Progress. That’s the word I’m giving myself for this year to focus on. There’s apart of me that thinks it might be crap because everyone usually drops their new years resolution by what, February? Not this kid. I’m taking it as serious as I can. I think I need it for myself. My whole day is kids, food, pregnant, pee, more food, school pick up, homework, dinner and finally bedtime. I need the change for my sanity. Even if the change is one word.

SO….why progress? Honestly? Because I don’t think that I’ve made much in certain situations. I have a quick reaction rate. As in, something happens….boom. Anger. I mean there are other emotions I have but anger and irritation is one of the top ones. Certain people forever live under my skin. I don’t know why I let them get there, but I do. Hence, progress. Is it realistic? I think so. But I also think that Wendy’s should be a staple in everyone’s diet so, maybe I’m not the best one to take advice from. *insert shoulder shrug emoji*

Things I would like to make progress in? God. I try to squeeze him in where he fits-which is usually in-between a toddler meltdown and my nervous breakdown. I know what I have to do and I know he sees my heart and my intentions but that’s not good enough. I can’t keep getting by on only good intentions. I do the bare minimum and expect maximum change. I know better and I have to do better. I don’t want to be a camouflaged christian. That is more embarrassing than shouting what I believe everywhere I go.

My husband. There are things that I say that aren’t always encouraging. I am quick to tell him what he’s doing wrong or what he needs to change. Things I never ask him? What have I done wrong? What do I need to change? Now, I know I’m ALMOST perfect so there isn’t much to nit pick from on my end, but still im sure there are you know small pointless things I could do better. *haha* If hes late coming home for work I tell him how he should leave when hes supposed to and not put his job before his family. What doesn’t happen though is when he walks in late after working all day is him making any comments about the toys all over the floor. Or the fact that dinner might still not be done and that he might not have any clean pants for the next day. He could come home and complain like I do to him. But he doesn’t. I have to appreciate things like that. That I may have unrealistic expectations for him, but he doesn’t have any for me.

NEXT! Progress with my kids. My patience is usually at zero at all times. I want to be better than that. I want to sit down on the floor and make a mess with them and not care that I’m going to have to clean it up in five minutes. They need that from me and they deserve it.

Last but not least but actually least because I hate it more than anything. Progress in housework. *eye roll* I’m home all day and should be able to get it all done. I know that. It’s just that everything I have to put energy into, laundry is the last freaking thing. But that is my job and I have to take it more seriously. My family deserves just as much effort from me that they get from my husband when he goes and works 18 hour days. He gives his best, and I give……whatever I feel that day and I hate that. So. Progress!

–progressive thinking

So yesterday I woke up worn down and I hadn’t even rolled out of bed for the day yet. I took my oldest to the bus and came home and went right back to bed with my toddler until 11:15. I woke up STILL TIRED but I knew I couldn’t be like this all day. So, I forced my fat self up to do some laundry and fold it. No it did not get put away yet….one step at a time.

Fast forward to after dinner and relaxation, it was time for bed. Put kid number one to bed which is always the easiest because shes a sleeper like me. Then came kid number two….the two year old. I come up from cleaning up dinner to her in bed with my husband giving me the sweetest smile that I instantly shot down and broke the news to her that there was no shot in hell she was sleeping in my bed. I’m 7 months pregnant. I barely can get comfortable with my husband sleeping a foot away from me let alone a toddler with her feet dug in my crotch for warmth. So I grab her and we do our nighttime routine. Hugs, kisses, tucking her and her Doc Mcstuffins doll along with her orange golf ball into bed. Cut to a couple of hours later, or it could have been 20 minutes….I have no concept of time at night. Either way I was in a deep sleep. She wakes up crying. I go in, tuck her back in give the kisses and tell her goodnight. We did this about 3 more times over probably a two-hour span. Finally it was quiet. I crawl back in bed and adjust my 3 pillows and fall asleep.

*Some odd time later* Toddler wakes up screaming her legs hurt. I want to cry getting out of bed I’m so tired and hear my husband say just to bring her in bed, which is not an option. I go in and start rubbing her legs with my eyes closed and hunched over squashing the baking child. And then I start in the most polite, formal prayer I could muster up to let God know I was serious lol. “Please God help relieve Stella’s pain in her legs. Wrap your holy spirit around her to help her relax and fall asleep. Amen”. Silence. She’s asleep. Drag my body back to bed and lay there enjoying the silent night happening. Then I start thanking God for helping her and giving me the rest I need and then all the sudden I hear a whimper and out of no where I stopped and said, “You better get back in there” to God. I went from loving and grateful to “you better grab your child” real quick.

