Confessions of a not-so-super mom...

Dear Diary... I feel like I should start out that way because I am about to unload some things off my chest. Literally, since I am having 'chest pains' so bad that I cannot sleep. Which is something that I really should be doing since I am going on 8 months now without a good night's rest (last 6 weeks prego, plus the time since Ezra has been out of the womb, up every few hours). But, this is my personal blog, my chance to 'diary' the events of our family- mostly the dear sweet moments I want to remember forever, but anything goes, so here it is; the unload:

1. I feel terrible that I have not blogged in so long. I have been adding photos to my 'to blog' file for when I have a chance to sit down and blog, but the more time passed, the guiltier I felt about not updating with recent posts and the more I avoided it all together.

2. I have been 'sweating' the small stuff. You know the stage of life you are in when you have a full load of laundry that is only tu-tu's and bibs. And you know how tired you are when you don't think twice about washing them together. And then you find yourself near tears as you stand in your laundry room carefully ripping the insane bib-velcro/tu-tu tulle ball of laundry apart, trying not to ruin the darling skirts. Ugh.

3. Annie has been calling me "Mysea" a lot lately. She is a creative little one, with an amazing sense of humor... but for some reason I am taking it personal that she isn't calling me 'mommy.' She has also decided that she is 'four' not three. And that 'three isn't fun like one or two' so she is four until she can be sixteen. Which makes me feel panicky that she is growing up way too fast. I find myself panicking instead of enjoying way too often.

4. I want to be a perfect wife and mother. That doesn't seem so bad, right? Well I think it's that word 'perfect' that gets me into trouble. It seems like the harder I try, the further away from perfection I go. Let me give you an example. One that is really weighing heavy on my chest tonight...

This Saturday was Annie's first big dance recital. It was the sweetest thing ever. Really, really, REALLY cute. It was at 2:30 in the afternoon (right in the middle of nap time), so when Annie was awake at 5:45 am- nearly two hours earlier than normal, I knew the day was going to be a challenge. Since the last few hours of the night are when I get my best sleep (because Ezzy is getting his best sleep) I decided to give Annie a sippy of milk and a bowl of dry Cheerios to snack on while she watched the Yogi Bear movie in the living room. I laid next to her on the couch and rested with a sleeping Ezra in my arms. I should tell you that I was woken up about every 10 minutes by Annie to see the 'good part' that was on, but still felt refreshed when the movie was over. Then we got up and I made pancakes for Annie and I and fresh banana and oatmeal babyfood for Ezra. After breakfast I cleaned up the kitchen and did the dishes left from the night before. Then I finished editing some photos, burned a disc of digital negatives, took a shower, gave Annie a shower, walked the disc over to my neighbor and dropped of their tickets for Annie's recital. After that I made lemonade for Annie and I, put Ezra down for some tummy time while Annie and I did puzzles, sent some picture messages on the cell phone to family (which has replaced blogging, lately), and then made some lunch. The day was going really well so far. Really well, considering Ben was at work, which is rare for a Saturday, and I was on my own to get to the recital. Halfway through photographing the making of Ezra's homemade babyfood (peas and pears!) I had this sinking feeling that the day was going a little too well. But, I was trying to be 'super mom,' so I continued with the fresh babyfood while Annie enjoyed her ravioli and peas.

Ezra loved his babyfood-- he loves to eat, in general, so I wasn't surprised. I had the kids eat lunch a little earlier than normal, to see if I could sneak in a nap for Annie before her recital. I, again, could not believe my good luck when Annie happily laid down and took a nap a full hour and a half earlier than normal. This gave me a chance to wash a load of laundry, read to Ezra, nurse him, get him changed, and get everything set for getting Annie ready. I set up a little 'salon' in the kitchen- complete with a pedestal mirror on the counter for Annie to watch as I curled her hair. My luck continued as I was able to get Ezra down for his nap just in time to get Annie up and dolled up for her recital. I was really feeling like an excellent mother at this point. I had the diaper bag packed, both babies ready, and Annie looked adorable! Not that she doesn't all the time anyway, but mother's of three-year-olds can image how tricky it is to convince a toddler to sit still long enough to curl their hair. Her 'strawberry milk' (Trader Joe's strawberry yogurt drink) kept her busy for the first few minutes, but after that it was all mom tricks to keep us both safe from burns! Anyway, Annie was beautiful and I had everything all set to go.

Annie anxiously asked me (more than once on the twenty minute car ride) if I had remembered her wings. I had. I had remembered everything AND was not only on time for the half hour early call time, but I was even 5 minutes early. I loaded Ezzy and all our stuff into a stroller and then walked Annie to the backstage drop spot. I stayed with her for a little while and calmed her nerves and then went up front to meet Ben in the lobby. We had great seats and were there with some good friends and neighbors. Again, everything was going so well. Annie's group was first. She looked so tiny up on the huge stage. It was the most darling little performance- sixteen pretty little pink ballerinas all bumping into each other and looking so innocent and sweet that I wished I could freeze time and savor the moment a little longer.

