Enough!

I've never been a big "losing my temper" kind of girl. I usually internalize my anger, and it bubbles up as anxiety or depression later. Before I had E, I distinctly remember a few times when I got so angry that I threw something or punched a pillow. My anger would come on fast, like a bubble at the bottom of a pool, quickly rising to the top. Once there, I had my outburst, cried for awhile, then moved on. It was usually triggered by having to deal with 3+ issues at once. If money was a problem, I was late for work, I remembered that I had a doctor's appointment, and say, I spilled a glass of milk on the floor.

So, I worried about how I'd handle motherhood. Essentially, you're operating with 3+ triggers all the time. Money's almost always a problem. I'm always late for something. There's always a doctor's appointment looming, and there's milk everywhere. And what's worse is that there's a little person running around you, watching you, waiting to see how you'll react -- a little person who actually tries to trigger reactions and make you fly off the handle.

But, I'm different. Somehow. My anger moves more like the wax blobs inside a lava lamp. It doesn't quite sneak up on me like it used to. Still, there are a few things that have made me want to throw my metaphorical lava lamp at the wall, that caused me to have that "Enough!!," "pull-the-car-over," "oh-my-sweet-Lord," "somebody-help-me" moment. They were:

• E's repeated pterodactyl screams in the car
• E staying up until 4am wanting to 'pway wit doggie'
• Mark not taking the trash/recycleables out after I asked 5+ times over the course of 2 weeks.

And even in those moments, I caught myself before the lava lamp bubble rose too high. I took my anger out on myself. I punched my legs or slapped myself in the face, screamed into a pillow, or made Mark get me some cookies to angrily eat. All totally normal, reasonable reactions, I think.

My only regret in those maybe 5+ moments over the last year was that I couldn't see the big picture. I have to forgive myself for it, because I'm a generally short-sighted, in-the-moment person anyway, and I'm learning, but if I had only known -- that these little parenting challenges are such a small part of this amazing journey I'm on.

Today, I came out of the bathroom, and E greeted me like I had returned from a 2-week vacation. She threw her arms around my legs, hugged me, then said, "Mama, pick up!?" "Always!" I said, as I scooped her into my arms. She played with my hair, smiled at me, then smushed her face right up against mine, nose-to-nose and said, "Ahhhh!!!" in a "Got you, Mama!" way.

And I will never get enough of that!

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What Are You Doing?/I Didn't Call You

Doggy Birthday Party!

Let's see if I can work 2 blog prompts into 1 post! That'll cover my weekend!

On Saturday, we went to a birthday party for a dog. So, that's what I was doing. Yup. Our local toy shop is run by a sweet older couple who have a dog, Isabelle (Izzy). E absolutely loves that dog. Any time I have to stop in for a birthday gift, she spends most of her time kissing and hugging her. The last time we were there, the owner told us about the birthday party, and I thought it sounded like a good event for us all.

Kim (Auntie Bee), of Pugs and Pics, joined us as she would never miss out on a dog birthday party, and we hadn't seen her in weeks. We got our faces painted -- flowers for the girls, and a pirate's eye patch for Mark. Later he tried to wash it off which resulted in his entire face turning black. He was the whitest black guy I'd ever seen.

There were also balloon dogs, a collar-making station, goodie bags, and a scavenger hunt. Outside we ate hot dogs, chips, and drank lemonade. It was very low-key and perfect for her age.

We brought E home for a nap, and Bee and I went out shopping, or "browsing" as I call it (until payday comes), though I did have some good finds at Goodwill.

When we got home, we took E to the Malt Shop for dinner and ice cream. Kim took a sexy pic of me nibbling on a sweet potato fry. She texted it my mobile number. Then she realized that the mobile number for me in her contact list was actually a really old number, and someone else received this gem of an image.

Oh, hello!

Not only had this person never called me, they had no idea who I was, well, that is, other than someone who really likes sweet potato fries. They quickly wrote back, "Wrong number." The fact that they actually took the time to write back is pretty impressive, I think. They obviously wanted to make sure that they didn't get the next image in the series.

We all laughed, ate some mango sorbet for dessert. Then we took E to the park. Even though it was late, I had promised her. She loved it, and it was nice to be out in the cool, late-summer evening, just before sunset.

The moon was rising above the mountains, and E was so interested in it. She had been rock collecting and was holding a particularly round rock in her hand. As she jumped and stretched to reach the moon, I told her not to worry, that some day she'd be able to reach it. I picked her up to help.

Then I told her how big the moon was, about 1/4th the size of Earth, but from here it looked much smaller. I took the round rock out of her hand and held it up to block out the moon. She took it back from me and did the same thing. I gave her a big kiss on the cheek and took her home to put her to bed.

