I Am a Rockin' Mom! Again!

I have something like a thousand and one photos (and their accompanying stories) to post, and I think I will be able to get to them. But right now I need to journal some things I'm feeling.

Today was a really rough day.

We have this blog to record things, because I know very well that if I don't record them here they will disappear into oblivion. However, I still struggle sometimes to write everything is in my heart because there are things that I'm not sure are okay to write out for the public eye. Not that our blog is that public - but for our kids it kind of is, because mostly it's our close family and friends that read it. We've tried to make it that way. I know very well that I need that little extra push of family and friends expecting to be able to get little updates here in order to be good at keeping a record of our life. I also know that we live in a day where we are realizing that everything we used to think needed to be kept private, is actually dealt with a little better when we talk about it and get support from people. I know this from my own experience growing up. At the same time, I do have a hard time knowing just where to draw that line, especially with the blog because I don't always know just who is reading it. But I know very well that even if I do go write it down somewhere else because I am afraid to put it on the blog - it will eventually get lost, forgotten or tossed. That is a fact that I cannot deny. That is how things work for me. I never know which struggles I am having will be important for my posterity and/or family/friends to know about either so that they can help, or so that they can learn from my experience. Besides that sometimes I desperately need others' help, but I don't know who to turn to for help because I don't know who's had similar experiences. And now I'm rambling....

Anyway, today's struggle is a myriad of things piled on top of one another, each of which have their own little elements that make me wonder what I can write out in a blog post, and what I should not write here. So, to whoever is reading this now and in the future - sorry if I totally messed up and wrote something I really shouldn't have. I am doing my very best here!

We'll start with the last little lead-up to today's breaking point. We were at the library with a small group. We were in a big room, and it smelled like pee. To make a long story short it took me quite a while to realize that the cause of the smell was my own son. And either he had no idea, or he was too afraid to tell me. After making this realization we quickly left and got in the car. Upon getting buckled into the car I realized that this particular son had not simply wet his pants a little, as is the usual thing we are rather used. No. His pants were soaked all the way to his ankles. This also is not the type of situation where he just had a little/big accident that happens in a matter of seconds. No, that is the type of accident where you find a child with a little pool under their shoes. This type of situation is where there is a number of small accidents over a period of time so that the pee has time to soak slowly further and further into the pants until it finally reaches the hem. I have worked really hard on letting him know that I am not mad at him when this happens, but am just frustrated because I don't know how to change it or what the cause is. Yet I still can't quite tell for sure whether he's just clueless or afraid. The breaking point came when, after praying for help and guidance, I ended up calling the pediatrician to ask to have a urinalysis done WHILE he's having this issue to determine once and for all whether this can possibly simply be recurring UTI's. The pediatrician was unavailable, but the nurse left a message for her. A few hours later I received the anxiously awaited return call from the nurse who told me that she had authorized the urinalysis, but that I should know that bedwetting at 4 years old was normal. WHAT????? Now that it has been a few hours since this happened, I'm able to look back and recognize that probably there were some messages going back and forth and somewhere along the way things got mixed up. But sometimes when I am fighting so hard for my son, and people don't always take me very seriously about the issues we're having, I get extremely fiesty.

And when I get fiesty I start thinking these thoughts: I studied child development, I have worked with hundreds of kids. I know what is normal thank you very much. I know very well that bedwetting at 4 years old is completely normal. I am calling you out of desperation because I have tried everything under the sun to help my son. And I know very well that daytime wetting on a regular basis, in a child who is desperately trying to stay dry and who has previously achieved full potty training is NOT NORMAL!!! And while we're at it I also know what is normal for kids as far as sleep habits. And only sleeping 10 hours in a 24 hour period in a 6-month-old baby is not normal. And my husband and I had to figure out the solution to that problem on our own after over 18 months of REAL sleep deprivation NO THANKS to the medical professionals who kept telling us that sleep issues are not uncommon and we need to put our child down tired but awake, and it's okay to let them cry, blah blah blah blah blah! Oh, and let's not just make this about one child huh? How about the time you told me I really needed to go to the ER and spend two weeks in the PICU only to discover it was simply reflux, when I kept saying "NO! I know in my gut that this is not that big of a deal, that there is a simple reason for this. I don't know what it is, but I do know that he's okay."

