This Crabby Mommy

Oh my goodness, I need to figure out why I feel so crabby all the time. Maybe its a combination of a number of things? I keep thinking I need a break from this house but I don't think that's the whole of it. When I do get some sort of break its not enough. Maybe I need a regular break but with my husband working shift work it seems impossible to join any thing or plan any thing. And from past experience, if it seems impossible, I will make sure it is.

I made it through a stressful evening yesterday and didn't lose patience but today I was crabby before I even got out of bed. Maybe its depression. There. I said it. Maybe it is. I've been thinking it for awhile now. Saying it is harder. My father, brother, mother all have depression so it stands to reason that I do too.

I'm completely on board that depression is an illness. It is nothing to be ashamed of. Except. That's the kicker. Except when its me. What the heck?

So. So, I don't know. I don't even know where to start.

5 Minutes

Home

Home for me is my husband and kids. It's this messy house that we are perpetually renovating. It's the laundry stacked so high that you just know it's 15 loads worth waiting to be done. The funny little boy that has that big, contagious smile. The crazy little girl that says all the funniest things because she still gets words wrong like saying alligator instead of elevator. Home is the teenager who was following me around the house telling me all about his first time skiing but who normally you have to drag words out of.

Home is being able to, even at 34, go into my Mom's house and grab something out of the cupboard without asking. Even though I didn't grow up in that house.

Home is being at either of my sister's homes and knowing that if I feel like it, I can put my feet up and lay on the couch and they won't even think to think about it. It's knowing that if my kids are at one sister's house and they want to go to the other sister's house, nobody even needs to call me to tell me they switched it up. Because as long as they are with them I know they are safe and loved, and really, what else matters?

Home is becoming church. I feel real peace in that place, that building, that community of people. I feel welcome. The peace, that's big for me. I have never felt that before, that I can remember. Not really. And I can't seem to get enough of it. I think my kids feel it too. I think they feel at home there too and that helps with the peace.

Stop

Woo hoo! I did it!

Woo hoo! I took a 3 year-old and an 8 year-old to Tim Horton's for a really late supper and didn't lose my temper once! Woo hoo!

I made a promise yesterday that we would eat in after hockey tonight. And, even though I really, really didn't want to, I kept it. So, yeah, crazy me took two tired kids to eat in public at bed time and didn't lose, and the kids didn't lose it either! I think that's the thing that surprised me the most about the whole trip. I didn't lose so the kids didn't lose. I need to remember that "so" in the last sentence and then repeat it, often.

Also, didn't let the older couple at the next table staring us down bother me. I mean, I noticed them, but I made a conscious choice to ignore them all their judgy judging. Which is crazy because, come on, they were probably thinking what a great parent I was for not losing it at two young kids at that time of night even though the little obviously needed to be somewhere with a bed. I, of course, always think they're thinking about why I let the 3 yo get her way instead of just making her put the coat on with the liner in, not taking the liner out. Why do I think about what they think? I have absolutely no idea. You'd think I have enough thoughts to worry about of my own without worrying about someone else's! Need to let it go.

So, regardless of the older couple's thoughts, mine are happy! And she fell asleep on the way home, yay! And I let him stay up a bit late because, well, because I can.

Woo hoo!

So Here I Am

I've been wanting to start a weblog for a while now but I'm not a writer and have no aspirations to be a writer so I thought I shouldn't. After reading a statement from a seasoned blogger that said if you want to start a blog, do it, and then keep doing it. Stress on the keep doing. So here I am.

I am going to try to be completely honest on this blog because I can. Because I'm going to try to keep it anonymous. So that I can do this without fear. So that I can tell stories about my kids that won't come back to haunt them or me. So I can record the things they say and the things I feel and the things I'm thinking about.

I'm a mom to three, ages 3, 8, and 17. I'm married to the guy I've been with since grade 8 (I know, weird!). So we've now been together for more than 20 years but married for just over 10. I work full time, I parent full time, I clean and cook when I have to.

I'm starting on three distinct journey's in my life right now. In no particular order of importance:

The first is to yell less. I want to be a kind, gentle, loving mom and wife and daughter. I don't want to be this angry, impatient, unkind person that I seem to have become. I think I yell for lots of different reasons and am going to use this space to try and help myself discover them so I can stop this craziness.

The second is to find my way to a Christian life. I've been making steps in the right direction but this is hard stuff. I joined a great church, I go every single Sunday that I am not away. I volunteer to help with the children's program. I show up to the family supper nights. And I do it all without my husband because he's not interested. So, it's hard but I'm trying and it's sure helping with the less yelling journey.

The third is to lose weight. I need to do this for so many reasons. For health, for self-confidence. I know that if I were happier with my figure, that I would be less of a yeller.

I know that a lot of blogs have a theme that is specific. I don't have a theme really, unless you count me. I also don't have a schedule or any idea of what I'm doing exactly. But since no one but me is reading this, I guess it doesn't matter! I'm thinking that I just need to pretend that I have an audience so that I have someone to write to.