Confusion

Dan left for the city. I’m home again with the three boys. Another day and night and day of meals and snacks and naps – and questions, needs and threats.

It seems there are so many of these days, where I am fighting the battle of parenthood alone and just trying to keep it all together. Telling myself to breathe and running little inspirational sayings through my brain like a trumpeted march. “Live your Best Life, Live your BEST Life, Live your Best LIFE.” Yes, I’m a little embarassed to say that I’ve picked up Oprah’s favorite message and used it over and over in the past few weeks. I suppose I shouldn’t be embarassed to latch onto the words of the Queen of Talk. She’s a billionaire, after all, inspiring millions of women world-wide. But there’s my problem. I always feel the need to be MY OWN. Unique, inventive and perfectly capable of finding my own ground to stand on, my own methods of standing and staying on that ground. With the birth of Ethan, and the madness of three boys in the house, and the time crunch that work AND motherhood has placed on me, I finally accept that I am allowed to borrow strategy and wisdom and WORDS from anywhere and everywhere. If it’s something that helps, then what gives? Just give in. Allow yourself.

Thing is, I’m not living my best life. I wonder if hearing the tune play over and over in my mind will make it happen. Doubt it. That’s a dream, baby. But maybe, just maybe, that saying, and the promise of Spring, will help me get through the worst of days, and slowly follow some sort of an action plan to becoming that woman, mother, lover that I so NEED to be. For myself, and for these beautiful boys who drive me utterly mad. Oh yeah, and for my marriage – that husband thing that’s like a ticking time-bomb I always seem to de-activate Last Minute.

Man, Jen, it’s so hard to organize your thoughts, isn’t it? I hope this is okay I’m speaking directly to you because, although this is indeed jet-streamed across the Internet for all eyes to see, it is yet the beginning of our adventure together documenting our Life with Three, and what it means. What the heck does that mean? I’ll tell you one thing, it’s not just about the kids and all the little anecdotes and quotes, though that can definitely be a large part of it. And it’s not just about me, me, me and my, my, my stuggles, hardships and woes. It’s like there is something greater than me and them – sounds cheesy? I know – but I guess you could say it is “us.” Learning to be “us” and what that means. How we aren’t always connected. How sometimes I’m mean and how that shouldn’t be a negative focus because they’re kids and let’s face it, sometimes THEY’RE mean. (And Hey, let’s not get into cause and effect and the “Which came first, the chicken or the egg?” game, because I know I’ll lose. The mom always loses!)

So I’m supposed to be blogging about that Life with Three. But I can’t seem to organize one succinct thought, or a title that would succinctly quantify this first mish-mash of thought. I guess that’s what it does to me. I often say they “suck the life out of me.” That’s just hasty, and makes me sound unloving, and for those that don’t know me, I’m sure they’re rather offended at my even comparing motherhood to a vacuum. But for the purposes of wrapping this up, I guess you could say that when I went from one to two I was enchanted; when I went from two to three I became confused. Almost a year now and I’m just still confused. At any given time it’s for any given reason, and when I say “confusion” you’d have to use any and every connotation of the word.

Oh, I remember now.
Dan left for the city. I’m home alone. And there are countless days and night that I’m in this same position. Daddy gone. Boys gone wild in the house with Mom. But the truth is, even when Daddy is here, and no matter how much he does, it’s always on my shoulders. And so having that third makes it quite a juggling act because I only have two shoulders. Not that you can juggle with your shoulders anyway, but that’s what it feels like I’m trying to do. Accomplish the impossible. Now don’t get me wrong. Dan (Dad) does a lot. Is involved. Changes diapers, does dishes, folds laundry, cleans the shower. Disciplines like a cowboy and yet tickles like Coco the Clown or something. Alright, alright, that’s a bit silly, but the point is that he is present. He is loving and caring and present. But the REAL point is that no matter how “involved” he is (hate that word!), we don’t have one of those Today Show stories of a marriage where hubby and wifey have decided to split all their time and duties down the line 50/50. They each work 2.5 days a week, they do equal parts of laundry loads and errands. Spend equal time with each of the children and it all runs smoothly, works perfectly, and has become the arrangement to bring utter joy and bliss into the life of that family. I just want to say, great for you! Really, Great! But for me, when Dan is gone, it’s just me. And though when he’s here he’s here, It’s All Still Me. Because A MOM sees it all. And that brings us to the running list…..the source of all that confusion?

A jumping off point I’ll try to remember for next time.