I see you...

Fair warning... this post is not for the faint of heart or easily grossed out... This is my life. A life of a mom.

But you know... sometimes there are days when I just don't want to hear one more, "mom!!" or anything of the sort for the rest of the day. This includes ma, mama, madre, mamita, mamasita, mum, mummy, mommy... Like right now my three year old is screaming my name very panicky and somewhat hysterically from the bathroom because his 'poop is going in the water'. W. T. F. We've been potty trained for quite some time. After three times of going into the bathroom I told him that I'm done. I didn't want to talk about his poop anymore (besides here obviously). I was also checking to make sure he wasn't in fact touching his poop with the toilet scrub brush... again. This morning I went to clean the toilet and bathroom before company came over. Guess what I found... I found a decent amount of poop on the brush. Like a whole episode of pooping amount of poop on the brush. Seriously?!? That went out to the trash. The whole brush and holder. Disgusting. I wanted to know why and when but really I don't. I then scrubbed with a different brush, mopped, etc. Really I just wanted to bleach everything in site... but well... I can't bleach anything without bleaching myself. I couldn't fathom getting bleach cleaner on my new Seahawks shirt. Sigh.

Friday night consisted of being vomited on by the one year old. Like all over my chest as we were walking out of his bedroom. I Matrixed my stance and balanced a puking baby, the puke and whatever dignity I had left all the way to the laundry room as I yelled for Chris to please come help me. I think one of the most terrifying moments for me was trying to get my shirt off without getting it on my face or in my hair. When your hair is practically down to your butt the last thing you want to do is get anything like that in your hair. By the time I stripped me down, stripped the baby down (after using his jammied foot to get liquid off of my chest) and started the shower I had no dignity left. None. But I did have a mission. Clean baby. Clean mom. No more vomit. Success. 

Being a mother is probably my greatest accomplishment and most difficult at times. Please don't get me wrong... if a lot of poop on the end of the toilet brush is the worst of it... I'm not so bad off. I know that... but no matter who you are or where you are... being a mom is hard sometimes. Being a mom is exhausting. This week I had a moment when I really just wanted to hug a woman who very obviously had a rough moment of being a mom. I posted on a local Facebook page in hopes that she'd see it. In the moment I just couldn't muster up enough of a clear thought to say anything. That and well... I chickened out. What I really wanted to do, in the moment, was scold her teenage daughter for being so incredibly disrespectful. I didn't have enough perspective in the moment to feel for her as a mother because I only saw her daughters misbehavior. I wanted her to know that what I saw wasn't a reflection of her parenting to me. I realized that in that moment she probably just needed to hear that I understood her. That I knew that her daughters lack of respect didn't really have anything to do with her parenting per se. That I know some children are more difficult than others. That sometimes our children make poor choices. I wanted her to know that I saw her as a mom ,no matter what any of us saw, I knew she was a good mother. (I could see her groceries. Told me everything I needed to know. Just kidding...LOL) But really I think that sometimes we are so quick to pass judgment on anyone who is different from us whether it's the way we parent, discipline, feed, guide, how our children behave, etc. But who am I to say anything? I'm just me. The oldest of many children, a mom, an aunt, a niece... I have my own experiences. Some failures and some successes. (i.e. Puking child turned clean). I have figured out what works for me (most of the time) but I'm learning new things daily.

More recently some friends of ours unknowingly touched a part of my heart that I don't really ever talk about. In conversation, Q & A's, they said they thought I was a great mom. I wanted to cry. Right there, barefooted and a baby on my hip, in the middle of their kitchen I wanted to burst into tears. Part of it was the hormones of being a woman and tired mother, part of it was the moment and part of it was because I think that sometimes, just like in my experience earlier in the week, it's not heard as often as our hearts need to hear. It wasn't an "oh you're such a great mom!" in a cheesy-you-have-to-say-it way. It was the intent and sincerity behind the words. I knew that when they said it, in that  moment, it was how they really felt.

It's not always the suggestion or voice of perception but really about the timing. (Just so you know, you two had perfect timing. Thank you for telling me that what you think I'm doing is not less than acceptable. ;) You two will make great parents when you're ready... and I can't wait to watch the two of you grow in way that will far exceed anything you ever thought  you could do.)

