Adoption Momfession

Our home study is tomorrow and I have bitten all the white off my finger nails.

Anxious (and gross) much?!

It's like I'm fully expecting him to say, "You people do not deserve another precious baby-- you aren't even good parents to the three you have!" 'Cause I know the truth-- this is a tough job, and I'm not a perfect parent. By a long stretch.

Sometimes (more than I would like to admit) I yell at my kids. And I set bad behavior examples for them all the time (being selfish, being proud, gossiping, judging, being jealous...) And I feed them more peanut butter and jelly and hot dogs than any human should consume. And sometimes I let them skip taking a bath (I do make them change their underwear though.) And I don't make them wear matching clothes out of the house. And some days I play on Facebook instead of playing with them. And I let them eat ice cream more than they should because then I can eat ice cream without having to share mine.

I guess my deepest fear is that our social worker will call out my junk and say we aren't worthy of adoption. I know I don't deserve the honor of raising another kid-- heck, I don't deserve the honor of raising the three I have now!

So, here we go. We're jumping into the great deep unknown of home studies and dossiers and international mail. And I don't even have any fingernails to claw my way out.

And then I passed out and my iPod fell in the toilet.

True story. (Caution: bodily function words ahead.)

We spent the weekend sharing a stomach virus-- as all good-mannered families do every year or so. Sunday was my day. I woke to a rumbly tummy, and made my way to the bathroom. I took my iPod touch because sometimes with tummy troubles, you have to ummm, you know, sit for a little while. I thought I could catch up on emails and Facebook happenings.

My tummy couldn't make up it's mind and I felt like I was gonna toss my cookies, so I put my iPod on a shelf in the bathroom and flushed and got ready to throw up. The vomit never came but I started feeling light-headed and my vision was clouded with waves of black.

I called out for Hubby, who couldn't hear me over the dryer noise and the music he was playing. I stood up (I think- it gets foggy here) with the intention of making it back to the safety of my bed and that's all I remember.

Apparently I passed out and pulled the towel bar down with me. Somehow I hit my foot wrong (it ached the whole rest of the day) and in the process of not-so-gracefully falling out, I knocked the shelf holding my iPod and in some random, we-couldn't-make-it-happen-again-if-we-tried turn of events, my iPod fell kerplunk! straight in the toilet. (Which was thankfully clean water since I had flushed before attempting to throw up!)

Hubby helped me into bed, and saw my iPod in the toilet. He acted quickly getting it out and Googling what he should do to resuscitate it. What did people do before Google?! He didn't tell me until later where he had discovered my poor iPod.


I am happy to announce that submerging the iPod in rice in a closed tupperware and placing it on the radiator for two days worked for my iPod. It dried out and works perfectly again. And I've learned my lesson about taking electronic devices in the bathroom, I'll just stick with magazines for any prolonged stay!

Moving Eve & Stuff

It's moving eve. Ya know, the night before the big truck comes and burly guys who don't understand the more delicate things in life toss my valuables around, and then suddenly I'm sitting in an empty house with all these boxes around me and I'm supposed to sort it all out and put it all away.

Have you ever noticed that it costs like seventy three thousand dollars to move? OK, OK, I jest (slightly). But seriously. New light fixtures, new paint, new rugs, new frames, new curtains, new lamps... pay the movers, pay the painter, pay the cleaners, pay the electrician.

Really, we haven't even paid all that much yet (mainly because Hubby is doing a great job of keeping me out of IKEA and our country's equivalent of Home Depot) , but there's this list in my head that stretches beyond tomorrow (Moving Day!).

And it's too bad because Hubby told me today we're out of money.

And you'd think I'd know better anyway because ohmygosh where did all this junk that the movers will put into a big truck tomorrow come from????? Two years and four months and seven days ago we arrived here with an assortment of suitcases and carry-ons holding our earthly belongings and now we are arranging transport for enough stuff for a small village of people.

And have I told you I'm supposed to read 7 by Jen Hatmaker? I was supposed to read it over Christmas vacation and do a blog review of it. It's downloaded on my Kindle and ready to go. Friends have emailed asking if I've read it and what I think.

