You know you're a Mother when..

It’s a painful road, motherhood. A constant cross of desire to be more, have more, and perfect contentment varying day by day sometimes by the second.

You see, sometimes I know you get so lost in motherhood and bettering your lives and every aching thought is about your children. Why? We wish we knew. We wish we knew what made us as mothers crave their arms around the back of our necks when we feel lost or alone. We wish we knew why when we looked at them we saw pieces of ourselves that we wanted to make sure were never broken again.

We get so lost sometimes that it takes us from reality. 

You see when I pray at night, I pray to God that when I close my eyes that he protects my babies while I rest, only to spend the next day yelling at them for things they can’t control, or accidents, or even sometimes because admittedly I just need to yell and they are so willing to cause chaos.

We forget about us. We forget about our husbands. We sometimes forget about the sanctity that makes our family whole, and that is our marriage. It sometimes seems so unselfishly selfish that we want nothing but the world for our babies, and thinking that we are the world to them. But the reality is, they are our every breath, our every heartbeat, our every second of adrenaline. THEY are what keeps us moving in this life – but we must never forget the man who made us a Mother. The man who gave us the dream of nurturing innocent little babies and yelling at their mischief.

So tonight, I will remember to pray for my husband – and to pray for his heart, his soul, his well-being and to also pray for him as a father. It’s so easy to get lost in motherhood, and maybe I’ll remember to pray for me too. To be a less yell-y mama, to pray for my heart and my soul and my well-being (AKA Sanity, which moms don’t have)

So tonight when you’re saying your baby lovin’ prayers (even if they’re 32 year old babies) remember to pray for your family and what made you a family. Your husband, the father of your children, and you too..

MommyHood: The scariest 'Hood'

 

 

 

 

Being a mom. No pressure, right? Even though it's like...the scariest.thing.ever

Let's talk about some scary things in life.

Regret, that's scary business.

Responsibility, that is some serious stuff.

#Adulting, it's unfortunately slightly inevitable

Those are some scary things, and yes; they all come with motherhood. Lucky for you! It's like someone opened up the pearly gates to little giggles, adorable baby faces and turns out they were a pack of wolves; and honey - you aren't the pack leader!

Oh, and Motherhood came with rules.

Like: Don't show your tits to anyone anymore, you're a mom! Cover those suckers up, even if you're breastfeeding; have some courtesy women....[sarcastic sigh] In fact, might as well avoid showing your tits to your husband too- they're not his property anymore.

Oh, and don't even think about ever doing anything for yourself again - motherhood will restructure your brain and you will no longer have to worry about doing things for yourself. #Momguilt

#Momlife is like a lifelong cult of worry, fear, and failure.

 

Those poopy diapers and sleepless nights look like the easy part now, huh?

 

So, all jokes aside now - Motherhood came with the biggest rule of all.

 

Protect your own

 

 

Sounds like the most innate and instinctive rule of all, right? So why do I feel like the only person in the world that can't protect my children? As a matter of fact, more often than not - I feel like I am the person that fails them. Now that's scary.

 

My children didn't choose me, and for what reason that God chose me to be their mother is often quite ambiguous. But nonetheless, I am here to protect them, guide them, and love them.

 

I take my job as a mom very serious. most days

 

 And on days when I can't, you'll find me at #meltdowncentral #allaboard and I'm not sure where you'll find my kids. Alive, and in my house. Usually. (sometimes they get out of their cages)

 

Days as a mom are overwhelming. They whirl by so fast that it rips the girl you were right out of your soul. You think I'm kidding? #momsunite #rememberingthegirlweonceknew

 

 

I think motherhood is a constant battle of trying to mold your children into their own beings that will be successful, kind, giving, and driven while trying to figure out who the hell you are - and where in the hell that awful smell is coming from.

 

 

 



 But the really scary stuff. The stuff that sends shivers down my spine and makes my neck hairs stand on end. Regret. Responsibility.

 

Regret

 

I regret when I am too tired to read one more bedtime story.

What if it's the last bedtime story you'll ever ask me to read you?

