Some Things Never Change

Do you ever notice that we never really grow out of our society enforced insecurities? When we grow up we think that we won’t care what others think and we’ll finally be able to be who we want to be. Wrong. As we grow into adults there are more and more pressures upon us to be a certain way. If you don’t fit into these molds, Lord help you. Then the trickiest part of all happens… You fall into one of these molds, but you’re still not accepted by the other people in these molds. What now?

I’ve spent most of my adult life now trying to find which mold I belong to. I’ve never quite fit in anywhere really and when I feel that I finally do it’s made very clear that I don’t and never really did. I would change who I was a little bit each time thinking it would help. If I changed to the mold, they would have to accept me, right? So I would just try again, and again… and again. Until I decided that I don’t care. I’m tired of trying to fit into a specific group. Why can’t I just be who I am and not what society thinks I should be? That makes sense, right? I was starting to forget who I was to begin with. When I was a teenager I didn’t care about all of this mold nonsense.

So I started to think about how I was in high school. I thought about my attitude towards fashion and how I wore what I wanted. I didn’t follow the “do’s and don’ts” of fashion. I didn’t care what prints were in and what colors we should wear this season. If I like my clothes, why should I only wear them when they’re popular to other people? Isn’t the point of wearing something, because you like it not because the rest of the world is wearing it too?

Honestly, I have some short and skinny girl problems. I have longer legs and a shorter torso. I have a larger chest for being so skinny. Now I have larger hips and a larger butt from having my two kids. My shoulders are kind of broad, so I don’t look good in strapless or spaghetti strap items. I find that finding clothes in today’s women’s fashion make me look like a saggy chested box. So I decided that to ditch the mold of the “adult mom look” and went back to my old clothes. They fit. I know this. I don’t look frumpy. Everything shows off my figure appropriately. Most importantly I feel comfortable in my own skin. I’m not trying to fit in. I’m just being me.

I’m done fighting to find my mold. I’m creating my own. I’m done worrying about the little things that we’ve been told to worry about. I don’t care if “this outfit makes me look fat” or if “this color is in season,” or if hair style is on point. I just don’t care anymore. I don’t need to wear make up to feel good about myself. I’m not going to worry about if people think I look pregnant, because I don’t have time to workout with two little ones running around. I don’t care about it, so why should I care what others think? They don’t have to live in my skin. I do. All that matters is if I’m comfortable. It took me a long time to figure that out. I’m not sure how I lost that information to begin with. I’m never going to be super confident, but I will learn to love myself more and more. At the end of the day that’s all that matters. I like who I am and if other people want to be around me they will like me for me too.

Intoxication

The air was electric. 
Every hair on my body stood on end.
The anticipation was like a drug,
I needed more.
The band started playing.
Sparks flew, 
igniting the air.
Soon the room was a blaze.
The fire spread wild,
filling everyone with passion.
It was intoxicating.
The crowd became drunk, 
swaying with the notes.
Each instrument danced through 
the crowd, 
pushing and pulling everyone.
We all became intertwined 
with one another.
All emotions became one and 
the crowd moved together.
Free.
Nothing could bring us down.
The more the music played the 
less control I felt.
My body and mind finally 
acting as one.
Th beat pulsating inside, 
growing stronger and stronger.
I could feel it from the top of 
my head to the tips of my toes.
The sweet, 
delicious feeling felt 
like it would never end.
My skin burned from the 
white hot heat of desire.
Your touch is all I need to 
send me over the edge. 
Like lightning dancing on my skin.
My soul yearned to be free.
Begging.
Just as I was about to give in, 
the music stopped.
The rush inside beginning to fade.
Everyone sobering as the 
fire left the air.
The crowd was left with 
the feeling of eternal bliss.
Basking in the glow, 
slowly fall off the edge.
The anticipation is killing me.
I can't wait to be intoxicated.

 

Low Blows

Sometimes we say things that we didn’t think about before opening our mouthes. The problem with that is the people we usually say these things to are the a-holes that come right back at ya 10x more defensive than need be. Thus the low blows have begun. I tend to wonder if I enjoy being put down bc I usually don’t get compliments, especially these days. I had my second child and now I look like I’m always 5 months pregnant. It took me a year and a half to get the baby weight off last time, and then I found out I was pregnant again. This time I’m working out and still feel like I’m a blimp. And today, the low blow just made it clear that the way I feel is the way I look. I’m beginning to understand why women tend to over workout and under eat after having children to get back into shape. I’m starting to become obsessed as well…

Hello, can anyone hear me?