And y'all I can't even bring myself to open the book. I know it's gonna rock my world. I know it's going to make me want to get rid of stuff, of stress, of extra. But I just feel too doggone tired to be convicted and inspired and to do anything about it.

So there you go. I'm avoiding the book 7 right now because I just can't handle it. I feel a storm brewing over the island of my life and it's gonna be a dozie... doozie? dousy? douzie? Ah whatever.

Mid-Week Momfessions

Last week all three kids had strep throat.

Strep throat is like my kryptonite. I swear, I can hear that some random person, I have never even met has strep throat and BAM! I'm in the bed feeling like death. Cross my heart- it's been that way as long as I remember.

And no sooner were we kinda sorta maybe on the upswing this week when it's like we have this nasty head cold- coughs, snot, low fevers, more snot, headaches, sinus aches, and snot. Lots of snot.

And when weeks are passing like this- wave after wave of something- there is not even a thought of cooking healthy family meals, preparing stunningly awesome family devotions, writing copious amounts of amazing blog posts- it's more like I have to make it through this sickness alive, if I die Ladybug will never go in public with her hair brushed again because OH MY GOODNESS if it doesn't seem to bother Hubby that he's walking out the door to take the kids to school and her hair looks like a commune for a colony of rats (again).

Can I be honest that that is really one of my main fears about my own premature death? Does that make me shallow?

Random Schmattering: Single Parent Edition

Caution: this post contains a lot of potty-talk. If poop and pee bother you, click away, quick!

• Hubby is out for the week, helping with some disaster relief projects in another city. I am so proud of my husband, and I love his genuine desire to serve others, but y'all-- this single parenting thing is not for the faint of heart! Seriously. I don't think there's enough coffee in the entire world for this job solo.
• On a related note: my children are sinners. Amen. (Of course, they get it from they mama...)
• Tonight (a mere five hours after purchasing a Congrats-you're-really-potty-trained present for Stinkbug) he pooped in his underwear. And not a nice, clean poop either. Blame the single parenting gig, or my gag reflexes, or just plain laziness, but I threw the poopy underwear into a grocery bag, tied it off, and threw it away. (I've also been known to do the same for Tupperware I find in the fridge and just can't stomach tackling.) Don't judge.
• Speaking of the potty... the other night I found Doodlebug playing in a toilet full of pee that his brother did not flush. I fished this toy out of the potty:

After I gagged and washed it thoroughly and then washed it again. I just had to laugh. Did you get it? "Piston"... and it was literally "pissed on". Hahahahahahahahaha. I need coffee.

• Also speaking of the potty, I found this in Doodlebug's diaper the other day:

I'm not really sure how that happened. And I choose to believe that it somehow just got in his diaper without traveling the entire length of his digestive tract... it might take the cake for the weirdest item I've ever found in a diaper. 

• I am tired and ready for my husband to come home. And I can't wait to go out by myself once he's home and drink a coffee (or seven) and just exist in silence alone for awhile... but really, I do love my kids. Sometimes I happen upon a moment of sibling endearment and I just stop and wonder at the gift that is these three precious little souls in my care...

Of course, ten minutes later they're snatching and snitching and hanging on my legs crying while I cook dinner, and then refusing to eat the dinner I make because it's "yucky"... But really, I do love them. Really. (And what would my blog be without their antics????)

Breastfeeding Momfessions

If I were being honest, I would tell you breastfeeding is not my favorite part of motherhood. In fact, I have told several people that. I was determined to nurse Ladybug, and it was very hard and very painful in the beginning. I would watch the clock, dreading the moment she would wake and need to nurse again, and I cried through each feeding. I reduced my "goal" from six months to one month, and decided if I was still struggling at the one month mark, I would give it up. The Lord was gracious to heal us by one month, and I was able to continue to nurse Ladybug.