I regret when I get frustrated with when they ask me for things they only want ME to do.

Because one day, you won't care need me for the things you do now.

I regret every time I make them feel less important than my OCD

Because it's hard to realize the messes are only temporary and your childhood is too..

 

Responsibility

 

I am responsible for them I am responsible for molding them. For making them kind, giving, loving, and driven.

I am responsible for showing them how to love, and to be loved - and I fail, often.

I am responsible for the impact they have on this world as a result of my parenting.

I am responsible for their life.

 

They were created for me to be responsible for, and it is the biggest, scariest, and most rewarding responsibility I've ever had the pleasure and fear of having.

 

 

Being a parent has stripped my identity. It has taken everything I ever knew about myself.

 

I didn't know how much I could love.

I didn't know how much I could kiss

I didn't know how much sleep I could run on (which is very little)

 

I certainly didn't know how SCARY and terrifying being a mom could truly be.

Not because I think I will fail at times - I know I will fail

Not because I'm scared my children will fail at times - I know they too, will fail

 

But because even though I don't remember who I was before them - I can't imagine who I'd be without them.

 

#mommyhood


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



MomGuilt: I forgot to watch you grow.

Watching my children growing.  A very real pain, deep inside me. Welling with emotion, regret, and sadness. Deep Sadness.  The kind of sadness that bubbles up in your belly, moves up your throat and comes out your eyeballs. Okay, crying. Lots of sadness, and lots of crying. ..and some more crying. (Because we can use the hormones we got from pregnancy is an excuse forever, and don’t you forget it!)

Because you need to slow down, because I’m not ready yet.

Because I’m that mom that forgets to cut your fingernails, toenails and some days even making sure you are a visibly presentable child. Because sometimes I’m failing, and some days the best thing I am doing is to let you look socially unacceptable.  Some days you wear “cowboy” boots with plaid shorts and a long sleeve flannel top because I’m too tired to argue about how its 90 degrees outside and how you aren’t wearing socks in rubber boots (And I’m not even 100% sure you have on underwear).

Because not every day is our day. And some days REALLY aren’t our day. And every day, I question my ability to be your mother. Because you deserve the best, and I'm really not sure that I'm it.                                                             

I forget to notice all the small things each and every day.  I’m so suffocated in an everyday routine that I forget to notice you growing…then the days that I have a moment to experience a calm, I experience so much pain.

That guilty pain of being a mom,
a working mom,
A working mom in school,
A full time working mom in school who is sometimes selfish with her time,
A working mom in school who is sometimes selfish and goes through fast food thinking it will create more time to do important things…

But what could be more important than being with you?

When the babysitter notices things about you that I don’t, or when she cuts your nails because I forgot when she told me they were long…..then forgot again, or she finds all the dirt in the crevice of your neck that I’ve failed to clean for 3 days…(Okay. Well, maybe 5), or the wax that can inevitably be seen in your ear within a 10 mile radius.
It’s not because I don’t care, and I wish I could say it’s because all my time is devoted to making memories and laughing and loving that I forgot the necessities and daily care for you…But I’d be lying.

 Because let’s face it, if you had a bath yesterday and it comes down to bath time or 30 minutes to poop alone (3 seconds to lock the door, 2 minutes to poop, 20 minutes to scroll through Facebook and 8 minutes to sulk in silence) there is no comparison, child.

You. Are. Not. Getting. A. Bath.

But mama (reminding myself) they are only this way for so long.

 I never realized that the last time I carried my son to bed could have been the last time he ever let me. Or even the last time he showed me that little itchy spot right inside his butt crack, next time it may be too embarrassing to show mommy your butt!

Inconvenienced about the glass of chocolate milk that my son could clearly reach for himself, but asked me to get it for him….One day he won’t need me for that…or even care to need me for that.

Because one day, a hell of a lot sooner than I want to believe, he won’t need me anymore for the things that inconvenience me now. For the things that make me his parent. He won’t need me to pick out his clothes, help him button his pants,  or tie his shoes. He won’t need a bedtime story, and an extra snuggle before drifting to sleep.  While he will likely always still need someone to wash his clothes, cook him food, and make sure he scrubbed all the dirt off in the tub, it won't be me. One day.. I won't be his #1 and I will have to share this experience with someone who will be.

