Many of us have watched her, she sits down, hair washed and done, makeup on, trendy clothes, sitting in an immaculate kitchen or large, stocked pantry, or at a gorgeous dining set. Or the gals that like to make videos in their car, they like to look “messy” or “undone” but their highlights are flawless, their car is clean. We laugh because they’re “so relatable” as they go on about the trials of motherhood. They’re tired because they’ve been driving their children around to various activities, making them food, cleaning, etc. They talk and laugh about errant husbands, judgey moms, ignorant strangers, disobedient children. Their intent is to give mom’s a lighthearted “atta girl”. “You’ve got this!” “This too shall pass.” They’re on our side. They’re rooting for us. But I’m calling bull. Not at their intent, but their “relatability”. Show me the kitchen floor that hasn’t been properly mopped in weeks, months, okay, years! Show me their IKEA dining set that barely fits in the kitchen, let alone makes their husband look like he’s at a toddler tea party. Show me the piles of laundry, the dirty pile and the clean pile. Show me the rum and Diet Coke at the end of the day, not the classy bottles of wine. Show me the antidepressants, the gross ignored upstairs bathroom because it's hard enough to keep the downstairs clean. Show me the thousands of candids taken on the phone because professional photos aren't in the budget. There's a reason we don't see these pictures, they're embarrassing. I don't want to show those parts of my life as much as the next mom. We want to take pictures of ourselves when we've gotten our hair done and our makeup is on. We don't want to see the bags under our eyes, why would we want to advertise them?! I get caught up in wanting to show only the best of myself and my life, but sometimes I don't feel like there's anything to show. No "squad" pics with all my besties. No selfies with my husband on our many dates. No birthday party pics in Vegas or Cancun. No fancy cocktails in an even fancier glass. Yes, this is a bit of a rant, a bit of a pity party, and a bit of me beating myself up because I know that I should be appreciative of everything I do have, not bitching about what I don't. No, there's a reason we don't see those pictures, because it's embarrassing. Personally, I scroll past these videos. I’m not a fan of any of them, really, or their “truths”. These are not my truths. Wishing to be an example of change, I try and show my happiness with my mess. Smiling children on a dirty floor. Toys EVERYWHERE. Dishes piled in the sink. I wish I saw more moms with no makeup on, wearing the yoga pants and T-shirt that they slept in. More moms with uncleared, little to no counter space in their tiny kitchens. That is my real life and I know I can’t be the only one. Finally, my wish isn’t to say that these moms are irrelevant or doing something wrong, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying the videos. My hope is that I can represent and encourage different moms at different seasons in their life. Moms with dirty hair and dirty floors. Messy houses and maybe messy lives. My goal is to be truthful in my appearance and not gussy it up for the camera. There’s nothing wrong with doing hair and makeup and taking evidence that it actually happened, but don’t feel bad if your selfie is less put together and more a cry for help - for a stylist 😂
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Thanksgiving week started with me thinking I had a cold that may have progressed to the flu. Then I felt okay and was able to participate in the festivities. Friday I woke up with one boob tender but I figured it was just bruised. I dragged myself out of the house long enough to give myself a long overdue haircut and color, only to narrowly avoid passing out as the stylist took “after” pics of my hair. That night I came to the conclusion that I had the dreaded mastitis when I started alternating chills and then fever and noticed redness snaking it’s way across my left breast.
Ten years of parenting, four kids, and 43 months of nursing and this is my first go-round with this horrible affliction. I’d heard about it and how it was bad, but now I know the truth. It SUCKS! I rarely ever get sick and I never run a fever, but I will unashamedly admit that mastitis kicked my butt. Of course I googled my symptoms to make sure I was correct in my assumptions and to plan my next course of action. One site mentioned to let it run its course and it would go away, but seek medical attention if it gets worse after 24 hours. Awesome, I had some ibuprofen, I would just ride this out and be fine by Monday. Bahahaha!!! By the next morning it was definitely worse and at my husband’s insistence, I agreed to go to urgent care, but attempting to dress myself wore me out and I never even got on the leggings that I had dug out before I was back on the couch and passed out. Have I mentioned that while this is going on my phone is blowing up with text messages and FB notifications from concerned friends and family because I may have mentioned what I was suffering from on my timeline and then neglected to reply to anyone until a few hours later when I woke up to my husband forcefully putting on my leggings and informing me that my sister-in-law was on her way to take me to urgent care. What?! I was just taking a nap! Don’t they always say to get rest when you’re sick? Fast forward to urgent care waiting room, being shushed by the front desk for talking too loud, confirmation of self diagnosis, and back home to ride out another wave of fever and chills until the antibiotics kicked in. In hindsight, I can see that my early “flu” was only the beginning of the infection and yesterday after a majority of my pain had left I could feel where I did, in fact, have a clogged duct. The source of all this pain. The irony of all of this is that breastfeeding is what we’re naturally supposed to do in order to feed our young, and yet here my body is PUNISHING me for allowing my breasts to do the very purpose for which they were intended! Mother Nature is truly a b!tch. |
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