I appreciate being able to nurse Ladybug more now than I did at the time. Maybe a painful, rocky beginning colored my view of breastfeeding.  Maybe it was the cultural attitudes about breastfeeding that affected how I felt about nursing. Maybe it was all the mixed messages I was receiving about nursing and sleep training and all those conflicting things that new moms hear from doctors, books, well-meaning friends, parents, etc. (Everyone else seems to think they know how you should care for your infant!)

I was pregnant again when Ladybug was eight months old, and I decided to wean so the new little bug could have all the nourishment he needed from me. So we weaned. And Ladybug was such a content li'l bugger, she never looked back.

Stinkbug was a distracted nursling. On off, on off, look around, stress mommy out. It didn't help that during my seven months of breastfeeding Stinkbug, we packed and sold all of our earthly belongings to move overseas. I was on emotional overload and having such a distracted nursing baby was pushing me over the edge. After reaching my six month goal, it just became easier to give him a bottle, and by seven months, we were completely done.

I don't regret either of my first two nursing experiences. My goal was six months for each, and both times I succeeded.

I have grown a lot as a mom since 2007 when I held my first brand new baby and tried to get her to nurse. When Doodlebug was placed in my arms in 2010, I knew what to do.

But more than mechanics, I had come to appreciate breastfeeding as more than just a meal for my baby.

As a stressed out first time mom, the clock ruled my world. I had read some questionable "infant training" materials and I didn't trust myself because the books didn't seem to trust that I would know what to do.

I wanted baby to nurse for X amount of minutes at designated intervals and sleep all night. Period. Those things equaled success in my mind. I felt guilty and anxious if those things weren't happening exactly as the books prescribed.

And then Doodlebug arrived on the Momfessions scene.

I have really enjoyed my nursing relationship with Doodlebug. Doodlebug loves drinking his milk, and I have loved giving it to him. I feel so proud of the fact that I have provided him with milk for the past 364 days.

Today I asked him if he wanted some milkie and he cruised over to me smiling, and pulled at my shirt.

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that Doodle is our last (planned) biological baby that has caused me to enjoy nursing him so much. Maybe it's being a third-time mom that has made me relax and just nurse him without worry, without anxiety. Whatever it is, I am so thankful for this breastfeeding journey with Doodlebug.

My goal with Doodlebug was a year and tomorrow, I will have made my goal of one year. And I'm pretty proud of it. I feel like it's been a hard and rewarding journey and it has changed me so much-- just like every other aspect of parenting!

image credit

Mid-Week Momfessions

I love Justin Bieber.

I can't help it. I love to turn on his music and dance with the kids.

So, I guess you could say I have Bieber Fever.

(Here is my favorite Justin Bieber song, Somebody to Love.)

Whose Bad Habit?

This morning, I asked the kids to put their PJs in the PJ drawer. Simple enough, right? I proceeded to watch both of them run down the hallway, stop at their bedroom door and toss their PJs in.

I hollered at them that they needed to pick up their PJs and put them in the PJ drawer.

Then I walked into the kitchen shaking my head and said to Hubby, "What is with our kids and throwing their clothes in the middle of their room?"

He looked at me sort of incredulously. I think he was probably thinking of this:

That might just be my bedroom floor. And the clothes I tossed there last night when I was getting ready for bed. Oops.

I felt really dumb and silly. If my kids have the bad habit of tossing clothes on the floor, they learned it from me. What other bad habits have I unwittingly passed along to my offspring?

(It can be a really overwhelming/depressing thought.)

Today, I'm gonna start by putting my clothes in the closet when I'm done with them. And I'm going to try and remember that little eyes are always watching... always imitating.

Mid-Week Momfessions

I yell at my kids.

I hate it and I wish I didn't. I don't everyday. But sometimes (OK, probably once a week) I have a didn't-read-my-Bible-woke-up-twice-to-nurse-the-baby-last-night-have-a-monster-headache-and-I'm-just-plain-ol'-sinful kinda day and they do things that irritate me act like children, and I just snap and I yell at them.

Honestly, there's probably not much worse in the world than the quivering of their little chins after I yell at them. The look in their tear-filled eyes after I raise my voice and let them have it.

