Mommy Meltdowns & Shitty Work Schedules

WELL....This post is not for the 'always-look-on-the-bright-siders' nor is it for the 'you-do-know-that-there-are-people-who-have-it-worse-than-youers'

That being said, let me give you my work schedule for the past few days.

Tuesday: 830am-10am, 11am-330pm, 630pm-11pm
Wednesday: 830am-1040am, 11am-330pm, 7pm-11pm
Thursday: 930am-1050am, 11am-330pm, 7pm-9m, 1030pm-6am. yes. AM!
Friday: 530pm-9pm
Saturday: 8am-3pm

Total Hours Worked: 47.25

I feel like I'm ALWAYS working. I have a few hours gap here and there, but I'm out from 8 am sometimes not getting home til the next morning. AND I'm missing my kid. I know I'm gonna miss out on something huge. And it kills me. I am tired, I am stressed, and I'm feeling a LITTLE used. BUT, for now, my hands are tied. I need diapers, and formula, aaaaaaand coffee...
I erupt into hot tears of anger when I pause long enough to think about how much time I'm not spending with my son. I feel anxious knowing that I have to leave him in a hurry. This is NOT what I wanted. I did NOT sign up for this...

YES. I know other people work more.
NO. I am not salaried.
NO. I didn't always have my schedule 12 hours in advance.
NO. I am NOT okay with this...but right now, I don't have much of a choice.

SO today, when I went to change Bub's poopy diaper, and he smushed his hand in it, and almost put it in his face, and smeared it all over the blanket he was laying on, and tried to crawl away, and a myriad of other things, I lost it.

"DON'T YOU DARE! THERE'S POOP INVOLVED!" Classy right? NOT. Those are not the words of a kind and sweet and gentle mother. They are the words of a sleep deprived, upset, and resentful mother(not resentful towards him, DUH, but towards work, the stupid, fucking, necessary evil.)

I did NOT have that shit contained. We ended up in the bathtub, where he screamed bloody murder as I hosed him off. Did I mention he was up at 6, and didn't go down for a nap til 2? (norm is up at 7 and nap at noon) I didn't? Oh, well, imagine being an almost 2 year old, sleepy as heck, and covered in your own shit, WHILE your tired, pissy, mother sprays you with the detachable shower head. Not a great reenactment of the Johnson's&Johnson's night time routine seen in their commercials (Anyone else called bullshit on those?)

Finally cleaned, and a charade to get a clean diaper back on him. I threw the shitty sheets in the wash, and laid him down next to me on the couch. I looked over and he was PASSED OUT.

I put him in his crib, shake of the mommy guilt as best I can, and am about to veg out on some netflix, youtube, and some serious de-stressing, when guess who calls?

It's work. Telling me that I need to work the holiday.

Being a Special Needs Mom

*******This post is probably THE MOST personal and vulnerable I will EVER get. Please respect that. Any hateful or rude comments will be deleted, and you will be blocked for GOOD. 

Any mom can tell you that having a child introduces you to a level of love that was unfathomable up until that point. You imagine having a child with special needs and having a child that is typical of development are much the same. It is happy, exciting, scary, thrilling, and so much more.

But having a child with special needs also feels guilty, sad, and almost a tad cheated. Because you have a baby that is just as cute and as tall or as chunky as your friends baby, or your coworkers baby, or that baby in the Johnson's and Johnson's commercial. You have the same boob transformation as any other breastfeeding mama, and the same emotional ups and downs postpartum. You also realize that at some point, those so looked-forward to emails about baby's progress, and the "What To Expect" milestone breakdowns don't quite match up with your baby's.

You spend the next chunk of time pretending. Hovering between denial and anger. Not all mama's have experience working in the developmental disabilities field, but you did. You never expect that it will be YOUR baby. You never think that it's going to affect YOUR life that way. You ALMOST convince yourself that you're only seeing the signs because of your work history. And that may last longer than it should, but you know. You know deep down that something isn't quite right. 

You'll have friends, or kiddos in baby groups that are just weeks or months apart in chronological age. And when they're really little, it won't be as big of a difference. They will take a little longer to sit unsupported, and a case can be made that they're just a picky eater. But their kids will get older, as will yours, and the differences will become more pronounced. You start to resent those emails you subscribed to in excitement and eagerness while you were pregnant, that now seem taunting in their subject lines of, "Baby is x months old and is doing..." You may even pop the backspace button off the keyboard once or twice with the force put behind your deliberate move.

Eventually, your anger is redirected to the pedi, who dismissed your concerns as 'kids develop in their own time". The next well-check comes, and you insist that there is SOMETHING wrong. So you get the recommendation to see every specialist and therapist you can imagine. You finally get the confirmation that you were right all along. The only thing that keeps you from dropping to your knees and succumbing to a full-body sob, is knowing that your son is watching you. And while the moment is bittersweet, you can't help but begin to mourn for the child you planned for during those nine months, and every day after they were born.

