Monday, July 31, 2017

snap back to reality

your palms are sweaty, knees week, arms are heavy. there's vomit on your sweate-

okay. [SPOILER ALERT] this isn't the beginning of the story of how i became an international rap superstar. but rather, it's the story of how social anxiety can consume your life, and make you feel like a prisoner in your own body.


i want to be clear that i'm self-diagnosed. i've never talked to a professional about it, and i don't know if i ever will. my social anxiety comes in waves, and i'm able to function pretty normally most of the time. i can go to the store (but would rather go alone) and can go out to restaurants, the local farmer's market, and places like that with ease. i'm guessing that's because i don't have to actually interact with a bunch of people when i'm out because there is a large crowd there as well...but that's just a guess. there are groups of people that have known me for so long that i feel safe with them, and i'm thankful for their friendships and their understanding that there will be times where i have to leave the room and just be alone for a bit. and there's ryan, this incredible person who gets absolutely giddy when he's planning on entertaining or socializing with groups of people, who squeezes my hand and lets me do whatever i feel like i need to.

but for me, going somewhere where i'll be expected to conduct small talk, interact on a personal level, or have to feel like i need to be "on" becomes this personal hell. i've missed out on things like weekly coffee dates, church, girls' nights, and parties. sometimes it's just my mind that makes me feel this way, gives in to self-doubt and the belief that people inherently do not like me--and it stops there. and then there are the times where it continues to manifest physically, and i find myself unable to sleep, nauseous, and with a tightness in my chest that is so crushing that it makes me feel like i may die.

and i'm not saying that to be dramatic. that time, which can last anywhere from an hour to days, is torture--and i'm just consumed by it. one of the hardest things is KNOWING that it's irrational...but it doesn't feel that way.


i try coping by using different methods. sometimes i volunteer for tasks so that i am "forced" to commit and follow through because i'd be letting others down if i backed out. other times i pay for the activity, and since it would be a poor decision to waste the money, i go. and you know, i almost always have an incredible time when i DO go. i usually come back from whatever activity or interaction it is feeling drained, but really good.

but then there are the times that an event that i paid AND volunteered for, one that i've written on the calendar and looked forward to for weeks ends up causing so much anxiety that i just can't do it. that the thought of it literally makes me sick, with tear-filled eyes, and an elephant on my chest.

and then i make the call not to go. and almost instantly the weight is gone and i feel free.


i don't know what this all means. i probably should talk to someone, someone professional with a fancy diploma and certifications hanging in their office. and i may, one day.

Saturday, April 8, 2017

major 'tude

I have had the WORST attitude today. It started by being woke up by a whining child, and subsequently being snippy with everyone who managed to get in my path today. There was no one who was safe from my wrath.

The kids weren't especially bad today. Besides a couple legitimate times when discipline was needed, they were great. But it was a long day after a long week (and my sweet, sweet husband has been stuck at the office for the past 10 hours today and counting). There was a park birthday party on the windiest day on earth that was supposed to be 2 hours but we left after 3, where Tallulah fell and busted her lip and bloodied her nose. I shampooed carpets and (unsuccessfully) tried to get the house in order before her birthday party tomorrow, and after ordering my dirt-covered children to the bathtub found that the ball handle on the bath tub was broken.


I'm not sure what's the worse feeling- being in a bad mood OR knowing that you're acting like a fool because of your bad mood and getting even more upset by it. So I got the boys showered and in bed, and apologized for being frustrated with them today, because I knew it was frustrating for them as well.

And now I'm listening to Harry Potter on Audible from their bedroom while trying to tackle the broken bathtub handle, and I am so thankful for tomorrows, for the fresh start we get every single day. .

Thursday, March 30, 2017

boxes and stuff

We recently moved from a great house that backed up to the boys' school to another great house that is just a couple miles away from their school. We lucked into both houses (one being owned by a dear friend and the other just sort of fell into our laps). We have a little more space to stretch out, and it'll be a good fit for our family for a while. It's pretty and recently remodeled. It's in a quiet neighborhood, full of families, and the boys' love that they get more freedom of where they can play.

But you guys. I can't deal with anymore boxes. There are boxes stacked up in the den, the playroom, our bedroom, and don't get me started on the garage. Everything is about cleared out from the other house, save from a few things I need to grab today and some trash gathering. We started packing up our house in the beginning of March, with boxes lining the walls in preparation of the move.