I'm working on it. Through God's grace I can hopefully overcome this nasty habit. I want to show them grace and teach them how to gracefully react to others, and yelling is not the way I want to accomplish that.

Hi, I'm Sheila. And I yell at my kids.

Have a momfession of your own? Blog about it and link up here!

Mid-Week Momfessions

I have been thinking about but dreading
want to get into shape. And so inevitably I know I need to eat right and exercise. (That's really the only solution to anyone wanting to be healthy, if you want my opinion.)

Well, I've done a few exercise videos since Doodlebug was born, but haven't committed fully to becoming healthier. Yesterday morning, Ladybug crawled into bed with me and started talking to my belly like there was a baby in there. I promptly hopped out of bed and into some work-out clothes and got to work.

So, yes I have a mommy tummy. And having my three year old talk to my belly was embarrassing enough to me that it was all the motivation I needed to get on the wagon and get rid of the baby weight x 3.

Your turn, what do you want to momfess?

Mid-Week Momfessions

I hate pills. Always have. Probably always will. So... I take a gummy multi-vitamin. You know, the chewy ones like preschoolers use? They make them for weird adults like me. And I take them happily.

Wanna momfess something? Go ahead and use the comments, or post your momfession on your own blog and leave the link in the comments, I'd love to hear your confessions!

Free-Write Friday

My hair hangs wildly askew, framing my tired face. There wasn't time to fix it (or apply make-up) as I went through the motions of my morning. Coffee was downed, Bible was read, prayers were breathed, children were fed, diapers were changed, kids were dressed, baby was nursed, lunch was prepared...

I hear the giggles of children as they ride their pretend train (aka the couch) to some imaginary destination. I wish I was aboard. I need a vacation.

The baby is sleeping (finally) after days battling against a fever with medicine and constant snuggles.

I feel weary. I feel tired. I feel empty.

I can't count on one hand the number of times I've snapped at my children today. Upset that they're jumping on furniture, or spilling drinks, or being too loud, or waking the baby.

I'm frustrated with myself that I've been so frustrated with my infant's constant cries and whines. I wish I knew better how to ease his discomfort.

In moments like this I feel the most human. My emotions are raw, my body is weary, my soul is thirsty... I know that my calling is beyond my capability.

But deep within me is a thanksgiving song-- to the One who sustains me. To the One who wakes me each morning with life and breath and being. To the One who holds my children more tightly than I do. To the One who holds me as well.

Mid-Week Momfessions

I've blogged about cloth diapers before.

They are great. They really are. But...

When you have two in diapers, and you're nursing one and constantly getting snacks for the other two, and then you add in making baby food and doing laundry and cooking dinner and picking up toys all day...

OK, I confess, my cloth diapering is sorta sporadic these days. It's not the diapers, it's me.

And I take comfort in the fact that even if I only use one cloth diaper on one kid every day, I save 365 diapers from the landfill in a year. And every little bit counts, right?

Have your own "momfession"? Go ahead, leave a comment and momfess to your heart's content!

Mid-Week Momfessions

I don't always make my children brush their teeth.

I know, I know.  Gross, right?  But let me tell you, when Hubby's gone for the evening and I've been spit up on, and changed an explosive diaper (or ten), watched Cars or Toy Story again, and been asked for a snack seventy eleven times I just want the Bugs in bed.

So when the clock strikes that magic number, I whisk them down the hallway and though they ask, "Don't we need to brush our teeth before bed?"  I shrug and say, "Not tonight."

I know, I know.  But hey, they'll lose these baby teeth someday anyway.

Wanna play along?  Blog your own momfession, then come back here and click below to enter your link. (When you click below, you will be taken to a new page to enter your blog link!)  Grab the button code from the sidebar if you'd like. I can't wait to read your Mid-Week Momfessions!

Mid-Week Momfessions

My momfession this week?  I'm a mean mom.

Just look at the proof:



Now, it's your turn.  Blog your own "momfession", then come back here to link up your post. (From your blog, copy the address of your post. Come back here and click link below, then paste your blog link in the provided space.)

