Confession #10: Bon Bons and Soap Operas

Okay, I admit it! I used to sit on the sofa watching soap operas, eating bon bons! Just so you know, I am thoroughly ashamed of myself. LOL

I learned it by watching my mother doing it while I growing up. I also had a Spanish nanny that would watch nothing else! I learned a lot about Latin love from those shows.

I didn't know what bon bons were, really. I heard people make fun of those that partook of the delicious treats but never understood that those were what my mother would sit and eat, stereotypically every single day.

So like every bad habit, I had to try it once and I was hooked. I mean, how can you turn down chocolatized sweets and learning of the new relationship Erica Kane and her crazy family?!

What's really funny is that I don't even watch TV anymore and definitely don't know what's going on in the soap world. The last time I watched a soap, Sarah Michelle Geller was on Swans Crossing and One Life to Live was HOT!

Confession #9: Inadequacy

 We all have feelings of inadequacy, right? I'm not the only one? I have a problem...I constantly compare myself to others and I find myself lacking. I want to be the perfect mom with my perfect 2.7 children. I want to have the perfectly clean home and have my children be brilliant and polite simply because that's the way I am.
But I don't.

Sure my kid has moments of brilliance and he is a complete gentleman...anywhere but at home. My house is certainly not clean and I am no one to look up to as the paragon of mothers everywhere.

I wasn't raised by the best of mothers either. She certainly had her faults and I'm sure I'm as hard on her as I am on myself. But that's because I think I can do better...sometimes. Other times I think that this is as good as I get and I wonder if that's good enough.

But I'm nearly 99.9% certain I am not alone in this confession, merely for the fact that we are all human and humans are screwing up all over the place: at home, at work, at church, in society at-large.

My kid seems to think I'm doing okay, most of the time. When he's hurting I'm the one he runs to. When I get him from Playcare, he immediately jumps off the lap of another mother to come running to me. He's excited to get me up in the morning and snuggle if only for a little bit now. And I suppose that is enough, for now. I have room for improvement of course, but if I realize this and move on learning something new every day, I think we'll both turn out alright.

Confession #8: I LIVE For Platitudes

I love inspiring words, even if they are misquoted at times. Something about a platitude makes me think just a little more. I know they can be trite and vague, but I guess that's just who I am and that's why they speak to me the way they do...

I often do the things that are mentioned in these tidbits of inspiration. I have lived my life and these seem to say exactly what I've been through!

SEE?!

I know platitudes get a lot of guff for not being filled with wisdom for all and this article explains the possible reasons behind it all and what the difference between platitudes and maxims are. For my part, maxims tend to be more sarcastic and pessimistic whereas a good platitude seeks to inspire in a sometimes naive tone.

Confession #7: I Breastfed!

That's right folks! Despite my complete lack of Mommy training, I breastfed my kid. Thankfully God saw fit that my son knew what to do from birth. But my true confession isn't simply that I chose me over can, but that I did so for 2 1/2 years. Yes, YEARS!

I saw to it that my kid would get the most benefit of being a baby. I did my research. I found that breastfeeding was most beneficial in this disease-riddled world. I also must admit here that I was determined to breastfeed because my husband was diagnosed with cancer just two weeks after our son was born. SO with cancer knocking at his back door, I had to make sure I was offering him THE best I could.

It may seem more than a little crazy to feed from the boob longer than 6 months (and boy did I get the riot act when I continued WAY past that from family). Here's the truth of it all: I felt this was the ONLY thing I could get right as a new mommy knowing nothing. Breastfeeding literally came naturally to me...and my son. I didn't need any counseling, I didn't need any help. I would tell docs and fam alike, "I got this!" Plus, he was so cute when he would find the Boppy that I hid and had it dragging down the hall telling me he found it so we could have our "Special Time"!

It broke my heart to finally let go of this vice. But I let it end just as naturally as it had begun. I stopped reminding him. I stopped offering it. I waited until he brought it up and when he hadn't for two days, it was over. My body stopped producing and our "Special Time" ended.

We still do stuff together and have fun and I would call that Special but it will never be the same...I suppose it shouldn't, but I still miss it.

Confession #6: On My Own

I was not an only child but my sister and I were 8 1/2 years apart and never very close. I was the baby of my ENTIRE family until I was 18 when my cousin had his first child. I never babysat a baby in my life. I never held a baby, never changed a diaper, nothing! I was never shown how or what to expect. My mother never raised me to be a mother, she raised me to be a Power Woman who's in charge of her life and needs no man to make her whole, let alone children.