The night went on and she ended up waking up in pain again and at like 4am I brought her in so I could try to get some sleep. Then I woke up feeling guilty for yelling while praying lol. How come I could pull out this awesome prayer when I needed something? Why don’t I wake up every morning and pray like that? Why do I only do the polite prayer when I’m desperate? I’m getting lazy and comfortable and slacking in something that is important. To me at least. I need a strict schedule to get up and do my devotions, not get up and plan out my next nap. I make time for things when its convenient and if that’s my attitude no wonder I feel like God is taking a break from me. Maybe he will only want to be there for me when its convenient for him. Which I mean, have you ever seen Bruce Almighty? Does he ever have free time for convenience?

-the lazy prayer

My husband made dinner last night. He came home after working all day and seen the stuff I had sitting out on the counter for spaghetti and then seen the hesitation on my fat rear end to get up and make it. So he did. Without me having to ask or nag to. Just went in and cooked spaghetti. Can I tell you how amazing it was to eat dinner that I didn’t have to cook?! So here I sit, uterus and stomach completely full and completely happy. Well my uterus is still working its way to happy but my stomach is there full throttle.

I know that me being a stay at home mom means that I should have this house cleaned and dinner on the table when he walks in….right? I mean, that’s what I’ve been told by everyone who has had a opinon about it. But I can’t help but want to relax once he gets home and I tag him into the parenting corner. Is that selfish? Probably. I’m not sure I was ever built for the stay at home mom life. I hate cleaning. I love a clean house but I hate the process of doing it. I hate doing laundry. I hate doing the floors. I hate dusting crap off. I hate it all. Yet here I am literally employed as a stay at home mom. Does it get any easier? It’s been two years and there are days I want to light myself on fire and go work at Mcdonalds for a break. Then, there are days I am entirely grateful for the naps and pajama pants I get to stay in most days. So that’s the happy medium I guess. Death or naps. Quite the dramatic life I lead.

But when it comes to being a stay at home mom does your husband still have to pitch in 50%? Or, are you a one woman slave wife that is barefoot and pregnant not expecting any type of relief? I wish there was a rule book on how this is supposed to work. There are times I just want to scream, “HELP ME.” I mean there are times I scream it but for my internet composure lets say I don’t. Are we not supposed to expect any help being the stay at home parent? Because honestly, I worked all day too. Granted, my work day may have been wiping a butt and eating cheesecurls on the floor….but it still counts. Like every working person out there, I have bad days too. I have days where I LOATHE my boss who is a total of 2 1/2 feet tall. Now today was not one of those days. I had a doctor’s appointment, got a Starbucks (with my hidden stash of “I need a starbucks today” money) and had a lovely nap with my daughter. I had a nice day and still didn’t feel like making dinner. So tonight I got spoiled with spaghetti *cheesy grin*. Yeah, that’s right. You be jealous of that sexy little bowl I had served to me.

-Singed

I’m not sure what I’m doing here or what I plan to accomplish, but I started this because I believe I am not the only one struggling with this pyramid scheme called marriage and parenting. Just a heads up that punctuation and grammar will be scattered and probably used incorrectly much like my potty training knowledge with my toddler.

Oh where to begin. Well, I am a mother to two very rambunctious girls ages 9 & 2. I m currently pregnant with my third and FINAL child which thank the lord is a boy. I am married to a wonderful man who tests my patience daily. I am a usually semi-happy, full on sarcastic person. I’m trying to get better at life all around, hence the talking to myself on a computer screen. I think the venting and shared controlled chaos might help someone. Or maybe it will just help myself by letting my agitation pour out through my fingers….either way someones taking something from it. Even if that someone is me. *insert shoulder shrug*

Not sure why I keep starting new paragraphs but it feels right. I am a born again Christian. Pretty much my whole life has been based around church. You’d think I wouldn’t suck as much with the all mighty on my side, but here I am…sucking away. I know God knows my heart and intentions but there’s something he forgot to add into my brain that connects to my mouth that makes me struggle more as a Christian woman. I don’t always have the holy spirit running through my veins in traffic or Walmart check out lines. I judge people for things I probably do myself and pretty much want to help every person I come in contact with even though I end up regretting the drama 5 minutes later…*sigh* But again, he knows my intentions so he will cut me some slack on that, right?

Signing off,

-Hopeful  Disaster

 

 

 

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton