Realizations of a Social Networking Mama

Socializing has come a long way since I became a mom. Discovering I was pregnant was not met at any point with the thought of when to make it Facebook official. Or any other equivalent social networking site either. Eleven years ago Pinterest, Instagram, and Twitter weren't around, and Facebook had literally just come about.

I never gave any thought to unique and exciting ways to announce my pregnancies. Or tried to pick the perfect timing. Nor did I consider celebrating the milestones of my kids' childhood this publicly. Or open up my family's life like I've done. However, today that has become a big part of the decisions I make all the time.

It's as present on my mind after I see those two little lines as "oh crap when was my last period?" This thought may not be relatable to everyone; but living so far away from the majority of people who matter in our lives, I honestly can't help it.

Social networking is a huge part of my family's day to day. Some days I'm perfectly okay with this, some days not so much. I accept, however, that this dulls a lot of the pain for the grandmas missing their grandkids right now. So I will continue to do so.

My kids' grandparents, greats, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends get to be a part of their lives because the power of Facebook. To me that makes it worth it.

Since these sites have become increasingly popular over the last few years it's hard to ignore the desire to join in on the fun. Even not being far away from family and friends.

With my last two pregnancies and my own increased use it has become more apparent that there are so many ideas I wish I would've recorded for my first four kids.

Exciting pregnancy announcements, gender reveals, crafty celebration pieces for your home, milestone markers for ages, grades, life events, all things I never thought about until I became addicted to Pinterest. All things that now that I'm adding a sixth child to my brood feel slightly less exciting to share.

Seriously. How many people are enthusiastic towards a mother of five inviting you to her gender reveal party for baby number six? How many enjoy seeing the many growing belly shots of yet another pregnancy? How many people care what you're craving? Or what's happening in this week of pregnancy?

Now swap out mother of five with first time mom. Tell me I'm not the only person who can see the difference?

Google "pregnancy announcement for fifth child" though and see what you find.

I think it would be awesome to be a first time mom right now. The ideas you have at the tip of your fingers because of social media are endless. So for veteran moms like me it's kind of sad missing out on moments like these.

I know. I know. There are many people out there who couldn't care less if this is your first or your twelth. Babies are either exciting or they aren't. But, being a veteran mom, expecting yet another bundle of joy, I can't help but notice how silly I feel posting anything about the milestones of this pregnancy.

Maybe it's because there aren't many new and exciting things that happen when you've been pregnant as many times as I have. Sure there are plenty of new things that can happen, but "new" is usually never coupled with "exciting." It's usually more in the ballpark of horrifying, hellish, or at the very least unpleasant.

When I scroll through my news feed and see the updates of a first time mom, I can't help but feel nostalgic. The wonder of the unknown, the joy of what's to come, the nervous anticipation of what to expect. All amazing parts of experiencing child rearing for the very first time. Or even the second or third for that matter.

When I see the awesome YouTube videos, the amazing photography ideas, the effort and love that reaches all corners of the earth; I battle the urge to be overflowing with happiness for them with being incredibly jealous.

When it comes time for your fourth, fifth, or sixth, to me, it seems like you aren't expected to act as happy.

Having another baby are ya? You do know what causes that right? Were you trying for another baby? So who's getting fixed now?

Questions people seem to think are perfectly within their right to ask. So imagine the reaction to that group picture you're trying to take with everyone saying "Saaayyy Susie's Pregnant!" Instead of the usual "say cheese." Sure you're going to wind up sharing some interesting expressions, but how many of those are going to be looks of excitement instead of the again? faces.

Now, do any of these feelings of hesitancy stop me from pinning four hundred pins of baby gear, announcement, and photo ideas on Pinterest? Hell no. A good idea is a good idea. At worst, I just owe my older kids an apology for not doing as many awesome activities through the early years with them. My bad kids. I was a newbie at the internet.

Facebook and Instagram become a whole new arena though. Being that these two platforms are specifically designed to socialize on. As much as I try to I can't get over feeling like no one cares about how big my belly is, what week of pregnancy I'm on, if I'm craving gummy bears and French fries, or what piece of produce my unborn child is measuring in line with this week.

