momrambles

It has been a crazy long time since I've blogged. You all know the reason for that, so I won't go into details of how I'm the mother of a 10.5 month-old, active, rambunctious, adventurous, brave little dude. That, plus the fact that I'm in Arkansas while Derick is deployed, doesn't allow much down time. When I do have a few extra moments, I like to eat pounds of chocolate and watch an episode of House Hunters. Or just poop with the door closed.
I like being busy. It really helps the days away from mi chiquito fly by. But, I'm helplessly lazy and lacking of energy, so days upon days of being a "single" parent can really take its toll on my body, mind, and, you got it, spirit.
Before you have a baby, you get warned. They tell you that you won't have anymore free time, so you better enjoy it while you can. They tell you that being in bed before 11 p.m. is a luxury, so you better get used to not taking those midnight trips across town for ice cream. They tell you that you're going to lose a little bit of your mind once you pop that munchkin out of yo bod, so you better start doing some extra sudoku to reign in what brain cells you have.
I must admit. I was the typical pregnant gal who said, "ok give me all the advice you want, but he's my baby, and if I have anything to do with it, this (or that) won't happen." Some things happened. Some things haven't. I've stuck to my guns on a few things, and I've let some things slide. Reeve has fallen asleep in bed with me more times than I'd planned. He's eaten some ice cream because I feel bad eating it in front of him. I let him sleep in a pack-n-play basinette attachment for a little too long because I neglected to read the instructions. I've broken some rules and I've done my fair share of "bad parenting."
But I've also reached some goals. Reeve is still receiving his nourishment from breastmilk, despite a lot of struggle, a lot of advice (good and bad), a lot of pain, a lot of frustration, a lot of questioning, a lot of guilt, a lot of success, a lot of sleepless nights, a lot of feeding in the car, a lot LOT of days doing nothing but sitting on the couch in two-day-old clothes with a baby attached to my boob. My life has centered around breastfeeding, and for realz, if you haven't been there/done that, it's hard to understand the magnitude of what that means. THANK GOD for the friends who've been there/done that, are there/ are doing that, and the positive help and support from friends and family who just really care about my desire to breastfeed and their love for Reeve. It takes a dang village, doesn't it, Hillary Clinton?
I've been typing "I" and "my" a lot, but let me not ignore the obvious fact that I'd be in a mental institute right now if it weren't for the incredible patience and help from my husband. Not just during the struggles of breastfeeding, but with everything. After a long, crazy day at work, Derick would come home, exhausted, and take over as caretaker while I took a shower and cried, or sang, or just stood there. He lets me veg out more than what I probably need to. His days are never-ending. He goes to work at an un-Godly hour, gets off at the hour of Satan, barely has time to eat, and then puts on the Daddy-hat for both mine and Reeve's sake. I have it darn good. I can't complain, even on the roughest, craziest, most poop-covered days. I can't complain. Sometimes, I do and I feel like a big brat because really, I can't complain. My life is good.
And it is HARD without Derick here to help, but it is still good and I have a lot of joy.
It's so easy to lose sight of how good I have it. My dude is healthy and happy and just a really good dude. My family is eager to help and play with Reeve and hang out with me. My husband is working really hard to provide for us and serve our country. I have a long list of things for which I'm thankful. It's easy to focus on the few bad things. The tiny, miniature crappy aspects of life that are nothing in the big picture but seem magnified in the moment can be really hard to look over. I usually find myself focusing on those and those alone. But God's been good to remind me that it's important to keep my priorities in check. His Grace is so abundant. I see that every day.
I don't have the time to blog like I used to, but I don't really want it. Looking back on the past 10.5 months, I've been running around like a wild woman, but I also feel super blessed. I've learned so much and I know there is so much more to learn and experience. I'm by no means the world's best mom. I'm so far from it. I do really dumb, selfish things as a mother. I feel really guilty sometimes at the way I act or the things I say. I get scared that Reeve is going to absorb some of the negativity I have. I feel like I'm being irrational for letting him have so much dictatorship when it comes to eating and sleeping. I feel like I'm being lazy when I decide to sit on the couch instead of do some crunches or pig out on cake late at night instead of some carrots. I feel like a bad mom when I let Reeve watch Dora while I sit in the tub and pin things on pinterest. I feel like a failure when I don't read him a story every night. But I'm reminded that being a mother is a true gift from God. It's pretty normal (or so I gather) to feel like we're doing it all wrong. To feel like we are terrible parents when we don't have our junk together 24/7. Let me tell you, I RARELY have anything together for a minute. It's a good day if I brush my teeth before noon. It's a good day if I change underwear. But every day is a great day to just be a mom, and to be alive, and to be forgiven and loved. Don't be so hard on yourself. There really is no such thing as a perfect parent, I don't think. Pinterest has a lot of really great advice articles and links about how to raise a good kid or how to stay in shape with a baby. Those are good, positive things. But, in addition to all that, I think it really just comes down to doing our best, doing what we can. Sometimes our best is just hugging that dude through the chaos of poop and tears and puke and barking dog and lack of coffee and too much chocolate. And doesn't that big ol fat mess paint a really beautiful picture, when we step back and look at it?