It was a good day.

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Am I in the Wrong Place?

Bloggy Moms' Blog Dare -- Am I in the Wrong Place?

I've asked myself this question a million times -- in the wrong relationships, in the wrong college courses, in the wrong city.

I'm blessed to have a happy marriage and a husband who has stuck by his vows and who has proven over and over again that he will put up with absolutely anything, with an undying loyalty like nothing I've ever experienced. Still, when he lets recycleables pile up or refuses to take out the trash, I ask myself, "Is he the one for me?" I'm laughing out loud as I write this, because 1. It's true, and 2. It's absolutely ridiculous.

The only place I don't question is the empty space by my daughter's side, the space that I so perfectly fit into.

In this space, I have suffered physical, emotional, and verbal abuse, which ebbed and flowed as I attempted to correct it.

In this space, I have waited through time-outs and temper tantrums. I've been hit in the face with a plastic ball, a flip-flop, green beans.

In this space, I have been thrown up on, pooped on. (One second, I'm gagging a bit here.)

Yesterday, in this space, while I made lasagna for dinner, she stood beside me and screamed at the top of her lungs over and over... and over again for a full 5 minutes.

Yet, this question did not once cross my mind: "Am I in the wrong place?"

In this space, I have concluded time-outs with gentle words, read bedtime stories, dried tears, wiped a runny nose, received hugs and kisses, and laughed until my sides hurt. I've heard the words "I love you" for the first time, and "Mommy."

I so rightfully belong in this place, anchored to this spot.

Why Did I Let it Weigh Me Down?

Bloggy Moms' Blog Dare -- Why Did I Let It Weigh Me Down?

I was surprised that running ended up being more of an emotional accomplishment than a physical one. My anxiety/depression is a weight and a voice. It tells me that I’m not good enough, that I won’t be able to prevent things that are… inevitable anyway. It tells me that I’m awkward, goofy, ugly, strange; and every day is a battle to fight against that weight.

The first day I started running, I ran about 30 seconds, felt miserable, and told myself: “You’re too old, you sat too much during your pregnancy, you don’t eat well, you don’t drink enough water. You can’t do this.”

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Then, the next day I ran for 45 seconds and repeated my negative thought process. In that moment, I felt sad, defeated.

But this time, I reacted differently. Every day my daughter falls down. I pick her up. She cries, “Ellie fell down!” and I say, “I’m so sorry, let’s get up!” I tell her, “You can’t eat cookies for breakfast, but you can have fruit.” I tell her, “You can’t play with a steak knife, but we can pretend to cook with your kitchen set.”

So, could it be that I’m even better prepared to deal with my own whining? I found myself responding to my own ridiculous complaints:

“I’m ugly and awkward.” – “Maybe, sure, but can you change it? No. Move on.”
“I’m old.” – “There are people who started training older than you.”
“I sat too much during my pregnancy.” – “You had a lot of anxiety, it’s okay.”
“I don’t always eat well.” – “A good reason to start running and eating better. Just do your best.”
“I don’t drink enough.” – “Drink more water tomorrow.”

And I did! I did all of those things. Also, the first day, I ran in a more public place. I felt like everyone was watching me. I was so uncomfortable. So, the next day, I ran down the main street in town – fewer people on the sidewalk, but more traffic on the main road – so I didn’t feel completely isolated if I, say, collapsed from exhaustion and needed a senior citizen to let me push their Life Alert button.

It took about a week to overcome my fear of exercising in public, but now it seems completely natural. Then the physical stuff was even easier to overcome – once I found a decent sports bra. You’d be surprised what that can do for your balance and confidence – when your boobs aren’t smacking other runners in the face as you fly by! Each day, I ran further and felt better. Now I can run up to 2 minutes at a time for 4 sessions! 8 whole minutes! It’s also getting easier to go beyond those 2 minutes, so I know that soon I’ll be able to do a full mile non-stop.

I’m also motivated by the fact that I’ve kept this up now for 3 months. That’s a big accomplishment for me, and I should celebrate it… [[dream sequence]] by eating steak and garlic mashed potatoes, buttered carrots, chocolate cake, and a fruit & cheese platter (happy sigh). And I can actually eat that – guilt free!

I also find that I can chase my daughter around – really chase her. Every day she gets faster on her little legs, and I don’t have to struggle to keep up with her.

The other day, traffic was stopped, waiting for me, and I had to run across an intersection. When I got to the other side, I felt confident, was breathing normally, and didn’t pray to the heavens, “Take me now, please, merciful God!” And when E ran off to the park, I was able to catch up with her and race to the swing-set.

Now to take this "Why did I let it weigh me down?" moment and apply it to other areas of my life! Here's to striving for "better," to believing in myself!