This worked pretty well with my sister who has become successful beyond expectations after years and years of hard work. She has no children and she's not married, and I think she likes it this way. The realization that I didn't want her or my mother's so-called ideal life came when I was offered a chance of a lifetime to become an executive to a quickly growing company with an amazing pay rate, even a personal trainer! I turned it down because I saw what this life had done with my sister, and I wanted something more. I wanted to be a wife and a mother...

So, after a while I did settle down, get married, and had a child. I had no idea what I was in for! There were a few extenuating circumstances for a more difficult-than-usual start at being a mother, but when it came time for me to give that final push...I clamped down! I didn't want to be a mother! I had NO IDEA how to do it! (And I gave myself a 4th degree tear in the process). But out he came. They cleaned him up, I suppose...I was crying too much to see anything. They laid him on me, but I didn't know how to hold him the right way. Literally, I thank God for blessing me with a child that knew more than me on how to take care of him because the little guy just scurried right up and started nursing without any encouragement from me!

Confession #5: What Child Is This?

I had Postpartum Depression (PPD) following the birth of my Miracle Baby. Granted, A LOT of things were frantic in my house (and not just because of the baby) and only in hindsight did I see that what was dominating my thoughts and emotions were the affects of PPD.

I never held a brand new baby in my life and I was 32 when I had my son. I had no idea what breast feeding was like or how to go about it. But the worst thing by far was not feeling the bond so many say happen when caring for your child. I could not honestly say "I love you" to my son until the PPD dissipated...6 months after he was born!

I often had to hold on to him tightly so as not to throw him...it was a sad and scary time for he and I. I had so much going on in my life at that moment that I could not grasp why this tiny newborn didn't understand this. I wanted to love him and snuggle him and feel the closest I could get to God's love that people describe when bonding...but I could not.

Once the depression passed I could not get enough of my kid, so much so I think I was bordering on obsession! I think I was over-compensating...

Four years later I feel as normal as a mother could possibly feel with the world bombarding me with their own thoughts and ideas on how I should feel, but that's okay because I do feel the way I should when actually bonding with my kid.

Confession #4: Choose the Right

I believe I am always right, that my ideas are always right, and even when I'm wrong...I'm right! I'm even left-handed and when giving directions, when I mean "turn left" I say "go right". I actually think most people think they are right all the time as well. Why else would people tell me how to parent my kid in the grocery store, or where to go while driving, even though I'm pretty sure how to get to my destination. Even my doctor thinks she's right about how to live my life! So why can't I, the person living my life, be right all the time, too?

Actually, I don't really second-guess my rightness. And I don't see anything wrong with being right (obviously). I've had an eventful life, to say the least. I've been through a lot of life's experiences and come out on the other side, so I think I've earned my right to be right!

I'm not one of those that throws it in your face either. I never say, "HA! I was right!" I simply smile smugly in your direction until you acknowledge the obvious (no, not really...maybe).

I'm even right when playing games. I once played a game of Cranium four times in a row, each time on a different team, and was on the winning team each time (coincidence? No!) Now, I have a friend that witnessed that event that won't play any knowledge games with me...

Confession #3: The Dish

I am NO Suzie Homemaker! Sure, I do some chores around the house but I fight it every step of the way. But the chore I hate the most is dishes! I'm sure there's some psychological link as to why this is, like how my middle name used to be "The Dishwasher" when I was 5 years old, and how I used to break the insanely thin glasses my mother insisted we use every day. Or the crazy heavy Le Creuset pots and pans I had to clean and put away alongside the GLASS pans (seriously, who does this?!)

Oh, and when I say my name was The Dishwasher I don't mean I loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, I mean we had no actual dishwasher and I scrubbed and cleaned every one of those crazy things while standing on a step-stool from the age of 5 until I moved out...well, I guess until I got married (my husband took over the task if I did everything else...I thought it was a good bargain). 

Now don't get me wrong; I can clean with the best of them and get all crazy a la Hyperbole and a Half:

but I don't like it. I've even recruited my own 4 year old in on the scheme so he can find out what it feels like to be a slave to chores at such a ripe young age...of course he battles the hand vac and child-sized broom but I like my dishes and want to keep them in one piece. Passing on the therapy tradition or teaching him life skills? You decide, I've got some cleaning to do...