He won’t care for me to tickle him,  or sneakily getting into bed between me and daddy (which isn’t very sneakily) and one day those moments will be gone and I won’t remember when the last was, only that it was once there and that chapter of both of our lives  has closed.  Talk about a hard pill to swallow.

Every day we are together, every day we wake up and we go about our routines and we spend so much time together, but somehow…

Somehow, I forgot to watch you grow.

Because day over day it seems as if nothing changes, and looking back everything has changed. Everything is different.

Your voice, I can’t remember the day you started talking clearly and your baby voice went away.. I can remember the day I realized it was gone and it broke my heart because I didn’t want to say goodbye to your mumbled vocabulary with the sweet, shrill squeaks in your voice. Why didn’t I notice that it was going away? How could I not?

I can’t remember when your hands grew so big. Before noticing, I can’t remember the last time I really took a good look at your hands.  With buying every new shoe size, how did it not dawn on me how big your feet were getting?

Your smile. All filled with bright shiny teeth. I remember a time when you didn’t have any teeth. You didn’t talk, but we always had a way of communicating. I guess that’s the bond we share. Because as a mom, you will never have to tell me… I always know.

Your personality, it grew into something unfathomable. So sweet, endearing, sassy, and sarcastic. How did I not notice you changing? Because all I know now is that you did. But I wanted to say goodbye to that quiet little boy you once were. I wanted to thank him for staying a while and introduce me to the new boy you are now.

And, sometimes I want to say sorry.
Because you were my first.
Because you were the one  who taught me everything, and are a result of all my mistakes.
Because you were trial and error.
Because I’m still learning who I am, and how to make you who you will be.
Because I forgot to notice you growing.

Because it took me a while to figure this whole “mom” thing out, and every day I am still learning. But I know you forgive me every time I'm a bad mommy, a mean mommy, or a selfish mommy. And I will always forgive you for every time you are a rotten child, a mouthy child, and an entitled child.

But I need you to slow down please, because I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.
Because I’ll never be ready to watch you grow.

 

https://youtu.be/clcNB_EUao8

 

 

 

 

Mothers Day: For the Mom "Like Me" - A Mom after Loss

 

This may or may not be the first year that Mother's day has been like a sour patch kid sidekick.

So painful, yet sweet. Acknowledging the loss of the children you cannot see can be so hard for others, but on the day of the year that we celebrate being mothers- it is so invisible it's painful.

Not because we don't want to acknowledge our children who are not in their earthly forms; but because there is such a sorrow in what is otherwise a beautiful day.

 

What do you get the grieving mom for Mother's Day? What constitutes a grieving mom? Did she lose a child a year ago? Did she lose her child 10 years ago? How long should I acknowledge her other children on these occasions? You know...the children we can't see...

 

Forever. The answer is, forever.

 

Why? Because a mothers love never ceases to exist.

 

Having children is so easily comparable to marriage. Until death do us part. And only those who have lost know, that it never ends there. Does your "paps" stop being your grandfather when he has passed? How about your Nana? No? Well then... My child will always be my child, even if today I cannot hold them in my arms. Even if today I cannot hear them laugh.

 

Even if today I cannot share photos of my favorite moments together.

 

Because I am also the Mother of an Angel (Or two)

 

It is not unwelcomed on Mother's Day for you to celebrate with those Mothers the lives of the children that are not physically here. But, there is such melancholy in celebration. Such pain and sweetness. Such sorrow and rejoice; for several reasons.

 

1. Rejoice that my children are with my God Almighty in a place I cannot fathom in my wildest dreams. Rejoice they may never have to experience any heartache, or the physical hurt of our world.

 

For those of you that have had the opportunity to conceive following the loss of your child, you will understand this one:

 

2. Though I will never forget my children that have gone too soon, it led me to my sweet Mia. It led me to know a whole new love. A love after loss.

