm kidding? My toddler will go down for a nap despite his best efforts to fight me on this. He has yet to win. He wins with his dad, but not me. My dog will get fed...soon in fact. He will get fed, I will get the tiny toddler monster on the potty, dressed, and shod.

I know you're thinking that at least when my husband gets home I'll get some reprieve. Wrong! My husband will be home...sometime tomorrow. I'll get to see h for a day and a halfish and then he's gone again. My reprieve is that some times, while he is at work, we can visit him for dinner. Where he parents and I get to eat a meal with two free hands. That's my exciting reprieve. When my husband is home he does help out. But then I am not just a mom. Then, I am a wife too. And that's it's own can of worms.

I just remembered that I was going to be super mom and make blueberry muffins for breakfast.

See, self care isn't about a chunk of time set aside. At least, not when you're a mom to small children. Its about finding time to do things that help you function at your best. Like coffee, working out, sitting down for a minute. I read books in 10 minute increments because when my husband is home, I go hide in the car with a book for 10 minutes. Sometimes, I drive to the beach and read. (The beach is 2 minutes away).

Okay, back to being Wonder Mom.