I guess right now I just wanted to make sure that all wonderful mom, mommy, mummy, mamasita, mamita, madres, mami's of the world know that I see you. You're doing alright. :) Even when you think you couldn't be any more "off"... you're probably right "on". And whether your single, taken, complicated, working, a SAHM, a grammy, a nana, an aunt, a sister... What you're doing couldn't be any more important and life has been forever changed because of what you do and have done. I see you.

And at this very moment (because I'm too lazy to go back through this blog and change some titles and stuff) I think it is just as equally important to point out that it's not just mom's. I know that there are plenty of dad's, grandfathers, uncles, and brothers that are taking care of children. Raising and guiding. Helping with homework, potty training, putting on jammies and reading stories. You are also helping teach life lessons and helping our youth learn right from wrong. I see you too.

Rock your shit awesome parents of the world! Keep kicking ass at your parenting. Even if your kids puke on you and you want to cry. Or puke also. 

Fishing & My Brother

So I spent much of my childhood fishing.

In all honesty most of my happiest memories are when I was fishing. Fishing on my Poppi's property in Illinois. Fishing on my aunt's boat in Washington. Fishing on a rented boat at Lake Pleasant in Arizona. Fishing, swimming, rafting, catching frogs, asking my Poppi or aunts what things were when they cleaned fish...

As soon as I could fly alone (5 yrs) I was on a plane and visiting my family. Illinois and Washington were big parts of my childhood. Most of my memories in Illinois are nothing but fulfilling. I spent my summers with my younger brother, Dustyn, catching and filling jars with fire flies (which we would let go before the night was over), crossing a plank to get to the "island" so we could fish the pond, having watermelon eating races, riding on my Poppi's lawn mower to "help" cut the grass, and checking out their garden to see what fun things they were growing that summer.

Mostly, we only ever caught bluegill in his pond. He taught my brother and I how to handle bluegill so we didn't get spined, how to unhook a fish, which ones were keepers and which ones we should let go. I never wore shoes. Ever. I hated wearing shoes and still do to some extent. I'd run around on his property with my nightshirt tied in a knot at my knees. I'd spend hours down by the water catching frogs or I'd grab my pole and just get to it.

I don't have any photos of myself on hand (I'm sure my mom's got one somewhere that I may go hunt down). But this photo of my brother is what I remember of the pond, the "island" and the shoreline. Looking at his outfit I kind of giggle a little. Today it might not be as obvious but we grew up a little country. We spent a good chunk of our childhood outside on 3.5 acres with horses, pigs, chickens, dogs, cats... at one point we had a cow. We grew up with weekend bonfires, country music, trail rides, rodeos, parades our parents rode in, dust storms that would put today's AZ dust storms to shame, exploring the wash at the end of our dead end street and "picnicking" in the desert. LOL

I haven't been fishing in a loooooong time. Longer than I care to admit. There are days when it's sunny and the weather is just perfect. Those are the days that I'd give just about anything to drop of my kids and everything I should be doing to get myself out on a lake. There are some serious refreshers I'd need to brush up on but I know it wouldn't take much. To sit out on the boat and listen to the water lapping the sides and nobody saying a single freaking word. Silence besides maybe a bird or something. Dragonfly's would land on the end of the pole or on my line and then there'd be a slight tug and a another little tug and then... I'D HOOK THAT SUCKER! :)

Sometimes I really miss the carefree moments of my childhood. Before I grew up and had to be an adult. Sometimes I really miss my brother. My brother was my best friend and my worst enemy. LOL We stood up for each other. Fought each other. Taunted each other and protected each other. I was always bossy and sometimes I still am (oldest of 8 kids - it's in my nature) but there has never a moment that I didn't love him. Even if I didn't always like him. LOL

My relationship with my brother is still there but life has worked its way around. We live in different states and life experiences have changed us both. We don't talk very often or see each other but maybe once or twice a year. I just hope that as time progresses and our children start to grow older we can spend more time together and can teach our children the ins and outs of being a child the way we were children. Our Poppi isn't here anymore and that life will be harder to show them but my aunts and Washington are very much still a part of my life and I hope that in time I'll remember to make time. Make time to show them that tv, video games and tablets aren't all that is fun in the world.