 

You see. There are many types of love, but two of which will never be confused. Love before loss, and love after loss. One is no stronger than the other, because I love my children equally; but one is more fierce. It is more bold. It is more understanding, more patient, and more thankful.

 

Love after loss; the love I've had the greatest regret and pleasure in knowing.

 

Because on Mother's Day this year, all the while celebrating like tradition says: eating breakfast with my children, trying to play "nice mommy" while the 4 year old wants to gallivant the restaurant bathroom to poop, my 9 month old has excreted every odor known to man which is now leaking through her pants onto mine. The man next to me is surely wondering how they celebrate moms "like me" who can't manage to get their shit together for a 40 minute trip into the restaurant alone with two kids. You know, the typical mom thing.

 

But "moms like me" aren't identified as the ones who need a break, the ones who don't know if they're doing it right, the ones that think Mothers Day is only for the ones who are worth mentioning. Come on, that's all moms. We're all a mess, We all want well behaved children the waking hours of the day, and the one who has manners, and enough cooth to not announce to the morning crowd their need to defecate, and their specific want to do it in the restaurant rather than the 2 minute drive to papaws.

 

But... "Moms like me" are the ones who repeat to themselves "This is exactly why we aren't having any more children!" and then feel immediate guilt. Because Today I could have had 3 children with me rather than two...

But that would mean that my sweet little 9 month old, the one who so graciously gifted me and the rest of the restaurant with a crinkled nose and a sour stomach; may not have shared today with me.

 

While every day I celebrate being a mom, I spent Mother's Day this year celebrating Mia. Mia has consoled my heart. She has given me the gift as a Mother that I never wanted, and now...Could never do without.

 

A love after loss.

 

The love that knows loss, knows pain, knows regret...and loves even harder! The love that both my children will have the opportunity to experience, but came at such an emotional cost.

 

A love after loss.

 

The love that is independent, is bold and strong, and knows how deep it flows into every essence of motherhood.

 

Happy Mothers Day to the Mom "Like Me" and has been forever blessed and forsaken with the love after loss.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In loving memory of Paisley Marie & Presley Ann

Burrell

 

Born into Eternal Life: September 11, 2014.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The most beautiful piece of me.

The four most beautiful pieces of my soul live outside my body.

 

The four most vulnerable pieces of my soul live outside my body.

 

The four most precious, valuable, and sacred pieces of my soul live outside my body.

 

My children are the most beautiful piece of me.

 

 

This mom life is no joke. It's no creative disaster, it's no day of sunshine, it's nothing like I had imagined amidst entering motherhood. That day a living, breathing, and dependent being is put in your arms .. for me, that was the day I lost myself. I lost myself divinely, purposefully, and whole fully in my child- because you, little one, are a piece of my heart that I never understood, but now it's so clear.

 

Being a Mother is this worlds toughest job. You have the toughest critics, minimal appreciation, and all the while you have given up your heart and soul to walk externally out of your body.

 

I'm not sure about you, but every day I live in fear. A raging and suffocating fear I had never known prior to being a mother. The fear that if something were to ever happen to my children, either one, that I would lose myself.

 I would lose the biggest part of me.

 I would lose my drive.

I would lose my ambitions.

I would lose my happiness

My joy

My pride

All of these pieces of me, live every day in my children.

 

There is so much in motherhood that I could have never imagined existed. Everyone tries to explain to you before your child the love that you are about to know, and they are so negligent in not telling you- It's the greatest and most fulfilling love your heart will ever understand, but... it's terrifying. It is absolutely, positively, terrifying.

Why?

Well, because all at once, sitting in that hospital bed- everything you've ever known or thought you knew about this exact moment was a lie.

 This, this exact split-second in your life where you no longer exist how you did moments ago.

 You are restored. You are fulfilled.

You are new, and brave.

 Scared, and brave.

Absolutely terrified- but damn it, you are so incredibly brave!

Because this world needs more brave.

 

Piece by piece, my children walk with the most incredible parts of me and they have no idea.

No idea how deep my love runs for their smiles, their voices, the innermost parts of what makes them who they are. Beautiful pieces of me.

