Two times this week, different women have referred to me as Wonder Woman. And while I know they’re complementing me, I can’t help but feel guilty for tricking them into thinking I have my shit together. Cause I don’t.
Something that I’m constantly preaching is being more open with women about the struggles we face. I thought I was doing a pretty good job of sharing what a hot mess I am but apparently, I’m not being open enough. Those of you around me regularly see it. I talk openly about my struggles. However, those of you who only experience me on social media see funny memes, lots of kid pictures and soapbox rants. You don’t see the depression I work so hard to manage. You don’t see me monopolizing book club so I can talk about how hard it is to be a wife and mom.
Let me tell you about some of my struggles.
I’m insanely strict with diet and exercise. Basically, I’m obsessed with my weight. I force myself to work out when I don’t want to and I only eat pizza on Saturdays. And I love pizza.
My son has ADHD. I used to think this was a bullshit diagnosis for parents who didn’t know how to give their kid stability or a schedule. There I said it. I used to judge the crap out of people whose kids were diagnosed with disorders. Even though I was diagnosed with one at a young age. And then I became a parent. And I started to understand.
I take on too much. I fill up my calendar and then stare at it every Sunday wondering how I’m going to get it all accomplished. I fall into bed every night completely exhausted when I should be snuggling up to Matty on the couch and cherishing my loving husband.
I throw away legos (really lots of things) and then I lie to my kids about it. I hate clutter and paper and little tiny pieces of things and so I throw them away. Oliver peeks into the recycling bin sometimes and sees pictures he’s drawn and asks why I would get rid of them. I just flat out lie and tell him I have no idea how they ended up in there.
I don’t send my kids up for children’s time anymore. Many months ago, my boys were fighting during church. Our pastor said to one of them, “Don’t punch your brother” and because he was mic’d, the entire congregation heard it. I was so embarrassed. My kids haven’t gone up for children’s time since. Matt takes them out and walks around with them while all the other kids are up front and then walks them to Sunday school. It took me almost a month to return to church after that happened.
My dogs spend way more time in their kennel than they should. Moses can’t control his bladder anymore. We’ll let him outside and he’ll come back inside and pee all over the floor. Because of that, we keep him and Norman kenneled a lot. And it makes me feel awful.
I give unsolicited advice and I cuss like a sailor. I laugh way too hard at my own jokes and I think my way is usually best.
I went to the doctor today to have a physical and I had to have blood drawn. The nurse couldn’t fill the vile the first time so she had to prick me again on my other arm. I almost started crying. I’ve had three babies (one with no drugs) and even the thought of a needle makes me uncomfortable.
OK. That’s enough for now. I do want you to think I at least have some things together 😉