I'm fed up too.

When I was a little girl, maybe 8 or 9, I used to sit on the bathroom counter in our house, and very carefully apply lipstick, a bright pink headband, and comb my very long hair just perfect. Then I'd sit there and look in the mirror, wishing with all my might that I'd turn into Aurora, the princess from Sleeping Beauty. I was painfully aware that I didn't have big, almond shaped eyes, beautiful, perfect curls, smooth creamy skin, or a tall, thin body. I was kind of an awkward kid. But I hoped with all my might that someday I'd turn into that beautiful princess and meet my prince.

I think most little girls do this.

Then we grow up finally and realize there is no prince, and we are no princess.

But, my point here is that what I see on tv, and in movies, and in photos (hellooooo photoshop) makes me cringe. Apparently it's NOT OK to be IMperfect. And maybe not for everyone, but for me, there is still that disappointed little girl somewhere inside me asking why she can't be pretty the way she is? Why must she be perfect to be pretty?

No one ever told me I wasn't good enough, but somehow I got that message as a kid. I'm trying my best to protect my girls from that, but it's already starting. "I wish my hair was _____. I wish my eyes weren't_______."

The horrible message on social media is that if you aren't perfect, and have all the latest stuff, you aren't cool, you aren't popular, and you sure as heck aren't pretty.

Anyway, I applaud Jennifer Aniston for speaking out against jerks who assume things and print whatever they want. (you can read her article here.) She may be in the public eye, but that gives paparazzi no right to assume what they want and print it just for more sales. Goes hand in hand with tv journalism and how reporting no longer is about digging for the truth, but reporting what they want and putting their own spin to boost ratings.

Which is really concerning considering the events that have recently taken place.

I'm fed up too.

When I was a little girl, maybe 8 or 9, I used to sit on the bathroom counter in our house, and very carefully apply lipstick, a bright pink headband, and comb my very long hair just perfect. Then I'd sit there and look in the mirror, wishing with all my might that I'd turn into Aurora, the princess from Sleeping Beauty. I was painfully aware that I didn't have big, almond shaped eyes, beautiful, perfect curls, smooth creamy skin, or a tall, thin body. I was kind of an awkward kid. But I hoped with all my might that someday I'd turn into that beautiful princess and meet my prince.

I think most little girls do this.

Then we grow up finally and realize there is no prince, and we are no princess.

But, my point here is that what I see on tv, and in movies, and in photos (hellooooo photoshop) makes me cringe. Apparently it's NOT OK to be IMperfect. And maybe not for everyone, but for me, there is still that disappointed little girl somewhere inside me asking why she can't be pretty the way she is? Why must she be perfect to be pretty?

No one ever told me I wasn't good enough, but somehow I got that message as a kid. I'm trying my best to protect my girls from that, but it's already starting. "I wish my hair was _____. I wish my eyes weren't_______."

The horrible message on social media is that if you aren't perfect, and have all the latest stuff, you aren't cool, you aren't popular, and you sure as heck aren't pretty.

Anyway, I applaud Jennifer Aniston for speaking out against jerks who assume things and print whatever they want. (you can read her article here.) She may be in the public eye, but that gives paparazzi no right to assume what they want and print it just for more sales. Goes hand in hand with tv journalism and how reporting no longer is about digging for the truth, but reporting what they want and putting their own spin to boost ratings.

Which is really concerning considering the events that have recently taken place.

Feeling lost as a Stay-At-Home Mom

This morning my kids got up at the usual 5 a.m. I'm not exaggerating. For some reason, since they were babies, they've been waking at 5 a.m. 

Anyway, that's not the story. The story is that to occupy my 3 year old son, my 7 year old daughter got out the moon sand.  It doesn't look as bad in this pic as in real life. To get each of those toys, my son ran his little body covered in sand each time to his playroom. Through the living room. With rugs and things that shouldn't see sand. Like leather couches.

After spending an hour sweeping, vacuuming, and wiping up moon sand, I know that someday when I'm 90 years old, lying on the floor in the kitchen, frantically pressing my life alert button because I've fallen and I can't get up, I will be finding the devil's piss moon sand wedged under the cabinets.

Well, by the time I was done cleaning, I was in a bad place. Most of you moms know the place. A place where everyone knows your name- Ha, now the Cheers theme song is playing in my head. Anyway, It's all too familiar.  

You feel like all you do is clean, all you are good for is to wipe up dry sticky milk and cheerios that someone left on the table. Your only value is finding and wiping up some unidentified smelly green slime out of the back of the refrigerator. Your only merit is cleaning up the cemented toothpaste smears all over the counter....every morning. Your only virtue is cleaning out the overflowing junk drawer and realizing that small victory is the only tangible thing you've accomplished all say, amid breaking up fights, changing diapers, giving baths and picking up the legos under the couch for the 502nd time. You feel like you lose your identity slowly over lost socks, permission slips, dust bunnies, bottles, and late night feedings. I feel like my only value these days is the cleanliness of my house, and trying to make good dinners for the family. I feel like I'm being forced every day to clean up after a party that I really wanted to go to, but no one invited me. I feel honestly like no one sees me. Like the house magically gets clean, everyone is magically fed, and everything runs like clockwork with no one seeing the underpaid hamster desperately running the wheel inside that clock, keeping everything going.

I feel like since I don't have validation in the form of a paycheck, or quarterly reviews, what I do all day doesn't matter. 

I know it's not true, but I feel that way sometimes. Life runs away with you when you are a stay at home mom. It really does. Time really has no meaning anymore. It seems as if the days run together. As me what day it is, and honestly, unless it's the relief of school starting again on a precious Monday, I won't know. 

I get it. I know how you feel. I'm a veteran stay at home mom. I've been staying at home now for 8 years. I haven't peed in peace in my own home since my first child was born, 16 years ago. Ok, there's been a few times since then. But not many. To have a nice "bathroom break" now, I need to lock my bedroom door, then run into the bathroom and lock that door too. Then I crank the fan, and frantically play candy crush until I'm done. Motherhood has made me a champion fast pooper. If only there was a poop olympics, I'd feel good at something. At least I'd have a medal!

I've also been a working mom and I tell ya, that's a whole 'nother blog post. I'll get to that someday. 

Anyway, my point to this is, if you're a SAHM, know that you're not the only one who feels this way. All of us do at one point. And if you don't, you're obviously some golden unicorn barfing butterflies everywhere and you have no purpose here.

So, I want to hear what you do to help combat these feelings. Myself? I pedal furiously on my exercise bike while the kids watch Dora. Furiously. I bought a bike computer to see just how much my frustration equaled into miles traveled, and it turns out that clearing my head and feeling whole again has the energy equivalent of 20 miles per hour.........

I guess I really am kind of like the hamster on the wheel.