So here we go. Time for me to enter the blogging world. A little late, but better late than never, right?!!
Shootin' Rainbows. It's a term (amongst many) that I've had in my head since I became a mother. I just really hate it when you're talking to someone (or reading a post from someone) about parenting and it's all sunshine and lollipops. I mean, seriously, who has a life like that? I understand thinking positive and being thankful for what you've got, but I don't shoot rainbows out my butt and my life sucks sometimes! So I decided to start my blog. For the real mom. (Secretly hoping people relate and that I haven't just lost what few marbles I had left!!!)
I've been nothing but honest about my experiences as a mother, since day 1. Beginning from the life altering pain that brought my son into the world, to the 'just lay down and close your freakin' eyes' feeling I have at the end of the day.
My son is almost 2 now. Not quite sure how that happened. It feels like I've been power blasted from the excited, expectant mother to be to the run ragged, worn out, can't figure out why I put the milk in the cupboard, aged 10 years in the matter of 2, version of myself. It's been a trip, that's for sure.
I love my son with all my being, and I treat him very well. So lets just get that all out on the table (Yes, I've been judged harshly on my honesty before! Makes me wonder what fell out of that person's butt when they took a crap! Skittles? Was there a leprechaun involved???) Anyways.
My son has been the extreme version of extreme since he was born. Oh man, did that kid like to cry. The first few weeks were awesome. Lots of cuddles and staring in complete awe at him and soaking up every waking (and non-waking) moment I had with him. Then something switched. Maybe I wiped his butt the wrong way. Maybe He just didn't like the cut of my jib. But the kid began to cry and didn't stop (despite every desperate attempt by his father and I!!!) until he was half a year old. Oh man, what a long half a year THAT was! Just ask my sister who spent all of 4 nights with us. The sister that was once baby-crazed, has sworn off children forever!
See this face:
Any normal woman, with a soul, would look at that picture and do the 'aweeeee' and get an intense rush of 'baby fever'. I, on the other hand, look back at pictures such as this and break out into a sweat, hyperventilate a little and if I listen close enough, I can hear my ovaries scream and feel my uterus shrivel.
But anyways. We survived. Somehow. Pretty sure I only got out with half my sanity and the beginning of the 'terrible twos' (which no one tells you, begins at 18 months) are certain to take what remains of it.
The child sleeps now. Bliss.
Mama needs a stiff one (a drink, of course!) to recover from the last few days.