Everything in life has felt a little heavy lately. I was down and out with pneumonia last week and found myself watching the news a lot. There is a lot of bad stuff going on in the world. A school shooting that was a little too close to home. I considered writing about my thoughts on some of the bad stuff. But decided to stick with something lighter for today. Because I think we could all use a little pick me up.
So here goes.
I woke up one day last week and walked downstairs. I turned on the living room lamp and something looked a little off.
I wrote the title for this post when I was about nine months pregnant with my second baby boy – who is now six months old. I was so tired that all I got to was the title. I think I then fell into a deep sleep with my computer next to me.
I was looking through my drafts and realized how many moms would relate to this one.
How many times do we sigh after our three year old has had an epic tantrum because you gave him the blue cup instead of the red cup and say to ourselves, “OMG, I really need a break before I go crazy.”
If you visit my home unexpectedly, be prepared to be shocked and possibly disgusted.
I have a three and a half year-old little boy, a six month-old, and a 75-pound black lab.
Disclaimer: I also have a husband named Logan but he does not usually cause people to be shocked and disgusted so I’m leaving him out of this one.
When you ring the doorbell, you will most likely be greeted by me. I will be wearing a pair of leggings and an over sized sweatshirt that has spit up on it. My hair will be in a top knot and I will not have a stitch of makeup on.
I do not keep it a secret that I suffered from Postpartum Depression after the birth of my first son Henry, who is now three years old. I fell into a deep black hole of anger and worthlessness a week or so after I gave birth. And it took me far too long to accept help. People wanted to help, but I didn’t think I needed it. I spent too many hours laying in a dark room crying before I convinced myself this wasn’t just the “baby blues” I was told to expect.
This went against every ounce of what I thought traditional motherhood looked like.
Today is the day. The first day of the Holiday Hangover.
You know, the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day. The week where you sit in the aftermath of mountains of toys, wondering how the hell you gained ten pounds in four days and if there is anymore fudge left in that tin in the kitchen.
There is always such a build up. This year, it seemed like the Christmas trees were up the day after Halloween.
DID YOU FORGET ABOUT THANKSGIVING, CORPORATE AMERICA?
Let’s look at the three phases that lead to the Holiday Hangover.
The “I Love Christmas Music” Phase: This starts soon after Thanksgiving.
As a 33-year-old woman living in Kentucky, that has always seemed like a very dirty word to me. Any time it is brought up in a conversation, it is always in a negative context. It was a word that made me shudder and think “gross.”
To me it came across as an overly aggressive, angry, uptight, man-hating woman.
Now, don’t stop reading. Hear me out.
I have never looked up the definition of feminism. I haven’t studied it. I haven’t had a conversation based solely on feminism. It just wasn’t a topic that I thought about a lot.
To be honest, I didn’t want to learn about feminism because to me it was unappealing and foul.
Being the mom to an infant and a toddler really has me pulling my hair out lately. I spend a lot of time on my blog sharing the ugly – the poop, tantrums and sleepless nights.
Sometimes I have to reel my emotions in and remind myself of how freaking lucky I am.
I have an adorable, healthy three year old. I have a sweet, beautiful three month old. I have a loving husband, a dog, a home, a good job and I am healthy. I have a car and health insurance and friends and food and faith.
Let’s get real today. I write a parenting blog. But I wouldn’t exactly call it a REAL parenting blog.
When I look at REAL parenting blogs, they include content that someone might find useful when raising their child, such as potty training how-to’s or the best way to diffuse a tantrum. Maybe how to do baby-led weaning.
But I can’t write about those topics! Why not? I am completely unqualified.
I am raising my children on a wish, a prayer, caffeine and wine.
I still can’t get my three and a half year old, Henry, to poop in the potty. And i’m not looking for anymore advice on that one people!