Yes, I get a little fiesty. Or maybe a lot fiesty. But the real issue is that while I'm a really fiesty person inside my head, I also recognize that the people I'm talking to are people. Human. And I care about humans. I care a lot. Too much sometimes. Particularly with people I know I have to keep a relationship up with. So I don't fight for what I need. I politely accept what they're saying because I don't know how to cool off the things I'm feeling to convey what I need in a polite manner. Today, I did okay I guess. I politely told the nurse that this was not a bedwetting issue. That this is a daytime issue, and that he has been potty-trained off and on for 2 years. That I really don't think this is a behavior issue (which I'm convinced of 90% of the time, until my son randomly tells me that he can control it and he's just being lazy - but even that doesn't totally make sense because there really are times where he has NO IDEA that he is wet or needed to go potty and I KNOW it). So she questioned me about a few other things and said something along the lines of "well, whatever, she gave you the authorization so what do I care."

Then for a little while the overwhelmingness of this issue, on top of a bunch of other stresses that have built on me over the last couple weeks, buried me under a mountain of "am I ever going to get through this." Which led me to doing things like not making the really simple healthy dinner I had planned, letting the kids have extra screen-time (which inevitably leads to more wet underwear and fighting), and lying on the couch browsing social media nothingness for too long. Which leads to me waiting impatiently for my wonderful husband to come home and save the day. Except that he feels the same stress that I do about it oftentimes and doesn't always respond in superhero fashion. WHAT? Oh, right, he's human too! And so he came home and we dealt with it in our typical fashion when both of us are stressed. Throw together a quick not-so-healthy meal (or spend extra money we shouldn't be spending on a not-so-healthy-fast-food-meal), get the kids to bed as quickly as possible, and talk about it until we realize there isn't a quick solution and go to sleep grouchy, hoping in the morning we'll feel better.

Except tonight. Tonight, we had that not-so-healthy meal, where we did manage to avoid spending extra money by pulling out some boxed mac-and-cheese (which I hate) that I finally decided I was okay with buying to avoid our eating out on these types of nights issue. But then I rushed off to my Learning Circle where we talked about our expectations of ourselves as mothers. And I realized something. Whenever I don't live up to my personal expectations of myself as a mom I say something like this to myself: "You're doing it. AGAIN!" As in, "You're not asserting yourself. AGAIN!", "You're being lazy and not making dinner. AGAIN!", "You're laying on the couch wasting time. AGAIN!", "You're letting the kids watch too much tv. AGAIN!". And do you know what I realized? I am a great, fantastic, wonderful mom. I am. Period.

Yes, I fail at fulfilling my expectations of myself as a mother. Again, Again and Again. But I also get up, dust myself off, and try again. Again, Again and Again. At least I have expectations of myself. At least I try to make a good, healthy meal for my family. I even like to do it most of the time. I try hard not to let computer/internet/tv interfere with developing healthy relationships within my family. I try hard to do quality, meaningful things with my kids on a daily basis. I teach them and play with them a lot. I develop my own skills so that they can see me as my own person. I let them play without me interfering so that they can develop those imaginations and learn to fight their own battles. I am patient and kind often. I say sorry when I yell or lash out. I hug and kiss and tell my kids I love them often, throughout every day. I get down on their level to explain things. We talk about things that happen in life, and how to work through them. I teach them about my values and what's important to me. I listen and try to understand them. I love their dad, and show them and teach them about how our love is so important, that it is the foundation of our family. I teach them that it's okay to make mistakes, even big ones - that both daddy and I have made some really big mistakes. But we can forgive each other, and we can do better. I teach them that it doesn't matter how many times we've made a mistake before, it doesn't determine what we will do next time. What determines next time is how we prepare ourselves for next time we have the choice. And THIS is what makes me a great mom! Yes, tonight I made some mistakes. Again. The same mistakes I've made before. Someday I hope to be perfect. But right now, I can just keep learning what I need to in order to do better next time. I might only get a teeny-tiny bit better next time. But I will try again. Again, again and again.

So, "AGAIN!" You - the word "again" - will haunt me no more, but will be my happy companion forevermore!