 

Love,

1/5 of The Beauteous Burrell

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



The Working Mom; Why your exhaustion is beautiful.

 

 

Hey Mama,

I know how you feel.

 

Tired.

Not just kind-of tired. Dog-Tired.

Monotonous.
Bat-shit crazy.

Absent.

Tapped Out.

On the tail end of a Donkey.

Depleted.
Stick-a-fork-in-me-and-call-me-well-done.

 

I feel every [potential baby vomit-tinged] hair on your head when I say I am picking up what you are putting down.

 

-Tired of the sleepless nights, which lead to endless days

-Tired of tantrums, and incessant spills
-Tired of sippy cups with mysteriously no matching godforsaken lid anywhere in this universe.
-Tired of being tattled on by your tiny dictators

-Tired of having your patience tested by the children at home and in your workplace
-Tired of people without children, telling you they're tired
-Tired of smells and messes appearing in your home you never imagined could be created by humans

-Tired of never finding a single matching children's sock in your home, or basically any clean article of clothing

(Only to name a few)
 

 

Oh. and the fucking laundry.

 

  All the while mama, you feel guilty. I feel guilty. Though you love your children beyond the greatest imagination of this world, sometimes you just want to sprint out the door like a fire was ignited in your pants, to a padded room with a straight-jacket; where there will hopefully be another adult who doesn't depend on you, or me and can't even make out any muffled sounds of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, Dora the Explorer, or Spongebob shit-for-brains.

 

You feel guilty for yelling about the spill that was an accident, but is just that much more work for you to take care of. You feel guilty at the thought of even potentially wanting to be alone because for a quick moment you think that if someone else heard your thoughts, you'd be scorned you horribly- selfish mother, you! Guilty because you're a working mom- and because Asshole [With a capital A] is sometimes your first, middle and last name.

 

Guilty because rushing into work this morning you didn't get the chance to rock your child and have a mini-play date even though you KNOW you don't do mornings- but what if that was the last rock your baby ever wanted? What if tomorrow your baby doesn't want rocked anymore and you wasted your damn time away this morning with an extra 20 minutes of 'sleep' which was just really drunkenly closing your eyes. Guilty, selfish mama you!

 

Just when this perfect idea arrives of uninterrupted mornings, private time to take a forbidden shit in your own house, tearless drop off's at daycare- it's gone.

 Because when your so busy working and feeling guilty, mama- time is flying.

That first time baby doesn't cry during the daily episode that could easily be broadcasted on the Morning News as the new Ice-Age Meltdown which notoriously makes you late to work..that first time that those are gone, you will realize that those perfect ideas aren't so appealing anymore.

 

There will be an end to the wants and needs, and ridiculous requests of your tiny dictators, or holding hands across the car with your child.

 

And guess what tired mama? It's coming a hell of a lot sooner than you think.

 

Because when we wish away those unbearable moments that disrupt our routines and schedules...when those moments so reluctantly disappear, so do some of the most treasured ones.

 

 

Some days you feel like you are just too tired to be a good mom. Too tired to be a good and dedicated employee, and FAR beyond too tired to be even a considerably decent wife. Hell, I am not even sure I produced minimum wage work some days, or even acknowledged my husbands faint existence! Too selfish to be a good mom. Too demanding and crazy to be a good mom (Because really- why is a clean kitchen floor so much to fucking ask? Huh!)

 Mama- you are exhausted.
Because the balancing act of being a working mom is demanding and guilt is relentless. And when you're poor, poor husband asks 'why you aren't in the mood anymore' you may just show him the new and improved level of bat-shit crazy!

 

You are feeling guilty because of the moms who make homemade glittery play-dough, and bake exotic confectionaries together on a normal basis. Guilty because you aren't doing enough. Guilty because on your day off you aren't even sure if you fed your children lunch because you were so busy trying to bask in if you were more happy to be off work, or with your babies.

You aren't being enough for your children, or your employer- because you're spread far more thin than even your own patience at this point. But mama, while I know your babies are the center of your world (And so are mine) you're world does not revolve around them. Harsh, but true.

