Mani/Pedi My Way to Heaven

I've just decided that the perfect window into my soul, or my insanity, is my nail polish, or lack there of. Actually lack there of would be good, right now, my nails are a tattered mess of peeling lacquer. I seriously look as if my nails have been bleeding, the red nail polish is peeling and shredded, and remnants of my decals look like squished bugs permanently fossilized in a blood red mess.

They were pretty a week ago.

I'm doing this new thing with Madi, every week we're doing our nails together. Yup, I wanna be "that mom". I want her to feel pretty, I want her to know how to sit still while they dry and I want people to comment on how cute her little nails are, which they do regularly. *pat self on back*.

On the first day we do our nails, we feel beautiful, David looks at our nails and comments on how great they look, we dress better, we do our hair, we feel and look pretty. But as the days go on, and the dishes need to be washed, diapers need to be changed, and well for Madi, lizards need to be caught and mud pies need to be made, our polish starts wearing off, our beautifully filed nails start to snag, and pretty soon they just look, well horrible. I really should just take the polish off, but I suppose in a way I leave it there for a day or two to learn something about myself?

Okay maybe I'm just lazy.

I guess this is the point; it's nice to have our nails all pretty and done up, it feels great and elegant, but well, that's just not us. We do our nails knowing perfectly well that in a day they will be scraped, or bitten off, they will be scrubbed after a diaper explosion. We could never make it without doing these things, we would go insane. We need the activities that ruin our polish, for survival, for fun. And maybe that's why I leave the scraped nasty polish on for a few days too long. It's a record, a history. When I feel lazy, or I feel as though I haven't gotten anything accomplished being a stay at home mom- I can look at my nails and think "wow I've done a lot of stuff to mess up my nails!" and that feels good. You have to be working (or playing) pretty hard to accomplish our level of nail ugliness, and that is something for me to be proud of. I never want Madi to be one of "those girls"... "I can't do that! I'll mess up my manicure!" I want her to look at her torn up hands and think, "I've been busy!"

At the beginning of the post I wrote that my nails could be a representation of my soul, and well that's just it: when my soul feels like crap, worn out, scraped up, nasty, with fossilized bugs on it, I can count on God to let me feel it for as long as I need to, in order to grow, then He'll wipe it clean and put on a fresh coat...which I'll eventually screw up again, and He'll eventually fix up again. I know it sounds silly, elementary, and probably a little apathetic, but seriously God is that parent. The one who wants us to learn, to mess up, to have reality discipline. He's there watching, allowing us free will even though He knows we'll get hurt, and learn (hopefully), and every time we do it brings us closer to His understanding.

I know, "nail polish and God" how did she get there??? Sometimes the voices in my head get confused, what can I say?!

But seriously, I pray that I'll be more inclined to show people my tattered nails, be it, my actual manicure, my tired soul or my failures, please Lord help me to never allow my appearance to get in the way of your work.

Adorable Terrorsits

I’m exhausted. Plain and simple, exhausted. I’m so tired I feel as though I could sleep for a week and still wake up feeling totally burnt out, cranky and on the verge of tears. The sad part is that I have no huge claim to this exhaustion; I haven’t just run a marathon, I haven’t just traveled the globe, I’m just a mom and a housewife. My days are spent doing everything for everyone else, even showering feels like work right now.

I know this sounds horrible, I know I sound totally pessimistic and well, like a whiny little bitch. I know that I need to just put on my big girl panties, deal with it and keep on trucking, but I wonder…do all new moms feel this way? Am I so totally chemically imbalanced? Is my post partum depression so bad that this isn’t normal? Or is it normal? Does every mom feel this way at one time or another?

Does anyone else not want to fall asleep because they know that within a few short hours they will be awoken by a crying child? Does anyone else get angry when they are awoken by a crying baby? I’m seriously asking… because I feel like the worst mom in the world.

I try to fill my daughters’ days with learning, reading, playing; I want to create an environment where exploration is celebrated. But as my 7 month old crawls around and forces me to get up once again to pull her away from trouble I get so very frustrated.

Yes motherhood is a lot of work, most days I wish I did have a job to go to, just to get a break, just to miss them, to escape the dishes, the laundry, the diapers for a few hours. I know a lot of my readers are probably thinking…HA! You think you have it bad! Or Stop complaining, at least you have a family and children. Don’t get me wrong I do feel blessed for my family, I do love them, I’m just spent. I just want to sleep, to take a bath by myself, to actually have time to shave my legs in the shower, to lie in my bed without one of three different people requiring something from me.

I guess I’m just selfish, somewhere between laundry and bedtime stories, I’ve lost myself.

I remember a time when I could look in the mirror and had time to pluck a stray eyebrow. I remember a time when the thought of going shopping wasn’t something that sent anxiety through my entire being. I remember a time when the phone rang I actually felt excited about answering it and having a wonderful uninterrupted conversation with a friend, but times have changed.

Now I don’t even look in the mirror, and when I do it’s followed by a feeling of loss as I evaluate my stretch marks and scars. I look at my tattoo that once represented my freedom and now can only be described as a bug that has been smeared on a windshield. (For anyone out there who hasn’t yet had children, even if your DR tells you that you can’t have kids, NEVER get a tattoo on your stomach!)

Most of all I remember a time when I smiled regularly, when I woke up excited about my day and the activities that I had planned, I remember going on vacation and not worrying about the one’s I left behind for the week. Now I wish I could go on vacation, but the thought of all the work that would have to be done in order to arrange childcare, dog care, house care, etc etc…well it’s not even worth it.

So what do I do, besides whine to my computer screen, praying someone will validate these feelings…begging “does ANYONE understand?”

I guess I do what I always do…I breathe, I force a smile, I pray….and I repeat, over and over and over, because sometimes that’s all I can do.

Now I would love to finish this but my baby has filled her diaper once again, I’m laughing at myself now because I’m actually excited about this, only a mom who has experienced a constipated baby will understand my joy at this moment in time.