I want to proceed on my way capturing these moments regardless. I just feel reluctant to share my excitement with those I connect with online. And yep, it is my Facebook and yes I can post whatever the Hell I want. I'm just considerate of my friends and I do take the time to decide how well a post will be received before I put it up. You're welcome by the way.

So I suppose to the other veteran moms who feel this way, I say to you, screw everyone else. Yeah, I don't share as much as I probably would've been able to with my first or second, but I'm not going to refrain altogether. I will go on about the next several months celebrating this new life I'm adding to my family. And for the record, I am one of those people who are excited to see any new addition you have to your family as well. No pregnancy will be identical, no child the same, so do whatever you want during this time.

With all the negativity in the world it is a welcome change to see so much positive in your life. And I will stand by my desire to see a growing bump next to a chalkboard before another damn bathroom selfie any day of the week.

Embrace each moment because the way I see it, it may not be your first child and you may already have one of each gender, but this very well could be your last experience as a pregnant woman. This may be the last time you feel the kick of life within you, the last time you have an opportunity to blame all the nasty moods, excessive sleeping, weird food cravings on something other than just being a strange and crazy person. Document and share at your leisure because you have the ability and no one has the right to make you feel like you shouldn't.

Why My Husband Says He Hates Me When I'm Pregnant and I Completely Understand

One thing I believe every mother can agree on is how much men just don't get it. The havoc creating life can wreak on a woman's body is mind boggling and miraculous. But when you're in the throes of it, it only feels like tourcher.

I've never pretended to be an easy person to get along with. I'm highly emotional even during the calmest times in my life. I wear my heart on my sleeve and analyze even the smallest statements directed towards me. It's not something I'm necessarily proud of, but it is something I've accepted about myself. I feel too much.

At this point you would think my husband halfway knows what to expect. For the most part I guess he does, but it's a very superficial type of understanding because he just can't wrap his brain around the amount of work my motionless body is doing. He doesn't understand why I can't just suck it up and push myself to get things done that need to be done.

Maybe I've spoiled him? Or maybe he's just as stressed out as I am?

I wish like hell I could stomach standing at the kitchen sink long enough to tackle the foul smelling collection of dishes that have piled up over the last few days, but I just can't. I wish I could cook a fabulous supper and enjoy the one moment of the day where my family is all together, but I just can't. My stomach won't allow it. My energy won't cooperate. My body hates me right now because it's focus is where it should be: On creating new life. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow is as good a day as any for me to have a "good" day. My body may decide to loosen the metaphorical umbilical cord and allow me a few gulps of fresh air.

This isn't a post to bash my husband nor one to write my pregnant self a pass. It is to acknowledge that right now I'm a barely functioning, hormonal nightmare; and my poor husband reacts accordingly because he gets the shittiest end of all of it.

We have gone through a lot in our six short years together. Seven pregnancies, 3 miscarriages, relocation, estrangement, death, financial hardship, everyday stress. Our marriage isn't perfect. Thankfully, neither of us expect it to be.

When I break down crying because he hurt my feelings he's rightfully confused. He didn't really even say much of anything, but I read between the lines and forgot to cut him some slack. He can't fix what's going on with me right now and it bothers him. I'm his wife. I can tell.

When my emotions are too much for him he snaps. He looked at me the other day and point blank to my face said "I hate you when you're pregnant." I won't act like it didn't cut me deep. Because it did. More so than any other thing he has ever said to me. But I've thought about it a lot and I realize I hate me when I'm pregnant too.

Whoever thinks pregnancy is some marvelous experience that opens you up to how strong and amazing you truly are has clearly only been pregnant once or twice. Or is some freak of nature that never experienced the real "joys" of pregnancy like morning sickness, sheer and utter exhaustion, and mood swings from hell to name a few. Don't get me wrong. Having a baby truly is a gift from God, and the good parts always outweigh the bad otherwise why would I put myself through this for the umpteenth time?

I can only speak from my experience and I'm just not a nice person during this time.

Memories of Your "Mean Mom"

You know kids... One day you'll read this and memories of me will come to mind. Sometimes those memories won't be very pleasant and I think we should take a minute to explore that.

As well intentioned as I may be, sometimes I'm slightly ... Let's say, unbalanced.