We have so, so much stuff. We have so much stuff AFTER donating ten plus garbage bags of clothes. We have so much stuff after tossing, donating, or selling toys and household items. We have two (or is it three?) boxes filled with "junk drawer" stuff...and we don't have a junk drawer at the new space. We have boxes full of things I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW WE STILL OWNED, that had been shoved into a box during one move or another.

There's approximately 470 things to do to be done...and just a week and half before Tallulah's birthday party at our house.

So don't mind me. I'll just be over here huddled in a heap on the couch ignoring it all so it can just go away.

Wednesday, March 29, 2017

The Babysitter

We've all watched the insanely adorable videos on social media that show shenanigans of what happens when Dad babysits the kids.

Y'all. It pisses me off to no end. The videos are cute, but they're wrong. Dads don't babysit their own kids. Dads parent their children. They spend time with their children. They play with their children. Equating them to a job that a high school girl does on the weekends devalues their role as a parent.

Ryan is an excellent parent. He cares for two step-sons and a daughter, without instruction from me regarding their care. He speaks to them like their equals while still maintaining authority over them. He takes interest in their hobbies and activities, and introduces them to new things. He makes sure that they make cards for me- Valentine's, Mother's Day, my birthday. He plays board games. He helps them with homework. He shoos me out of the house, and then does the daily routine with them (that we normally share). He takes them to the doctor, cleans up after sick kids, and wakes up early on the weekends with them. He cooks them meals, puts bandaids on scrapes, and folds their laundry.

Ryan is a Dad. He's not the babysitter. And I have so much to learn from him.

Thursday, January 19, 2017

the one where we ruin textiles

Over six years ago I purchased a couch. It had clean lines and was comfy. It came with tons of pillows and was just beautiful.

And it was barely off-white.

Do you know what moving does to an off-white couch? Do you know what a husband who has a tendency to spill his coffee does to an off-white couch? DO YOU KNOW WHAT CHILDREN DO TO AN OFF-WHITE COUCH?

It quickly becomes less off-white and more of a dirty wanna-be beige.

But I wasn't worried. I scoured Pinterest and decided that I would just dye the couch a new color. I WOULD JUST DYE IT A NEW COLOR.

I followed the directions explicitly, and decided to just dye the seat cushions first. And it went great! The color was like a foresty/bluish green color. The stains were being covered! Everything was perfect. Until it dried. And then the dye somehow disappeared. Except for the areas that were previously stained were now foresty/bluish green stains.

So then we got a slipcover. A horrible, cheap slipcover that didn't really fit the couch and got saggy after anyone breathed on the couch. A slipcover that made Ryan so irrationally angry at a polyester blend that one day it was ripped from the couch and a blanket was just sort of folded on the cushions.

At the same time, we got a kitten. Or found it in our garage and Ryan begrudgingly let us keep it. A kitten who decided that the pleather love seat that we had was the perfect scratching post despite being squired with water whenever she got near it.



We got a new couch. It's beautiful, kind, and sometimes I let the kids sit on it.

Friday, June 17, 2016

the one where i'm exhausted.

I'm entering my fourth month as a SAHM, and I'm exhausted. 

Like, exhausted in ways that I never understood. I've been peed on. I've broken up more fights than I thought possible. Did you know it was possible to argue about cereal?


I've killed countless fish. We rescued a kitten. I've nearly passed out blowing up a baby pool. I have said the phrase "I'm not a short order cook"...which just lead to a line of questioning that I didn't expect. I've folded laundry, swept, mopped, meal planned, kept an organized family appointments calendar, loaded the dishwasher, and consumed more pots of coffee than my kidneys appreciate.

I've snuggled, played Legos, read books, "mined" for minerals, ran through sprinklers, played endless board games, and watched one of them really ride a bike for the first time. I've made muffins, pies, and brought meals to friends. I've kissed ouchies, cheered, and given Magical Dream Spells every night that the boys are home.

I am exhausted. In a way I couldn't ever imagine.

And it's been the absolute best gift that Ryan has ever given me.

Saturday, April 30, 2016

the one where we got married

On March 20th, Ryan and I stood in front of our children, our families, and our friends to make our promises to each other. 

It was loud, messy, far from perfect but full of a lot of love...just like us. He is simply the best, and makes me feel like I'm the light of his world every single day. He makes me want to be a better person, and let's me be the best version of myself at the same time.

Marrying your best friend and throwing a party to celebrate it is pretty much the best. You should really do it.