There are times that I feel absolutely alone. I’m surrounded by people all the time, and somehow I feel absolutely alone. Sometimes I wonder if it’s because the one person that I want to see me just isn’t looking anymore. When do we say enough is enough and put ourselves first? I’ve been putting everyone else before me my whole life and I’m starting to get tired of it. I always do what others want and trying to make them happy, and for what? So I can sit on the sidelines and feel like garbage when because I’m forgotten about? I fail to see how that’s karmically  justifiable.

Is it wrong of me to ask for attention? Perhaps even affection? I don’t want it from a stranger, just that special someone. I wish that person that ice spent the last 10 years with would see me the way they saw me at the beginning. So I guess I wish they just saw me, maybe even let me know I exist to them. I’m tired of being taken for granted. It’s just not working for me anymore. I’m a mother to my two children, I don’t want to be his mother too. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just delusional.

The last drop

I am a breastfeeding advocate of sorts. I am proud when I see other women in public breastfeeding their children. Their courage fuels my fight. People in this country are so prudish that it amazes me. They’re just boobs. Not like women are just whipping their boobs out for everyone to see them just because they feel like it. That’s a whole different subject. What I can’t understand is, how can so many people look down on women for doing what they were built for?

Honestly who should care if children are breastfed in public? Have women always had to be this sheltered when it comes to breastfeeding? I understand that there was a time when women were drugged up and couldn’t remember giving birth, and then were told they had to bottle feed. I get this. But seriously, times have changed. Women are nursing their toddlers, because that’s their right. We as women, fought to have rights. I don’t think anyone should be able to tell us where and when we can feed our children just because it doesn’t come from a damn bottle. This is a human right. We’re not asking to be able to strip in front of people at the mall. We’re asking to be able to feed our children and not be told it’s gross or inconsiderate. You’re gross and inconsiderate if you think that breastfeeding a child has any sort of sexual nature.

I’ve only been a mom now for 8 1/2 months, but I’ve been a breastfeeding advocate for years. It’s something I knew I’ve always wanted to do when I did become a mother. I unfortunately had to stop breastfeeding my son at 4 months. Between stress and not having enough time to pump at work I wasn’t producing enough milk to sustain my son. I tried for as long as possible, but the stress of the situation became too much for me and dried me up faster.

I never wanted to stop breastfeeding. I wanted to keep going till my son was at least 6 months, then after that I would see how much farther he and I wanted to go. It’s a special relationship. The most wonderful bond I have ever experienced with a person, and I have an amazing bond with my own mother. No one prepared me for how strong this bond would be. No one prepared me for how heartbreaking it would be to have to cut this bond off. I think that was the worst part of it all. Just not knowing how much of a struggle that decision would be, and how much I would miss it all.

For the last two weeks that I nursed my son, I cried after he was done. I was never sure if there would be another time or not. I was afraid it would be the last time and I would never get it back. I was afraid that our bond would never be the same. I didn’t want things to change. We had it all figured out. There was a schedule, stability. If he woke up at night I could just bring him to bed and snuggle with him while he nursed. No getting up and making a bottle while he cried, because he was hungry. It was OUR quiet time. It always felt like time stood still around us, just so I could be absorbed into that tiny person that I’m allowed to call mine. It felt like no one could ever take that away. The feeding before bed was always my favorite. I would watch him slowly drift to sleep all while being satisfied and nourished, because of me, his mom. Then we could cuddle till I was ready for bed myself. I miss those days entirely too much to want to think about it sometimes. I wish I could go back so bad and do it all over again. It’s been 4 months and I still feel lost to this day. I didn’t feel like my job was done yet. I feel like someone came in and said “if you do this one more time, we will take him away… We’re watching you.” I don’t know if that makes any sense to anyone else.

I’ve already decided, with my next child I won’t let anything stop me from breastfeeding my child for as long as I want. I will make the time at work to pump, since that was the biggest problem I had. I don’t care if I have to go pump in the car. If that’s what I need to do, I will do it. I don’t care if I don’t have the support I need from the people around me. I will do it. I will not feel like a failure again. I refuse. And that’s it.

