I QUIT (and you can, too)

The other day, I posted about how I went back to work after having the girls. It’s no secret that I was a proud stay at home mom. After 5 (really, REALLY long) years, I decided to go back to work. A lot of thought went in my choice, and it definitely wasn’t an easy one, but I made it, and it’s okay. And you can make it too if you want, and that’s also okay

I really feel like being a stay at home mom is such a strong, powerful move that so many people look either down on or up to, but there are few people in between. There are a lot of “oh I could never”s and “I could never afford that”s, a few “that’s the lazy way out”s and people looking at you like you have never done actual work in your life. When you make the choice to stay home, you suddenly have to defend your decision and you have something to prove, even if you didn’t WANT it to be that way. Naturally, making the decision to re-enter the workforce afterwards is hard and all, but at the same time, you have this feeling of inadequacy, like “I tried to mom. But couldn’t”.

Well, moms, I’m here to tell you that if you don’t want to stay home anymore, don’t, The kids will be okay, the house will be okay, things will get done. It’s hard, really hard, to manage working outside of the home and in it as well. Getting a job outside of the house doesn’t mean that you never have to bathe the kids or done epic dinner battle over veggies, it means you have to do both. BUT HERES THE CATCH: you don’t mind it as much. Bathe time dinner comes around, you have normally been whined at, fought with, clean up after, and listened to your ears bled for HOURS and well, when dinner comes around and they don’t want to eat broccoli, you either could care less or broccoli-board the kids. When you work outside the house, you miss the little loops ad you are excited to see them, talk about heir day, and can calmly deal with the broccoli battle. It’s great.

So yes, leaving my kids is hard, it sucks a lot of days when I miss them or miss the school things or work late and don’t get to kiss them before they go to seep, I can’t lie. I don’t mind having the money to enjoy my time with them instead of pinching every penny my husband brought home. vi don’t mind having friends and people near by who I can talk to without having to baby talk or get them a drink.

Moms, I just want you all to know that it’s okay to go back. It’s okay to stay home if you are great with it and you love it more than life itself. Not all of us could swing it. I was getting so fed up with everything that the time I was spending with the kids was spent yelling and freaking out because I was SO. OVER. IT. Now I can enjoy them. Yeah, you’re a little more tired, but once you mom, You can handle pretty much anything. After the huge adjustment, you will get into working mom mode and you can decide from there what you want to do.

Just do you, Boo. The rest falls into place. Either way, if you are taking care of yurt babies and you haven’t killed anymore in your spare time, you’re doing alright in my book!

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Nina Needs to NO.

I hate, hate, hate the show “Nina needs to Go“. It’s a new show on Disney Junior. Every time I see it, it makes me want to stick that id in a corner for a year for being a brat.

HOW MANY TIMES ARE WE GOING TO GO THROUGH THIS, NINA?

I ask you if you have to go, you say no, then 5 minutes later you interrupt our family outing for the bathroom? I don’t think so.

And thanks for the Super Nana, character, too. Now the kids thing some old lady is going to break I don’t even KNOW how many rules to get them to a bathroom.

Maybe the kid needs to see a urologist.

My Dirty Laundry.

I had a bout of “Idontgiveashititis” that lasted far longer than it should have. Well, this morning, I kinda got my crap together and decided to get some things done. One of those things happened to be laundry (ew.). As I started the massive amount of kid laundry, I realized one thing: I HAVE 4 EFFING LOADS OF KID LAUNDRY TO DO. WTF.

FOURRRR.

I have two tiny kids.

Here’s what I took from that:

  • My kids have entirely too many clothes
  • I’m a lazy POS for amassing 4 loads of kid laundry before actually washing them
  • Doing kid laundry sucks.

Ok, I kinda already knew that last one, but a day full of tiny socks and shirts/pants that needed to be turned inside out (and you KNOW it’s like, impossible to fit an arm in those tiny cloth tubes) really solidified the point.

It took pretty much all day. Hours later, I’ve got all the kids laundry done and I’m 3 loads in on my and hubby’s clothes (that’s another story). Moral of the story here: Stop being a POS and do the effing laundry.

So that was my day.

MomGyver (a tip)

Let me share a story since I’m awake entirely too late.

Yesterday, we were at my dad’s for dinner, a semi-usual thing for a Sunday night. Harper must have sensed an ill packed diaper bag and decided it was a wonderful time to go through a diaper and then have an awful one after that. Now, normally, this isn’t a bog deal. I mean… babies poop, we’ve established this. So anyway. Mike tales her upstairs to change this mess (I really am lucky that he changes diapers, feel free to drool, ladies).

That’s when it happened.

No wipes.

And then…

NO DIAPERS

Oh yeah. The no wipes thing was doable. Toilet paper works alright in a pinch. But no diapers was definitely a big deal. With a little inspiration, I came up with the idea to make a makeshift cloth diaper out of an old burp cloth from when the girls were babies (I actually used cheap, old school, cloth diapers as burp cloths!) and a spare pair of Haley’s (clean) underwear!

These are what I’m talking about. They are great for so many things!

Genius

So there you have it, a quick little tip for if (when) you find yourself in unexpected poo territory and you happen to be out of diapers. Cloth in underwear will (while not ideal by any means) work alright until you can get a real diaper.

Priorities.