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Mid-Week Momfessions

I don't know about you, but I have a lot to confess momfess about the way motherhood happens around here sometimes.  I blog about it (sometimes), but I don't want to be the only one 'fessin' up.  So here's your chance.  If you have some momfessions you need to unload, blog all about it-- give us the nitty gritty-- link up your post, come read the other linked "momfessions", and feel better that you're not alone!  (Feel free to grab the Momfessions button for your post!)

So, my momfession is television.  It's my secret weapon against the Bugs who now outnumber me three-to-one.  I don't like using the TV this way.  I hate popping in a movie to grab a quick shower, or showing a DVD to buy myself a few minutes to read the Bible, but it's just kinda happened.  My TV is on.  A lot.  Quite a bit more than I ever imagined it would be.  I feel oodles of guilt over it...

...and then I peek in and see the Bugs sitting so quietly, mesmerized by The Wonder Pets, and I think, "Wow, I probably have twenty five minutes to wash my hair.  With soap.  And rinse it."

So what's your momfession?

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Life A Mess

I don't know about you, but I put so much pressure on myself this time of year.  There are cookies to be baked (by me), presents to shopped for and purchased (by me), stockings to be filled (by me), parties to be hosted (by me), pictures to me taken (by me)... Do you see a trend?

Honestly, if I skipped baking cookies or hosting parties, no one but me would probably care.  And then I wouldn't feel like I feel this week.

How do I feel, you ask?

Why yes, those are cookies I was attempting to bake while juggling a preschooler, a toddler, and a newborn.

(Apparently what I thought was shortening, was not.  It must have been more like butter.  It's always hard to tell when you live overseas-- nothing is as it seems.)

It's not just the cookies.  Hubby has had extra work responsibilities surface this week, Ladybug accidentally locked herself in the bathroom earlier in the week and I had to call Hubby home to get her out, friends dropped by for a visit unexpectedly, I am back to taking lessons and formally studying the local language this week, I am trying to get the shopping finished since we'll be out of town next week, and I am hosting two holiday parties for friends.  It just feels like my plate is so full (and not just with messed up cookies!)

Here I just told you I was relaxing and enjoying the holiday season, and then I flipped out when I realized it was the middle of December and I wasn't "ready" for Christmas!  Ugh, I am so frustrating to myself!

Oh well, what can you do but pour yourself a cold glass of milk and enjoy the ugly cookies that you most certainly can't serve anyone else?

Just Bein' Honest

I've been a blogger since I got married in 2005, and I've been posting here at Momfessions since 2008.  I've had some absences and spells of blogger's block... and I've had two children since Momfessions was born.  And I have come to need this place so much.  I need somewhere to vomit my confessions, some place to brag on the funny things my witty children say, and to show off my amateur photos.  There's nothing fancy or polished about this blog, and that's the way I like it.

I feel like so much of the blogosphere as of late has become scientific and political.  I just want a place to document this journey.  To tell it like it is.  To giggle and make you giggle.  To cry and make you cry...

When my kids are off at college and I am wishing for the good ol' days of changing diapers and feeding children (all.day.long), I want to come to my cozy little corner on the Web and laugh and blubber as I look at the pictures and read the stories and remember what a circus it really was over here at the Momfessions house.

I have so much to say, but a lot of days no adult to say it to.  And then when I'm around real live adults, I feel like baby smiles, toddler talk and preschooler mishaps aren't so important anymore.  (I mean, they are important to me but in the grand scheme of things, they probably don't matter much to the other adults in my life.)  I'm here in the day of small things.  I do change diapers and make food all day long.  My idea of art appreciation is to hang Ladybug's stick figure drawings up on the fridge.  To feel fashionable when I go out, I change into an un-spit-up-on shirt.  If I were to cook a gourmet feast fit for a king, I'd have noses turned up and be asked where the mac 'n' cheese was.  Some may call that drudgery, I call it dailyness.

It isn't always easy.  It isn't always fun.  It's definitely not always pretty!