Sometimes the crying and the arguing; the 12:30 am wake up calls from the puking five year old; the stabbing pain from misstepping while walking through the Lego minefield that's been on the bedroom floor for the last three days; and the tiny little hands that have permanently attached themselves to the side of my leg throws something off inside me which in turn makes me a not-so-nice mama to be around.

As much as I want to take a deep breath and find my center before addressing the unfavorable situations we find ourselves in, I also know that trying to pass on a logical solution to a four year old is going to go over about as well as vacuuming our lawn.

The reality is sometimes your mom has bad days. Bad days that make me your "mean mom." Bad days that cause you to roll your eyes and stomp your feet. Days that make you scream and cry and threaten to run away and never come back.

Sometimes I lose my shit and say things I don't mean. Sometimes those things are more funny than scary, like the time I told Penelope that if she didn't let me brush her hair I would just shave her head. Sometimes those things are more mean than helpful, like the time I told Lydia to stop throwing a fit about her shoes and look for them because if I found them first I was going to leave her home alone.

Others may not see the gravity in the things I've said to you, but Lydia your gentle heart broke at the thought of being left behind. My frustration in trying to get everyone ready so we could leave and still not being ready myself made me lash out unfairly at you. Sure, you really did need to stop walking around in circles crying because it was clearly not helping you. But, I could've started asking where you looked and gave you places to check to help the situation instead of leaving you in a panic from the unfair ultimatum I handed out instead.

There are many times I yell first and ask questions later. Times I don't give you a chance to explain yourself before I say "I don't want to hear it, go to your room." There are days you get in trouble for stuff your brother or sister did and had no control over. Or moments I am disappointed because I expected more from you than what (in hindsight) was reasonable.

I know one day when you read this you'll remember the mom that was angry and belligerent. The mom who told you to shut up and leave her alone. The one who only wanted five minutes of quiet before she lost it. The one who made you feel like an inconvenience instead of the incredible blessing that you've always been.

I wish I could give you a childhood free of these experiences. I wish I could picture a future where you read this and say "what in the world are you talking about mom?" But I'm realistic kids. Your mom is a basketcase. For better or worse.

Someday, you'll have your own unstable moments. Moments where you snap at that mini version of you. The one who isn't really the reason you are frustrated. The lack of sleep and non stop go, go, go energy that radiates from them will grate on your nerves and the exhaustion will get the better of you. You'll hurt that sweet kid's feelings.

At the moment it may seem like the biggest parenting fail of your life. I promise you it's not. I'm not a perfect parent you guys. As your memories may remind you. But my imperfections don't lessen the amount of love I have for you. They just make me human. Just as they do for you.

Fact is guys, there's a lot of things I may not do right. There's probably a ton of things I could do better. But, being a parent is not about appearing like you always have your shit together. It's about providing an example of embracing all parts of who you are as a person. Accepting you are flawed and showing how to push on, admit when you're wrong, and strive for better.

And sure sometimes "angry mom" could be avoided. But sometimes "angry mom" is the result of you kids acting bad as Hell.  Sometimes I can't handle that tantrum over your marshmallow being smashed. Or the fit because I can't make the sun move out of your eyes. I'm sorry that's the best corner of the couch, how about you scootch it over an inch and ta-da no more sun in your face.

Sometimes I can't deal with one more mess. The kid that is covered head to toe in baby powder, or toothpaste, or marker. The make-up that is wiped all over my mirror and carpet and clothes in my closet. The lake you've created on the bathroom floor and fishing toys out of the toilet.

Sometimes I just want you to get along. Stop touching your sister, stop making that humming noise your brother has repeatedly asked you to quit for the last five minutes. Stop taking that toy, or that spot, or that blanket. No one cares that you wanted the red plate. Not the blue, not the yellow, not the green. The red. Babe, they all have the same food in them.

You kids have been the greatest blessing God has ever given me. You have gotten me through so many of my own self doubts and you have made me a better person than I thought I could be. So when you reminisce about the kind of mother I have been all I ask is that you remember, you outnumbered me six to one. Please be thankful you survived. Lord knows I am.

Love you all forever and ever,
Mama

For the Future Moms

Hey you. Yeah you.

The woman over there with the heartache in her eyes. The one who's breath catches just ever so slightly as she watches her friends coddle and gush. Smile on her face, longing in her heart.