There are several things that go through the average mother’s mind when she hears her child scream. Usually. Unless you’re me.
When I hear one my girls shrieking from the other room, my brain goes into ‘priority mode’. It actually amazes me how quickly my brain can analyze the type of scream. Then, of course, based off of the analysis, I determine the priority level, then decide if I’m even really going to do anything about it. It’s kind of like when moms know the specific cries of their newborns.

The single scream: priority level 5 : from Haley: Harper is existing near her, from Harper: something inanimate isn’t moving out of the way or Haley is existing hear her, in general: someone’s not sharing something.
Action: fight to the death.

Harper’s extended scream of doom: priority level 3: Harper has something she probably shouldn’t and Haley is looking at her.
Action: yell for them to stop since that scream will not end itself.

Haley’s extended scream of doom: priority level 4 (if followed by crying, priority level 2): this one is a gamble. The scream alone probably means Harper is standing, sitting, or jumping on Haley and it’s annoying her. If followed by a cry, she’s probably actually hurt.
Action: yelling ‘knock it off’ should do the trick, unless there is crying.. crying means I need to investigate.

Screaming in unison: priority level 5: they’re fighting over something.
Action: nah.

THAT scream: priority level 1: you know what I’m talking about. That one scream that means bad is happening. Someone’s hurt. Hurt or stuck. If it’s Harper, I will probably end up either laughing or crying. If it’s Haley, bad is happening. OR her sister took one of her coveted stuffed animals/her blanket because that shit is no joke. Or she’s hurt.
Action: time to go in and laugh, cry, or lay down the law.

There is a lot of wiggle room. Judgments are passed, decisions made, actions executed, but at the end of the day, these general guidelines seem to be pretty accurate. Again, when amazes me is the fact that my brain cycles through all of this each tome one of those little monkeys screams… no wonder I’m so freaking tired at the end of the day!

 

#REALTALK: Double D’s… An Inner (but important) Rambling

**This is pretty long, but worth it.. If you don’t make it to the end for whatever reason, just know that down there, I ask you to share this post (I don’t care if you share the whole blog, just this one post) because it was hard for me to write, and I want to know that someone, somewhere is benefitting from it. **

I have been meaning to do a post about depression and diabetes for quite some time now, but I just haven’t really had the time. Since I can’t seem to sleep, it seems like I’ve found some.

A really big part of diabetes is the blood sugar (checking, monitoring and the always prevalent “YOU CAN’T EAT THAT”), but there’s another part that people who don’t live with the D seem to pass by: depression.

Think about it, diabetes is a disease of the endocrine system. The endocrine system controls a whole host of hormones and functions. As a matter of fact, if my sugar is too high or too low, I’m completely horrid. Like AWFUL. Cranky, whiney, tantrum-y, and just a plain ol’ bitch (yeah, I admit it.).

There are some times when I’m on a high trend and I just get straight up drepressed. Then, of course, I eat my feelings (and let’s be honest, no one gets sad and eats kale amiright?!) and my numbers get higher (therefore getting deeper into depression) and there you have it! A vicious cycle brought on by too much candy (the depression, not the ‘beetus) that I then have to suffer and break myself.

Coming completely clean, I admit that I tried taking an anti-depressant to try to calm the depression down (this was a few months back) so that I had a fighting chance at fixing the whole thing. You know what? It didn’t work. I know that different things work for different people and all, but I’m pretty convinced that because this was from my sugar, medicine wasn’t going to fix it.

Eventually I broke that whole cycle and started getting things back to normal… But every once in a while, depression starts knocking at the door and I have to shove it off all over again. Watching, I have noticed that this seems to happen whenever I deicde that my numbers aren’t important to check anymore and eat whatever I want. (see what I’m getting at?)

There are a lot of other things that go on inside the mind of someone with the D, and I mean, I can only speak from a young person’s point of view here. I know that, at least for me, the hard time losing weight has always been one of them. Diabetes makes it a little harder to lose weight, and a lot of the oral meds for diabetes make it even harder on top of that. Throw in a slow thyroid (a common problem for diabetics) and have a lot stacked against you. I’m not making excuses here, guys, anything is possible!

Continuing on with my unabashed honesty (I’m chalking this up to the fact that I am exhausted) I have always struggled with weight. The demon in my closet steps on the scale A LOT. It sometimes will remind me how much weight I’ve gained since starting this medicine, randomly in the middle of the day. It comes into the dressing room with me at Old Navy and we try on clothes together (it judges). I hear it’s great friends with my on-again-off again-pal, Depression.

Lastly, don’t forget that people with diabetes get to deal with having some life-long, pain in the ass disease for the rest of their lives! Not to be dramatic or anything… but it’s kinda true. Although you should never let your disease get the best of you, some days it wakes up a little earlier than you and has an extra cup of coffee or something, and just gets a leg up on your spirit for the day, that’s totally normal. 

Is this me coming out as a basket case all over the internet? Heck no. This is me trying to give some people some insight into what goes on inside other people’s minds. Not everyone is willing to share. I’m not even sure I’M willing to share!

Think of this as a Cliff Notes for Diabetics, an, Everything you may not have read about on WebMD about the disease kinda thing.

Share this. Share it with everyone you know. Share it with people who have diabetic friends and family members, people married to diabetics, shit, share this with diabetics themselves and hope it encourages them to share what their demons do and say.

I’m sharing all of this uncharacteristally personal dribble with you guys in the hope that I can help you. Even if I help you help someone else. It’s better than being miserable for nothing.

This isn’t a cry for help, it’s a cry to help.