Ben looked over at me and smiled. He told me she looked beautiful and that I was such a good mommy. I was thrilled. I wanted to reach behind and pat myself on the back for the great day. I enjoyed the rest of the performances with a huge smile on my face. And then it happened. The curtain closed and men in white shirts and ties stood up all over from the audience and walked up onto the stage. Ben looked around and then turned to me and asked what was going on. The curtain reopened and answered his question- a choreographed daddy/daughter dance. To make it even worse, it was to a song that Ben had recently told me reminded him of Annie. I could not believe this was happening. There was a daddy/daughter dance happening that I had somehow missed the sign-up for. I immediately starting apologizing to Ben- who played it cool and told me it was no biggie. But I could tell he desired to be up there dancing with his little ballerina. They dance together all the time at home, so this was right up his alley. I felt deflated. How is it that I messed this up? Was it the week that we skipped ballet because we were on vacation? Was it the time I dropped her off late for class? I felt awful about it all night. Ben told me to let it go. But I kept thinking that Annie would someday be watching the DVD of the recital and notice the finale with other girls from her group dancing with their dads and wonder why she wasn't a part of that. I felt like the opposite of super-mom. I felt like super-sucky-mom.

The evening was nice- we went out to eat with my good friend and her family (their little girl and Annie are in the same dance group) and then hung out with some neighbors for the rest of the evening. I continued to apologize to Ben for messing up the dance for him- and he continued to tell me it was no big deal.

5. I am making everything into a big deal lately. I think it's from the pressure of the big 3-0 that is looming in my near future. I should be happy about it. My mom reminded me of my blessings- awesome, supportive, and handsome husband, beautiful and fun kids, accomplishments in my career... home, good health... sooooo much to be celebrating. Which makes me feel even worse about feeling anxious about turning 30. Ugh. Grow up. ;o)

Back to Saturday evening... around 9pm Ben walked Annie, sleeping Ezzy, and I home from the neighbors. He went back to hang out a little longer and I tried to get some rest. Around 1 am I realized Ben wasn't home yet and I hadn't slept yet. Not good. This meant we would both be tired in the morning when the babies are at their perkiest! When I woke up the next morning I was happy to see that I had gotten to sleep in until 8:30. Then I sat up and felt the pain. I had pain in my chest and in my back directly behind my heart. I was scared to drink the coffee Ben brought me for fear of heart attack. I spent the morning trying to relax. First I watched a movie- 13 going on 30. Bad choice. There is a part in the movie in which the 30-year-old protagonist is homesick, so she takes a short train ride home to be with her parents. That night she snuggles by her mom to sleep. ...I cried. One, because I miss my mom and cannot take a lil' train to see her, and two, I don't want Annie to grow up and leave me. *Sob* After the movie Ben suggest we have a family karaoke party in the loft with the new CD he made. I was still downstairs when I hear him singing 'Landslide'.... children get older, I'm getting older, too... *SOB*

Around 3pm I decided that my chest pain was not getting any better and took myself to Urgent Care. After several tests, including EKG and chest x-rays the doctor tells me to lay-off caffeine (here is the part where you give me suggestions in sleep training Ezra so that I don't require so much coffee) and to visit my PCP soon. He prescribed a mega-ibuprofin for some 'inflamed tissue' condition that he thinks is the source of the pain. I asked if he ruled out heart-attack-- which he had already reassured me about, and then asked if it could be anxiety related. He asked if I had any major stress in my life right now. I told him I am turning 30 in one week. He smiled and said that couldn't be it. Really? Then why do I feel panicky every time I think about it? Well, I sure wish I would've spent the afternoon, and the copays, for that matter, at a spa instead of a dingy urgent care clinic... Oh well.

When I got home Ben asked what the diagnosis was. I told him 'broken heart' from messing up the daddy/daughter dance. He hugged me and was sweet to me, as usual.

My chest still really hurts (which is why I am up blogging, instead of sleeping) but I am pretty certain it is just anxiety. It seems silly, I know.... because, I know have it pretty good. The x-ray tech even pointed out how blessed I am to be able to be a stay-at-home mom in times that are forcing many moms back to work. When I think about all my blessings, it makes me feel worse about complaining at all. But, this isn't really a complaint. It is more of a confession. I am not a super-mom. (Obviously). And I think I try too hard to be one. And I do that because I want my children to have charmed little lives with lovely memories.

I realize that not every memory will be 'lovely' and that I will make more mistakes in parenting. I do hope, though, that in documenting this not-so-super memory that I will remember an important message for Annie and Ezra. ...Perfection stinks! Just kidding, that's not the message. I actually was thinking of an old song by DC Talk. It goes, "What if I stumble, what if I fall? What if I lose my steps and make fools of us all? Will the love continue when the walk becomes a crawl? What if I stumble, what if I fall?"... and later continues, "I hear You whispering my name, you say 'my love for you will never change'..." It is a beautiful song about Jesus' love for us- no matter what. Even when we make mistakes. Just like I always love Annie and Ezra 'no matter what.' I think the love that a parent has for their child is modeled from the intense love God has for us. It's so much bigger and stronger than 'in love.' It makes us want to be our best, and get it right- for their sake. So when we mess something up, it seems worse than normal.

And that is the point of this TMI-open-diary blog post. Not just to put it out there, in writing, that I know I am not perfect-- in hopes that maybe by saying it I can stop having anxiety about not achieving it ;0), but also to share my struggle with other parents. Maybe you feel 'not-so-super' sometimes. Maybe you have an easier time getting over it, and don't waste hundreds at your local Urgent Care for your 'chest pains.' Either way, we need to give ourselves a little slack. If I want Annie and Ezra to believe me when I tell them that I love them 'no matter what' and that I will always support them, then I need to model that 'forgiving' attitude towards myself.

Hopefully my lil' late night confession helps someone... Or at least entertains them. ;o)

It is 2:18 am now, so I'm clicking 'publish post' without editing this rant. Enjoy.