Anxious

I'm the mom of three and wide awake at a very late hour. What's wrong with this picture? Did I mention three fast asleep children? No? Now you see how absolutely crazy it is! I got to be up in 5 hours and as my husband could attest, I'm in need of some serious beauty sleep.
Problem is, well, the darn anxiety dreams have started again. Anxiety has always been an issue with me and I feel like I've dealt with it really well in recent years. The issue comes when my conscious mind takes a backseat to the subconscious and the crazies kick in. Hence, whacked-out, heart-racing, have-me-wide-awake-and-still-not-calmed-down-an-hour-later type dreams.

People tell you that they are never sure about having a third child because you only have two arms. I take this seriously (note, I'm about to go into why my mind works the way it does, you might want to make sure you REALLY want to go there...) My mother, God love her, had a different way of parenting. She was a volunteer paramedic with the local squad. She thought it her duty to not shield us kids from anything, but instead throw us into any and all gory details and horrifying scenes of many of the worst accidents and incidents she ever encountered or heard of. Yes, she did well in the fact I ALWAYS wear my seatbelt/lifevest, know where the fire exits are, will never excessively speed, do hard core drugs and take the next 5 minutes for granted.

This could get her an Oprah award except for the fact that sometimes people (children!) are just not meant to always anticipate the worst happening. This hyper-sensitivity and still adjusting hormones, combined with a two year old who like to dart into traffic while I'm holding the four-year old's hands and carrying a heavy carseat (see, you DO only have TWO ARMS!) can send these sensibilities into over-drive causing me to wake up and panic at every creak while trying to figure out how to make a fire plan that a two year old can grasp and... have I mentioned that the neighbors tree is huge and if it fell it could land on our house... would land right in the girls' room? Oh, the crazies just start there. (Wow, did you catch the length of that run-on sentence? Seriously it's how the mind works)

Now everything you do is a matter of life or death. Like, crossing the street. Driving to school. Making dinner. If you don't have kids, you will understand it one day. If you do have kids, I hope you're nodding in understanding and not dialing the name of a psychiatrist to get me on the non-loco cocktail. It's just that in real life you have to know that life happens and you have to force yourself to do those scary things... like drive a car and take three kids to the grocery. But in sleep that darn subconscious takes over and likes to work me over.

Time to give rest another shot. Here's to hoping about dreaming about puppy dogs and chocolate chip cookies...

Feeling Human Again (kind of)

The other day I was walking in from the car with all the kids... and our crap. I was carrying my purse, the diaper bag, baby carrier (complete with baby) and a couple bags from store (I tend to fall in that category that I would rather load my arms up until the tendons are splitting than make a second trip.) While trying to juggle all of this and unlock the front door my one free finger, all I kept thinking was, "Why didn't anyone tell me that I would become nothing more than a glorified pack mule?"

Later I was nursing the baby, and if you've ever breast-fed a baby you know that although it is a beautiful thing and it's great for the baby and you and blah, blah, blah.... you still feel like a gigantic milking cow. Especially if you pump. I would secretly moo to myself when I used to pump at work. I would pretend to have an audience and would crack myself up in the bathroom. Hey, don't judge, it was REALLY, REALLY boring to sit in there in pump, plus bathrooms have killer acoustics for mooing.

The rest of the day I kept thinking then of other animals that mothers are like, for instance

• Momma Bear- I let my kids fight their own battles but sometimes when it's not fair, momma bear does get the claws out. That means you Mom. If the kids are running away screaming when you say "Let's whip your ducks" (grandma speak for 'comb your hair'), it's time to just let their hair be ratty. My nieces used to say, "Grandma, I don't want my ducks whipped." Thank God nobody has called the Humane Society.


• Horsie- Love my kids but can't wait until I can lay down on my stomach without someone jumping on my back and saying 'GIDDYUP HORSIE!'. I'll be lucky to make it the next 5 years with my spinal column intact.


• Roaring Lion (see also growling)- I'm not proud of this but have you ever picked up the same toys for the 15th time in one afternoon? And yet you still find that one little piece that can puncture the bottom of your foot. I can't tell if I sound more like an angry lion or King Kong. Either way it isn't becoming of a lady.

And Finally,

• Dog Tired- Speaking of, I just realized I'm tired and everyone else is in bed. Why am I still typing?
  

So I can say that now that the newborn vortex has spit us out and I'm back to feeling like a human again, it's somewhat of a bittersweet moment. I realize that to feel human is really just acting like a pack mule/milking cow/momma bear. You got to do what you can though to get through these rough early years. Long live mommy and her animal instincts.

Feel free to post your own :)