And to all of the mothers who can’t breastfeed for some reason, or chose to formula feed your babies: There is nothing wrong with the path you are taking/have taken. Be proud that you’re trying to be the best mother possible to your children. Don’t let anyone put you down for going by your own mothering style. Everyone has the right to figure out what is best for THEIR family. What is best for one family is not what is best for the next. Remember that.

Thank you for bearing with me through my rant. I just needed to get some of that off my chest. And if there are spelling errors or things that just don’t make sense, my bad. I wrote this on my phone while at work. Lol

Modern Day Motherhood

Now that I’m a mom, I can’t stand working a full-time job. I hate being away from my son so much. I hate the idea that I am practically missing him grow up. I’m taking the risk that I’m going to miss all of his big milestones, because I’m at work. I cried almost everyday for the first month or so that I went back to work. I think part of that has to do with the fact that I had to go back 3 weeks after I gave birth instead of getting my full 6 weeks. I was so afraid of missing something momentous in his ever changing life, that I couldn’t stand being away. The idea made me sick to my stomach for the first two weeks. I couldn’t just snuggle him anytime that I wanted. I wasn’t the one changing his diapers when he needed it. I wasn’t there to nurse him, I had to pump instead. Most of all, I wasn’t the one giving him affection at that particular time.

He’s almost 7 months old now. To this day, I have days where I leave him to go to work and within half an hour I want to come home. I don’t want to be at work dealing with work drama and adults. I want to be at home with my baby boy. I want to be: playing with him, making funny faces/sticking my tongue out, tickling him, talking in a language only he seems to understand, feeding him, napping with him, be the one giving him affection and attention. I want to be there for every little sigh. Every giggle. Every burp. Every fart. Everything. It’s so much more fun.

I always wanted to be a stay at home mom. That was my dream. To be there for my kids whenever they needed me. To not have to miss the milestones. My boyfriend and I had always talked about it. For years he told me that he wanted me to be a stay at home mom for the same reasons. But when push came to shove, the final decision was that I had to have a job. I don’t think he wanted that much pressure on his shoulders. I don’t blame him, I wouldn’t want all that pressure either. I watched it tear my father apart for years trying to figure out how to make ends meet, and now I’m watching it do the same to my mother. -sigh- To be honest, I don’t know if I could ever be a stay at home mom now. I’m too used to going to work day in and day out. I’m set in that routine. I would definitely need time to adjust to the responsibilities I would be carrying. I would also miss work. I love working. I love being out in the world and making my imprint on things, but I love the idea of being able to be the best stay at home mom I can be to my child. It’s a constant struggle.

The first post…

The first post is like opening a great book for the first time and hearing the crisp sound of the binding as it bends and cracks at the weight of the pages. The first paragraph grabs your undivided attention and you no longer know what is going on around you, because you are now lost in another persons world of words. That’s what I’m hoping to accomplish right now. Did it work? Haha.

Let me just give a little background on myself and why I chose to create this blog..

I’m a first time Mom. Not that mothering is new to me, I have little brothers and lots of little cousins that I’ve helped look after like they were my own. Family is the MOST important thing to me. After all, if you don’t have family what do you really have? Life isn’t as satisfying if you don’t have people to share it with to go through the ups and downs with, or atleast I think so. (And yes, friends can be family too.) I am a full-time laundry manager. I love my employees. They make the days go by fast and easy without feeling like we’re at work too much, most of the time. 🙂 I also love photography. It’s my passion. One day I hope to make it more than just a hobby and do something with it professionally.

I created this blog, because I need a place to vent. It’s an everyday struggle being a mom. Always wondering if there are things you’re doing wrong, things you could be doing “better,” feeling trapped by your new life’s “expectations” from society. I’ve never felt so much pressure in my life, and I’m very confident in my mothering style/skills. On top of all of that, I have to make sure my relationship doesn’t suffer from my focus on my son. Also, go to my full-time job for about 50+ a week. Then, somehow in all of that chaos, I need to find time to have a semi-normal adult life. Granted it doesn’t sound like a lot, it can be pretty over-whelming.

It’s all worth it at the end of the day. And I wouldn’t change my life for anything. No matter how much I may complain about things I have no control over. Lol.

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