I see you, you beautiful soul.

The lady who's face lights up as she cradles her best friend's newest piece of joy in her arms. Daydreaming about her future. The one who feels the emptiness in her gut as she wonders when her time will come.

I see you.

I see the pain in your face you try to hide. Hear the wavering of your voice as you wish congratulations to yet another person's exciting news. I feel the ache in your presence.

I can't pretend to understand your pain. Nor can I relate to the struggle you've endured. But, I respect the agony of what a day like today can do to your soul. The confusion and anger you must feel. The unrelenting desire you can't seem to satisfy.

I see you.

I wish I had the answer for you. A way to make it happen. All I can say is that I pray for you. For God to see inside your heart and fill it with the one thing that is missing. The one thing that you'd give anything for.

So on this Mother's Day, I want you to know that today is your day too. For you future moms. For you stand in moms, the moms whose hearts love so unconditionally that they are full for children they haven't even been blessed with yet. The ones who love all children because that's the only thing in them to do.

One day I pray you have the blessing of a little hand to hold. A little tummy to soothe. A nose to kiss and a world to light up.

Until then darling woman, I see you and I root for you.

Happy Mother's Day (future) Mom.

Spoiler Alert : I Yell At My Kids ( And I'm Not Ashamed )

I don't know about you, but my days seem to always find a theme. Sometimes I notice it right away, other times the theme becomes apparent when I'm settling in for the night and reminiscing over the day's events.

Today's theme reared it's ugly head by 8 a.m. by which time every single one of the kids had already been yelled at.

Yeah. I'm a yeller. I have two modes really, yell and yell louder.

I threaten and send to bedrooms. I get exasperated and over explain. I ask rhetorical questions and try (mostly without success) to not lose my shit. I am not a perfect mom and usually feel incredibly bad afterward. But a lot of times I don't. And I'll tell you why.

I know that I could handle myself better. That I could close my eyes and count to 10. Or remove myself from the situation. Sometimes I definitely do, I mean everyone has their limits. My children tend to test mine frequently. I know I could "use my words" as I often advise my children.

But do you know what I never do instead?

I never put down my kids.
I never shut down their emotions.
I never get physical.
I never judge them.
I never forget to apologize when I'm wrong.
I never forget to point out what they did right.
I never forget to say I still love you.

Sometimes my overly emotional (currently hormonal pregnant) self reacts first and thinks later. Sometimes when I say shut up and find something to do, what I really mean is I love you child, but I'm in a bad mood and need you to find something to do before I go insane and take everyone with me.

I know they're young and are still learning, but please forgive me for noticing that kids are assholes. Even my adorably innocent bunch who I'd walk through fire for.

I refuse to beat myself up for losing my cool when they push every button I have before my morning cup of coffee has even started to get hot. On days where I'm more of a referee than a parent I feel like it should be completely understandable that I need to yell to be heard; and even more importantly, believed. Especially when my voice has to carry over the five heathens shrieking and squawking at my feet.

Getting down on myself isn't productive for anyone. I can tell you where feeling overly guilty and constantly doubtful leads you; to the corner of Anxiety Pkwy and Depression Ave. Been there, done that, not going back.

I know sometimes I'm not the best mom I could be, but I never doubt that I am a good mom. Despite spending the first several years of motherhold being openly judged and ridiculed for my decisions. I chose to stop letting others opinions dictate the way I parent my kids.

Reality is harsh and wanting to protect my kids from it is a natural instinct. However, there are certain realities that I knowingly expose them to. One being that sometimes the only way to vent your frustrations is to open your mouth and let it out. That, of course, isn't a go ahead to verbally abuse someone, but it's my way of saying it's normal to lose your shit every now and then.

Many may disagree, but I will embrace that decision to the fullest. Just because my view is different than some on how these realities will affect their future selves will never make me feel like I'm wrong.

So while I'm over here barely hanging on by the loose thread at the bottom of my yoga pants, my kids are tiptoeing through the house so as not to disturb the resting beast. Maybe not the best way to win over all the Mommy Shamers who may criticize my techniques, but I'm completely ok with that. At least for the moment I'm sitting in quiet, relaxing my now sore vocal cords.