Life becomes so hectic and I think that sometimes we forget that we're suppose to enjoy even the little things. We're supposed to enjoy life outside of the box. :)

A Mother's Love. My Love.

Well... Here we are again. A little over two years later from when I originally said I was going to start a blog. Ha! Isn't that just like me to start some sort of project and not complete it though? Yes... yes. I have a list going of the "started" projects that I intend to COMPLETE by the end of 2015. A little under 4 months should be plenty right? RIGHT?!? We'll see. ;)

A lot has changed and then sometimes not as much has changed. I suppose I named my blog "Blathering Hearts" because at times I'm often rambling. Seems like I can't keep my brain on a one way track. But... that's okay... My train of thought is my own and it works for me. Most of the time.

My aunt and I have talked on more than one occasion about me writing a book with all of the ins and outs of my motherhood experiences. I feel like there are a ton of blogs and mom's who are writing about it all though. Which is awesome. Makes me feel like I'm not so alone. Not long ago I was told by someone that she appreciated my honesty in my Facebook status updates. That it made her not feel alone. That made my day. If the trials and triumphs of my day can help someone smile and not feel like they're in it alone... well... I'm happy to offer a little insight to my life. And here we are... in my blog that I started on a few different occasions (each time with a different intention LOL Psh.... we'll see how long this one lasts... haha!)

Where we are today.... Today we are no longer in AZ and moved 1200 miles away in January 2014. Moving, in itself, was no easy feat. It was a lot of work. A lot of planning. A lot of tears. A lot of being tired. I had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. At the time I was also pregnant with our newest baby. Baby T just turned ONE. ONE... and at this time I'm trying to soak up every bit of his babyness. He and I have bonded in a special way and I think it's because he is probably our last one. Raising three boys can be a monster at times... but Lord knows I love them to pieces and wouldn't trade them for anything. Though I might not mind a break every now and then. Aunts and Mamaw's are a saving grace sometimes. What would I do without them? <3

B-Man will be starting 6th grade. Moving on up to middle school. I'm happy for him to be growing up (sad at times too). I'm proud of the young man he's becoming. He's responsible, a great big brother, loves me even when he hates me, is smart, caring, compassionate. I'm not really good at telling him those things. I try sometimes... and sometimes he looks at me like I've grown a third eye when I make that attempt. Sorry my man... yes, your mother is socially awkward at times... even to you. {shrugs} So I've started texting him. I'm much better at writing than talking. I know it isn't the same but I want him to know even if it's only in a text. (Our reasons for him having a phone are our own... and he's good with his responsibility of it. It doesn't rule his life and it isn't a battle. Yet.)

E-Baby, who's not a baby anymore and tells me to not call him Peanut when I use that name, is three. Three years of all boy, all jumping and throwing and fighting and yelling and screaming and dirt and grime and whining and hugs and love and full of life. He's adventurous and proud and tells me he loves me and this morning asked me to carry him to the bathroom just before 6am. And for a brief second I got to hold him like the small boy that he is. I got to feel his arms around my neck and his head on my shoulder without him yelling, rough-housing, throwing or screaming. In that moment he was my baby boy all over again.

In these moments, when I'm sitting alone in another room for a few minutes I get to think on where I've been, where I'm at, and where we may be headed. This week, almost every day, at 6pm I want to jump in my car and lock the doors just to get some silence. The noise in this house at 6pm is like you've walked into a war zone. Absolutely chaotic. :) But then 10pm rolls around and I'm laying in bed thinking about all of the things that I could've done better and I lay there hoping that my three boys know that I love them. Unconditionally. To the moon. And I  know that even if there are days when I could've done better or I think I've screwed up... I'm still a great mom. I try to be better than I was the day before and I try to practice my patience (though that can be a struggle). I do the best I can and I try to remember that these years will pass; they'll be grown men someday. They won't be my little babies/boys in the sense that they are now. Not with little hands, little feet or baby fine hair... They'll be too old or too cool to hold my hand or give me a kiss... but I'll still be their mom. I'll always be their mom. I'll always be the one that they'll turn to when they need what only I can give them. A mother's love.