You scold yourself for every plan you have for a successful career because it could take away time from your family. You taunt yourself when you sometimes enjoy being at work because it is the only break you can seemingly catch to have any amount of adult human interaction. You torture yourself with the thought of having your own ambitions while trying to mold your childs.

 

Working mom, you are setting yourself up for a forever short-fall if you believe for one second that you can be everyone's self-righteous and severely inflated opinion of an ideal parent. You don't have to be a perfect parent to be a great parent.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hey mama.

 I just want you to know one thing.

 Your exhaustion is beautiful, because it shows how much you care.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Undeservingly Blessed

 

 

 

 

This morning, on my morning commute I recognized a song. It was a painful and teary-eyed recognition, but it wasn't the tune that caught my attention. The words jumped out of the song like they were being spoke right in front of me. A moment in time where I was stopped in every thought process and someone said- LISTEN TO ME!

 

"You're work on earth is done"

 

 

For one moment, I could not have imagined how powerful that phrase is. That phrase alone sent me spiraling into a million thoughts and understandings about our world, our families, and our responsibilities in our time here on earth and how easily it is gone.

 

 

So if you hadn't guessed, this was an original by Vince Gill, but performed by Keith Whitley "Go rest high on that mountain" I had listened to the song too many times to match tears with, but the most memorable was at my Grandfathers funeral. I was very young and the only thing I specifically recall of this day was how I was walking through the halls of the funeral home and this song came on and even at such a young age I felt such powerful presence with the words.

 

 

Being a mother and wife gives me the greatest happiness in the world, and also the greatest fears I never knew could exist beforehand. I have never once had it put into perspective that living our lives here on earth is for work, it is for purpose. I live day in and day out, almost robotic and routinized. My children deserve more snuggles, and my husband deserves more recognition (he deserves more of other things too, but that is not post appropriate)

 

My family deserves so much more, but some days all I can be is adequate.

 

Some days I just...

 

Wake Up

Get Coffee

Get kids ready

Pack daily bags

Drive to work

Work

Pick up kids

Drive Home

Cook Dinner

Do chores (which is often replaced with everything else BUT chores- let's be honest)

Realistically- Do everything other than chores

Get baths

Get to bed

 

(sneak in snuggles all in between)

 

Pretty typical, and I think to myself. But WHERE...WHERE in there am I serving a purpose to a higher power. At what point in my daily (what seems jam packed) schedule do I "work" for a higher power? I am here to serve a purpose, and I still have yet to discover what that is.... I just spent moments thinking to myself... and in my routines I am serving a purpose. I am working.

 

I am doing my best to raise beautifully minded children that will bring smiles and happiness into this world. Teaching them morals, all the while they are teaching me so much more to apply into my daily life wherever it is I go. The best skill I have yet to master: patience. But they teach me each and every day!

 

"Motherhood is not a hobby, it is a calling

it is not something to do if you can squeeze the time in

it is what GOD gave you time for!"

 

 

As i'm scrolling through my news feed (on facebook of course) I see several posts of moms with their children. Each reads nearly the same along the lines of their child being the biggest blessing to them and God giving them what they didn't know they needed or now what they felt they never deserved.

 

I wish for one moment that I could explain to someone the love that a mother feels for her children. If you think about it, before you gave birth i'm sure everyone told you how incredible it was when you meet them and how deep the connection is and you THINK you understand or know what it will be like, and you haven't the slightest.

 

The moment your hands touch your child in this physical world is the most terrifying, exonerating, blissful and powerful moments you could ever imagine. I thank God (and should thank him much more often than I do) for giving me the greatest blessings that I could never deserve. Thank you for teaching me how to live, because before them I couldn't have been living.

 

THIS is what life is about. THIS is the work I am doing here on earth. I am creating a beautiful life to be a part of a world that will be more beautiful because of that. So when my day comes, and my work on earth is done, I hope my children know how powerful and driven they have made me and that I am so undeniably blessed. So undeservingly blessed. So, So, So incredibly blessed to have been their momma.

 

 

Love,

The Bittersweet Burrell