Today I actually told Ladybug, "Stop crying or I'll give you something real to cry about!" (Can you believe I really, truly said that?!)

Today I took my kids to the playground, not because it's a beautiful day, but because I wanted them to run around and get tired so they would take a good, long nap this afternoon.  (OK, admit it, you've done this too!)

Today I watched Stinkbug pick his nose and didn't stop him because I was too tired to get up and help him use a Kleenex.  (This is really gross, I know...)

I don't know where this post is going... maybe I want to say I'm not apologizing for what you see on Momfessions.  I am showing you my life.  And it's not as much for you as it is for me.  To remember these days by.

And just now it took the kids about 4.765 seconds to fall asleep when I made them lie down for nap.  {sigh} I love the playground.

Momfess the Mess

[gallery columns="2"]

Mom, look away!

This is my house.  This is my house on pregnancy.  

It feels good to show you how my house looks right now.  Like, a load off my chest-- my house is kinda a wreck!  There, I said it!

Actually my life feels like a wreck, in only the way a life does when you're 35 weeks and 4 days pregnant.  And uncomfortable.  And unmotivated.  And grumpy.  And tired.  And sleepless.  And weepy.

I'm not sure if I was like this at the end of my other pregnancies.  I'd like to go ahead and assume I am feeling extra pregnant this time for a few reasons:

1. I have a preschooler and a toddler.


2. I live overseas and daily tasks take a lot more time, energy, and brainpower (my brain feels burnt out on my second language!)


3. This is the third time my body has swelled to epic proportions in just three and a half years.

I'm not complaining.  OK, maybe just a smidgen... I know there are women who would give an arm to feel every second of 35 weeks and 4 days pregnant.  As much as I am drained and ready to be un-pregnant because I'm miserable, I am totally stoked when I think about holding Dooodlebug, dressing him in baby blue, snuggling a sweet little newborn, introducing him to his siblings...  {sigh}  If only I could fast-forward a wee bit and get to the good stuff!

Since I am mom-fessing the state of my house today, I must also brag a little bit.  This morning I made cinnamon rolls for the family and cut up fresh fruit for a delicious breakfast, I let the Bugs paint for our preschool art time this morning, and I cooked a lunch for the kids and myself that did not include peanut butter or jelly.  So, I'm not a total mommy loser!

Momfessions

Honestly I don't know how those women do it.  You know the ones I'm talking about-- they blog about making blueberry muffins from scratch while their handful of children work independently on home school assignments.  They grow their own veggies and herbs, and welcome their husband home each night with fresh make-up on and a delicious home-cooked meal in the oven.  They're sexy, and wise, and creative, and cool.  They never raise their voices at their children, and their husbands feel like the most cherished man in the world.  They make money from ads on their blogs from awesome companies, and they are writing a book in their free time...


Oh wait. No one's really like all that, you say?

Funny, 'cause somehow that's exactly how I expect ME to be. And for some odd reason I've tricked my mind into thinking all those other women out there are doing it.  And doing it without much effort.

Let me tell you something about me:

• I'm 22 weeks pregnant and I drink Starbucks and Pepsi whenever I can.  I have to.


• I snuggle and read bedtime stories to my children like the perfect mother, but will yell in a heartbeat when they get out of bed asking for a (insert bedtime request here).  It's like I lose all patience after magical story-time ends.


• I like cooking boxed macaroni and cheese for my kids when it's just us for lunch.  And I like eating it too.  I have never looked at the sodium per serving, and probably never will.


• I'm frightened about having my third child because I don't feel like a good enough mom.  I am not sure how everyone will cross the street when there are three times as many of them as there are of me.  And I will soon be lacking a 1-to-1 ratio on arms to children.


• Sometimes (like now) I sit in the middle of a trashed living room and instead of picking up the dirty laundry, pillow forts, sippy cups, and toys, I sit in the middle of it all to check Twitter and Facebook because I can.  And selfishly, I want to.

I'm not sure why I'm telling you all of this.  Maybe I just needed to get it off my chest.  I'm not the perfect woman, and I don't think I mind all that much.