What Doesn’t Kill You

Today is Carson’s 5th birthday. One day ago, 5 years ago,  I sat down in a chair and thought I had wet my pants. It was actually my due date and come to find out my water started leaking. Now, that was not in the plans (trying for natural childbirth) but that’s a whole nother story.

In going through today’s rituals -you know, the birthday of a child – I have found myself pulled every which way. I’m sure somewhere in cyber land there’s a poem or saying about a mother feeling like a rubber band. I just don’t have time to go find that right now. The story of my life.

While today is just a day like any other day for me, only added on top that little cherry of the birthday prince, I want to run and hid under a rock.  I want to lock myself in a padded room somewhere and sleep the day away. I am tired.  Am I even allowed to be tired?  What freakin’ happens when mommy is tired? Well, 2-4 years ago juice would have been spilled all over the kitchen floor – twice at least, poop would be all over the walls upstairs, a neighbor would have rung the doorbell to say they about ran over my kids in street…(and that really does mean “and so on”) the story of my life.

I am not sure who coined the saying, “That which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” but I bet it was some poor soul of a mother running the rat race.


As I type now my prince is yelling for me.

I walked in the door from Carson’s party today and three children, two whom had been with me the whole morning, are asking, pleading,  bothering! me for something.  I think they smell me coming from miles away.  Quick, get the trap mom is about here!  Geesh, sometimes this mouse just wants to keep on running to some deserted island.   More actually, I would like to find an island with just a few adults…ahhhh.  What I wouldn’t give for some adult conversation (next post).

Alas, this is my life and it has yet to kill me. I’m actually glad and I really love my family – kids, hubby and dog included.  I get a little crazy – daily – and they have managed to not hate me too bad.  I’m sure I am giving them all enough of their own crap to discuss in therapy for years.  The good thing I have learned and just recently really took hold of: I’m not alone.  There are plenty of other families more screwed up than ours. Just watch Dr. Phil!  You’ll feel better pretty quickly. 🙂


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