Getting Past the "Step" in Step-Parenting

I had someone ask me awhile back how long it took me to stop seeing Aubrie as my stepdaughter and begin feeling like she was one of my own. It was a question I should've expected to be asked eventually I guess. I just hadn't thought about it yet. 

The more I consider the posts I write to what my heart feels compelled to share I realize that this is more than me writing my family's history. More than something to leave my children one day. This unorganized, raw glimpse into my family's life is for people who are struggling to make sense of their own family life.

We aren't the conventional family. I don't have all the answers. Very few in fact. I do have loads of my own personal experiences and beliefs that I feel very strongly about. And being Aubrie's mother is definitely one of them. 

So when this person posed the question I had to think about it for a moment.

I'm not sure there was ever a conscious choice for me. It wasn't something I decided, it was something I felt.

I was head over heels for her father. She was born seven months after we had started seeing one another and those seven months were nothing like anything I had ever experienced before. My husband treated me like a queen from the very beginning. So naturally when I saw him cradle her in his arms and watch him fall in love with her in an instant, my heart swelled. Not just for him, but this perfect extension of the most incredible man I had ever met.

This man who had taken my daughter as his own only months before.  Without expectations of being with me forever. He fell in love with her and saw that she deserved someone who would put her before themselves and he was more than willing to be that man.

We have a strong commitment to family. Our children's feelings come first in all decisions we make. When you ask me how did you get to that spot? How did you overcome feeling like just another person in her life? I just smile and wonder how could I not?

These children didn't ask to come into this world. They didn't ask for us to be the people who watch out for them. She surely didn't ask for me to be her mom. Just as Lydia never asked my husband to be her dad. Life however, takes us places we never knew we always wanted to be. You don't make a decision to start loving anyone, why would you think you would do it for a child?

There aren't "step" parents in our house. We are parents. Pure and simple. Does my son have a biological father? Of course. Is he in the picture? Yes. Am I Aubrie's biological mother? No. Does that make me any less of a mother to her? No.

We are parents to our children regardless of the prefix. Step, biological, adopted, doesn't matter. They all end with "parent." A child doesn't put a distinction on something unless it's learned. If you acknowledge that you are different then you are. But, if you accept your family for what it is then they will too.

All families are unique. I understand that not all parents involved get along (trust me). I know that sometimes kids can be difficult. Especially when they are older and adjusting to something entirely different than what they're use to. But every choice you make will lead you in a direction that's hard to come back from. You can make conscious decisions based on what you think is easiest or you can lead with your heart and do everything you can for this extension of your spouse.

Life's greatest gifts are our children. They give the world a promise of tomorrow. If we damage them by holding them in the middle of our conflicted feelings we start a cycle of negativity not only for them, but for those they encounter throughout their lives. The biggest expectation I have for my children is that they live their lives putting what's right before all else. Even when it's the unpopular choice. Even when it is hard as Hell. Even when they know it's going to change their lives forever.

Yes, loving Aubrie as my own was the right decision. More importantly though, loving Aubrie as my own was what my heart told me to do. I may not always trust my thoughts, but I always trust my heart. I am one of the lucky ones who didn't decipher between what was easy and what was right because in my case they were the same thing. It was easy to love her. It was easy to accept her and best of all my actions easily led her to loving me too.

So in my own long, roundabout way I hope I answered her question. In a day and age where we are constantly bombarded by labels I implore you to consider removing yours. You aren't a stepparent. You are a parent. So be a great one. 

13 Quirks I've Accepted Since Having Kids

So I'm at it again folks. I'm in a self discovery phase I think. I keep having random realizations about myself and feel compelled to note them. I suppose nothing seems amiss with this except I apparently then feel compelled to share these ideas with the public. 

Today's realizations came after a conversation with a close friend. A fellow mom with a larger than average family. A mom who gets me and these habits I've had to create in our house to keep my sanity. In retrospect I really didn't realize these..... well, let's call them quirks, became ingrained in me. Nevertheless they have made their mark deeper than the shiny pink scars etched slightly left of my belly button.

1. Everyday I pick my battles. This did not happen over night and some days are still better than others, but I can tell you there's quite a difference in what I deme worthy battle material between my first kid and my fifth. It's simple really, once I became outnumbered I decided it isn't worth the stress. So by all means Dimitri go right ahead and eat that cookie off of the ground.

