Changing Pace

I thought I knew exactly who I was. I knew what I wanted. I had everything I had ever asked for out of life, and I still wasn't happy.

When you're a little girl, you dream about being a mommy. How you are going to raise your kids, how you will be different, or the same as your own parents. What your house is going to look like, what it will smell like. Traditions. Vacations. Children's names.

And then like a twitch of Jeannie's nose you are there. BAM. But, it's not what it was supposed to be. Your kids are actually human beings who don't conform to all of your expectations, you are just like your parents in the ways you said you'd never be, and couldn't imagine doing the things you thought you'd do. Your house looks completely different and a whole lot messier than you imagined, and it smells like there's a missing sippy cup of milk somewhere that you may never find. You are too tired for traditions, and the only vacation you can imagine having enough energy or money for is the one you took in your dreams last night. Your husband has a totally different list of baby names and they all sucked and now you're wearing a mom bun, in your LuLaRoe Leggings because it's all that fit the main requirements...

1. They still go on over your mom pouch.
2. They have the least amount of "funk," i.e. puke, spit up, breastmilk, urine, feces or worse.

You are standing in the middle of literal mountains of laundry, dishes from yesterday, and a screaming kid. And bless that child, you love them with all of the body parts you can name, and then some, but the only thing you can think of is bedtime. Because bedtime means you can FINALLY sit down with a glass of wine, or a hot cup of coffee, and at this point you don't even care which, because odds are, your coffee was cold and you aren't gonna sleep anyway. And either will go with the leftovers you know you are going to be eating half cold, half scalding because the microwave still kind of works so replacing it isn't on the top of the priority list.

That was me. Every single day. Add a few screaming kids and a work-a-holic husband to the mix. A few pets, way more pet hair than you thought they would ever shed in your entire ownership, and a few attempted friendships in the mix for good measure. It was everything I had asked for, and yet I was secretly miserable.

I told myself that I loved it. That it was temporary and that I was doing what was best for my children. I reminded myself EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. that this is EXACTLY what I asked for. I asked for every one of these four kids. As a matter of fact, I did more than just ask, I got down on my knees and PRAYED for every single one of them. I begged and fought my husband over the number of children we had, and even though I finally felt content with my family size, I still felt incomplete.

It was more than that. I didn't just feel incomplete. I was. I had done it all. I breastfed, I bottle fed. I cloth diapered, I went back to disposables. I went organic, I let them eat McDonald's. I drove the minivan, I bought the house. I had the Pinterest Worthy Nursery. I volunteered at the school, I read to the class, I did the homework, Helped with the projects. I meal planned. I learned to bake. I found alone time. I learned to love reading. I convinced myself to give up beer and become a wine lover. I went to the gym, I said screw the gym and ate more chocolate. I lost the weight anyway, I gained it all back. several times. I got lost in social media, got addicted to relationships in TV dramas. I fought with my husband, we went to marriage counseling. And here I was, in-com-plete.

I begged God to tell me what to do to fix it. I hated being the angry mommy, I loathed the days where all I wanted was to cry. And when He told me how to fix it, I told Him that wasn't what I wanted. But something broke halfway through my last pregnancy.

I broke. It was me.

I was done. I couldn't keep living this life, and I had to admit that everything I ever wanted wasn't what I wanted at all. I was wrong. I took the wrong path. My parents were right, I couldn't be a stay-at-home mom for my entire adult life. And let's be clear, that was the hardest part of all of it.

And I looked my husband in the face and said, I need more. Never in my life could I have imagined that this boy I somehow fell in love with, who had transformed into this amazing person with patience and love for me even when I was unbearable to myself, who loved me more than I ever thought someone could love a person so controlling and irritating and irrational would not only support me but encourage me.

He spoke life into me again. He pushed me beyond what I thought I could be and he moved mountains just to fulfill one more of my dreams. And the entire time he told me how amazing I was. How proud he was of ME. And together we birthed something bigger than both of us. A business.

A business that helps our family as much as it helps our community. A business that is just beginning and is already growing beyond what I ever thought I could handle or create. I have taken every part of my journey and found a way for it to help others. And the day my doors opened I learned something about myself.

I wasn't wrong. They weren't right about me. This whole time I was on the right path. I couldn't be comfortable doing only part of what was meant for my life. I couldn't be happy and content because I wouldn't have pushed further. I was only looking at part of the picture, and I have finally found the beginning of my Happily Ever After.

Postpartum Depression, Anxiety, Breastfeeding, Bottle Feeding, different parenting styles, different stages, friendships and experiences, they all led me to be the person I was destined to become, and they all helped me to turn around and help someone else see the light at the end of their own tunnel. They all helped me be a better mother. They helped me be a better wife, a better woman, and a better friend.

Sometimes you just need a change of pace to see a little more of the full picture.

I know it's hard. I know it doesn't seem worth it some days. Like making it to bedtime is impossible, but trust me when I say, You can do it. And if you just simply can't anymore, that's OK, too. You got this, Mama. You rocked that Mom Bun today. You deserve that wine. And tonight I raise my glass to you in solidarity.