Anger Out Loud

Anger Out Loud

I go from mother to monster in just two seconds.

“Stop that!!!” The words spill from my mouth in an animal-like growl, too loud and too ferocious to ignore.

My almost three-year-old looks at me, stunned, and tears immediately crowd the corners of his eyes.

But it’s too late. Words keep spilling from me, just a few more shouts. “I SAID STOP THREE TIMES ALREADY!”

“Okay Mommy,” he whimpers, his lower lip actually trembling.

Immediately regret slams into my chest. Shame quickly follows, settling right there by my lungs, ready to stay with me for the rest of the day.

“I’m sorry for yelling,” I say right away. “Mama shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry.”

I can see from the look on his face that the damage is done, that there’s no going back, that there’s no rewinding time. I give him a hug, pat his back, apologize again.

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What’s in a Name?

What’s in a Name?


            I knew my son’s name halfway through the pregnancy. I felt the little butterfly-like fluttering of his movements within me for the first time during our trip to Ireland, and that’s about when Rob and I decided on the name.

It was very uncomfortable traveling halfway across the world at 22 weeks pregnant, but I hadn’t anticipated that when planning the baby-moon months earlier. On the eight hour plane ride, I needed to get up to pee at least six times. Once there, I slept horribly in the hotel room, as that’s when my legs started to cramp during the night and my hips ached from stretched ligaments. I plastered a smile on my face when we walked from museum to museum, but I couldn’t stop from complaining about my aching back and incessant need to find a coffee shop so I could pee yet again.

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I am a steward of my children.

I had that thought the other day, after listening to a podcast in which a mom shares the story of losing her son. It was a sad thing to listen to, and it had me pushing off tears with the back of one hand while the other balanced the stroller on my walk. It made me realize how much I take for granted, made me rethink my role yet again, made me reevaluate for the thousandth time.

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“This will just have to do for the October blog post cause I’ve run out of time”

“This will just have to do for the October blog post cause I’ve run out of time”

Motherhood is messy. That’s my grand conclusion after two and half years of doing this, and I doubt I’m breaking new ground here, but there it is. It’s messy.

Right now, in motherhood, I feel akin to a jumble of yarn that just won’t untangle. As I start to pull on one string, three other strings get stubbornly tighter. When I pull on another, four strings that were supposed to stay put come loose. I try to sort my emotions and thoughts out, but my brain is too scrambled to make sense of things, because in my proverbial yarn world, all my strings are touching other strings which are tangled up in other strings. Messy.

The last few weeks have been harder than usual. It doesn’t help that we’ve traveled or that the boys and I have gotten sick and cranky—but it’s more than that. I have felt a deep restlessness in my spirit, a lack of peace, and a complete disenchantment with stay at home motherhood.

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August Reflection

August Reflection

I’d been waiting for George to start crawling for the whole summer. He was so close for so long—when anyone asked about him I’d say with practice, “yeah, almost crawling” and it seemed like that was my description of him for the entirety of July. So often Rob and I have exchanged looks when we’ve thought he might be starting. But today, he finally, finally, finally crawled. Officially.

I don’t know if this is just me, but whenever one of my boys reaches a milestone, I get this intense squeezing feeling inside of my chest. It’s like a firework going off inside my heart, an explosion of emotions that feels almost too much. It’s so emotional that it feels physical, tactile.

It’s a mix of admiration, pride, happiness, excitement, sadness, and tenderness, all at once. It’s a lot.

Do other parents feel this way? That when your child crosses that threshold, all your emotions are going to cave in and you might possibly implode? Is it weird that I feel this way? Or boring and normal?

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