2. Spongebob is not a babysitter. However, after playing twelve rounds of the ever popular game 20 questions I no longer care if they melt their brains with television for the next three hours just please stop talking.

3. No, I didn't brush my hair today. I no longer use myself as a reference of how successful of a day I've had. (I can see my hubby mouthing 'shocker' now). As long as my kids have made it through another day in one piece, I'm doing a pretty satisfactory job in my book.

4. This smells clean. I have accepted that a family of seven builds up a couple loads of laundry everyday. I have not accepted the responsibility of doing those loads of laundry everyday. General rule of thumb in our house - if it doesn't have something smeared on it, you can wear it at least one more time. If not two.

5. It's called "chill time." Spend a day in our house and the biggest thing that will stick with you is the noise level. After several hours of yelling, giggling, running, and stomping this mom of five has to have a break. Since I get it's pretty dumb of me to expect a 10, 6, and 5 year old to take a nap with their younger siblings they just have to play quietly in their rooms for a couple of hours. Assuming they can make it through that time without falling asleep or me hearing them in general, it's the second best time of my day. The first being bed time of course. Ha!

6. I fake play hide and seek. Really I do this to kill two birds with one stone. First, I'm getting in some fun me and my wild bunch time. I mean, they don't know I have a hidden agenda so to them it's a ton of fun trying to figure out what crazy spot I've wedged myself into. Second, the hidden agenda I spoke of - I can eat the ice cream I've been hiding in the back of the freezer without fear of being caught and having to share.

7. Yes, I did say that. Let's go back and visit number 5. Remember me talking about you spending a day in my house? Good. The second thing that would probably linger in your mind are the crazy things you've heard us say to them. One example being my husband or myself calling our children feos (ugly) about a dozen or more times. Notice their reactions? How they didn't burst into tears? Or get angry? Or really seem to notice at all? That's because our kids aren't little bitches...oh I'm sorry I mean our kids aren't little bitches. While others may consider this the very definition of bullying our children by name-calling, we say it's character building. Words only have the power you give them.

8. It's not really a lie. The tooth fairy's small she gets lost a lot. Keep it up and I'll call Santa. I have to do that because it's in the mommy rule book. All phrases I have uttered to my children at one point or another. All things I consider to be parental tales of love. I fib because I care.

9. You're my favorite. This may seem crazy to some, but it works in our house. I've never seen my children more amped to finish all of their supper or clean their entire bedroom or see who can be the quietest until I introduced "which one of you will be my favorite today?" Since it's all in good fun they can get pretty competitive, which can be hysterical to watch all in itself. Plus, it may or may not be rigged so everyone equally becomes my favorite by the end of the week. Please refer to number one.

10. I will make a scene. This is twofold really. On one side, the kids have finally accepted that if they act a fool in public, so will I. On the other I will call out any person in public if I feel like they have over step the boundaries that keep a peaceful existance between the world and my family.

11. I don't play the tattle game. If you aren't bleeding, broken, or on fire. If there's no shattered glass, giants puddles of liquid, or messes by the dog. Then my children know what I'm going to say. I do not care. Figure it out. Tattle again and you'll be the one in trouble. If I play this game even once it never ends.

12. I'm a habitual idle threatener.  My kids are starting to figure out I'm a lot of talk with a little less action. But with the better part of 14 hours spent everyday being more of a referee than a mom I'm doubting how much I care. So for your amusement here are some popular threats I'm known to throw out - If you don't find your other shoe, you aren't going. If you punch your sister one more time I'm going to punch you. I will knock you out in the middle of this store if you throw one more fit.

13. I'm my worst critic. At the end of the day I know that I'm doing the best I can. I'm not proud of every parenting moment, but I am proud to be me. For every time I'm hard on my kids I am twice as hard on myself for being that way. I have to remind myself I'm shaping future little people not future assholes and then I feel better.

Having a large family forces you to accept a few things about yourself. Traits that the average individual may not appreciate. Traits that may cause strangers to gawk and family to gossip. That may make you question yourself and stress, but I really need to take a moment and say this energetic, slightly batty tiny little lady right here gets it and is screaming a hearty "welcome to the club!" all the way from a little farm town in Iowa, USA.