You'll morn for the dreams of hearing them say, "I love you", even though they will tell you in their own way. You'll cry at the unfairness of the situation. You'll experience more emotions than you have in your entire life put together. But, you'll pick yourself up, brush yourself off, and do what you have to do. Albeit not always gracefully. You will be happy for your friend's kids, and smile at their hilarious talking. But in the back of your mind, you still mourn for this person your baby almost was. You will feel guilty for feeling upset. You will feel inadequate, and wonder if they would've been better off with older, more established parents. But that all melts away when they smile at you. Or hold your hand. Or do something that may seem ordinary to anyone else, but you know exactly what they're trying to tell you. Soon, you'll stop mourning, for the most part, but you'll see your almost little boy every now and then.

If you haven't already, you'll make a point to tell your friends and family about what's going on. Fear of judgement, not understanding, and even pity, linger as you talk. They will try to be helpful and tell you they understand, but they don't REALLY get it. BUT, then you stumble across a story of a mother who had to give birth to a baby that was sick, or worse, incompatible with life, and you feel blessed. You ARE blessed. Every parent is.

But on the flip side, you'll see on Facebook more than one proud mom posting their child's latest milestone, or a story about them talking back ("You don't tell mama 'no'"  "Oh, I TELL mama No!"), OR even their kid patting them on the stomach and calling them 'squishy'.   You feel jealous that they are talking and walking and eating, and can realize what parts of their parents are squishy. BUT  you will soon realize that having a toddler who thinks you're perfect, is kind of perfect.

And that even though you may not have heard them say the words "I love you" when you say the same thing, that when they smirk and pull away (or dive into your arms) that he's saying "I know, mama. I love you too". You start counting the ways he shows you what he's thinking, instead of all the foods he wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. He looks at you one night and the baby babble of "mamamama aahahhh ba" sounds like 'mama' clear as day for the first time, and you think to yourself, 

"Maybe.....maybe. It's going to be JUST fine."

xo

Erika

Breakfast Omlette Cupcakes

Hey loves, I wanted a quick and easy breakfast that still had some substance to it...and I ended up with breakfast cupcakes! They are versitile, quick, and super yummy!!

I started off cooking some bacon in the microwave. I only cooked it half way. Dab out the grease!

 Then while that was cooking, I sliced up some bell pepper(I used a half, because I didn't check to see if I had all I needed and only had 5 eggs SOOO only 5 cupcakes this time..)

 Once the bacon was done and dabbed, I cut each strip in half and cris-crossed them in a muffin tin.

Then, I cracked an egg in each cup, whisking it lightly with a fork to 'scramble' them. Then the diced bell peppers went in. You can add whatever you want. I just didn't have much on hand. I recommend mushrooms, and avocado. Whatever you'd put in an omlette:)

As you can see, I didn't check how many eggs I had. I just took the bacon from the 6th cup, put one piece in each open cup to have on it's own

I baked them at 325°F for 3 minutes, but they needed more time so I put them in for another two on 'broil' so I was getting more concentrated heat from above

Ta Da!!

Pull on the bacon to pop 'em out. If they don't pop out easily,  run a butter knife around the cup and they should pop out :) I'm making a ton after I pick up some reinforcements from the market so I can freeze them and just nuke them in the mornings:) 

Hope you enjoy!

Xo

Erika

Do You Measure Up?

Do you remember when your parents measured your height on a growth chart, or a door frame? My dad did. Mine was on the post of our bunk beds.

He had me stand against the wall, feet flat, and tall as I could. He'd hold a ruler up to make sure it was my true height. That little sharpie mark was SO cool. I was a centimeter, inch, a tiny little bit, taller and I was PROUD. Between the measurements, I'd run up, hold my hand at the top of my head, and try to see if I'd grown. My dad didn't measure me against my sister, even though we had our marks side by side. He didn't measure me against himself, or my best friend. I was only measured against MYSELF. When did I lose this mentality?

When you measure your growth, be it personal, emotional, business wise, or anything else, ONLY measure yourself against your past self. If you compare yourself to someone else, how is that being fair to you? How is that helpful? Don't compare your relationships, successes, businesses, families, friends, body, mind or ANYTHING else against others. YOU are your ONLY competition. When you start comparing yourself, that's when the joy dies. Whatever you focus on in your life E X P A N D S. If you're constantly talking negatively to yourself (out loud or in your head) that will only bring you down. If you focus on the positive, you'll see it everywhere (like the people who buy a new car, and suddenly see it all over the place)

Start a gratitude journal. It can be on napkins, envelopes, a one subject notebook, or a fancy leather bound one. I don't care where, just write. Every morning or night, sit for five minutes in quiet with no distractions and reflect on the past 24 hours. Write down 3 or more things you're grateful for. Do it for a week and I promise you'll see some positive mojo happen. Do it for a year? Can you imagine? 

The way you treat yourself sets the standard for the amount of dignity and respect you expect from others. 

Imagine the effect positive thinking can have. So, when you look back in a year, will you measure up?

My guess is that you will. Strive for progress instead of perfection, and I think you'll turn out just fine.

xo

Erika