Image courtesy of Google Images.
It’s not my nose that’s growing. I’m way too honest for most people. I’m one of those people that can’t tell a lie.
Sure I can fib, when necessary: “Yes, Officer, I’m speeding because I have to go to the bathroom sooooo bad.”
OR — “No, honey, of course I didn’t buy myself a pair of shoes!”
But, lies….I can’t seem to tell lies. And any time I try to I completely screw it up. Lies complicate things. I always forget my lies and end up telling the truth anyways! I’m a simple person. What you see is what you get.
So, I’ve given up telling lies. Especially when I’ve been drinking. Give me just one glass of wine and it is like truth serum that compels me to tell the truth. Like diarrhea the truth pours out of my mouth.
It’s not that I can’t keep a secret – when it’s bad news. Tell me bad news, and I try to forget it. I want nothing to do with bad news. Tell me good news, and I want to shout it from the stars! Yayyy good news! I love good news! I’m so excited!
The truth is good. We’re all taught as young as 2 to tell the truth. But, sometimes lies are good. Lies protect us. Lies protect others.
Some people just can’t take the truth. They would rather be lied to.
And I’m not talking about the 300 pounder who asks if her butt looks big. Of course it does, but I’m not going to be the asshole who says, “Yeah fat ass, get on the treadmill!”
That’s where fibbing is necessary; a necessity in life.
Another place where fibbing must be a necessity, but I haven’t yet received that memo is on mommyhood.
All my mom friends lied to me.
They’ve all told me how great it is to be a mom. And it is great; don’t get me wrong. I love my Boo. I love when she coos. I love when she laughs. I love when I talk and she stares at me like ‘that’s MY mom’ with adoration in her big blue eyes.
But I’m not going to lie to you people. Being a mother has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Ever. In my life.
And I’m terrified I’m going to fail at it.
For one, I need sleep. I’m a sleeper. I could sleep 12 hours every night and still take a nap the next day. Becoming a mom means losing sleep. It means sometimes getting no sleep at all. And that is pretty fucking hard for someone who needs to sleep.
For two, I’m selfish. Yeah, I am a bit of a princess. And now I have a princess who needs everything from me who I need to cater to 24/7. My needs and wants are no longer #1. I’ve grown up my whole life being #1 in my own eyes, and now, my daughter is my #1. It’s a hard adjustment, having to put down the Juicy Couture panties for Huggies Leak-Guards.
For three, I don’t deal well with change. And my life has completely changed. From the days of working during the day, drinking wine at night, sleeping in on the weekends, buying myself Starbuck’s everyday …. To work all day. Get the baby. Go home. Feed the baby. Cook dinner. Put the baby to bed. Completely pass out from exhaustion at 9 p.m.
And no one tells you this. Or they might tell you, but maybe I was never listening? Or maybe it doesn’t bother them as much as it bothers me? It’s not that it booottttthhhhersss me. I’m not complaining. I guess I just wish someone told me the truth of what to expect and didn’t just tell me how wonderful it is. Everyone paints a Hollywood happy ending of getting married and having kids.
And it’s lies!
It’s all a bunch of lies!!!!!
I just drank the truth serum. I want to tell you the truth. That being said, I’m going to get hate messages from people telling me how horrible a mother I am, how my daughter doesn’t deserve me. How I’m a terrible wife, and my husband “must be a saint” because I sound like such a horrible person.
Maybe that’s true.
Maybe I am one bad mother fucker!
But, I don’t think so.
I think I just don’t paint the rosy fucking sunshine picture that you all want to look through.
You don’t want to see the rainy days because you’re too busy pretending life is perfect.
Not me.
News flash (and this isn’t a news flash really, I’ve told you all before) I’m not perfect. I don’t try to be perfect. In fact, I’m far from perfect. I’m flawed and vulnerable. But, I wake up every day and try to be a good person. And now, I wake up every day to be a good mom. I’m sure some days I fail, like the day I forgot Boo’s diaper bag – with the bottle in it – at home. Whoops. Or the day I banged Boo’s car seat (accidentally!) against my car. Whoops.
What I am good at is telling you how I feel. Despite the hardships I would never trade my Boo in for anything. Are there days that I hate her father? Yeah. Are there days I wish I was single and could run off and do whatever I wanted? Yeah.
But, even if I think that for 1 hour out of a 24 hour day the rest of the 23 hours I’m thanking my lucky stars that I managed to do one thing right.
I managed to bring this baby into the world. I did that. ME. Well, not alone, but I mean, I delivered her despite my intense fears and anxiety about child birth. Despite the fact that I almost died a month later of blood loss I came back for her. Despite the Post-Partum Depression that made me want to give it all up, I’ve still fought back. I’ve fought back for my daughter. And now, the new obstacles I face, the feelings of fear and loss and uncertainty, and failure, I will fight those, too.
I have no one to depend on in this world except me. My daughter has no one to depend on except me. And I guess what kills me, what absolutely pisses me off, is that despite my realness people just want to talk about my negatives. People just want to look at the ways in which I’m lacking as a mom. They stare at me with wiiidddeee eyes when I truthfully say, “Yeah, Eva’s awesome, but I can’t wait until she’s like 5 and a little more independent.”
Or the horrified look I see on their face when they ask me how mommyhood is, and I don’t goo and gush about how wonderful it is. Instead I tell the truth. It’s fucking hard! Why do I have to pretend it’s easy? Just because I say it’s hard doesn’t mean I don’t love my daughter! So please, wipe that look off your face! Understand that I am a real person with real feelings, and I’m not going to lie to you like Hollywood and all your perfect mommy friends!
Why can’t other moms support each other instead of pointing out the moms who have fucked up? Why can’t other moms be there for each other and teach their daughters that being a strong woman is being real and honest. It’s being there for people that need you. It’s taking care of you. It’s remembering that being a good mom is being a good person. It’s that mistakes happen. It’s that you will prevail. It’s that you can’t give up. You can’t let people talk you down.
Is there no one else in the world like this?
Don’t fall into their trap.
Don’t let them do it to you.
This is a very real and raw post for me. Most of my posts are well thought out, re-read, edited, etc., but this one I simply wrote. I wrote it for me. I wrote it from the heart. I needed to write a journal entry telling myself it’s OK to be me. Telling myself it’s OK to make mistakes. Letting myself vent.
I have a fear of being a fuck up. I constantly say to my husband, “I’m just a complete fuck up.”
I’m going to start reminding myself, it’s OK to be me.
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