Life isn't fair.

I’m exhausted. Completely exhausted; all I want more than anything is to be able to sleep right now, but I can’t.  Lately, my mind has been spinning a mile a minute, focusing on day to day tasks has become a struggle.  I wish there was a mute button for your thoughts; a way to just clear my head and have some clarity for just a few minutes.  I feel like I cross one item off my to-do list and add five more.  There’s always somewhere to be and something that has to be done-my life is one big came of playing catch up.  One step forward, two steps back; sometimes it just isn’t fair.

This past year has been such a whirlwind to me.  After graduating college, I thought I had everything figured out.  I was ecstatic to finally be able to have weekends free from waiting tables and have the leisure of working nights when I wanted to, not because I had to.  I had started a new journey of living with not only a roommate, but my best friend, and had finally started to figure out this while co-parenting thing.  Well, I guess the saying “when it rains it pours” is true, because in the blink of an eye my whole world changed.  A mere two months after starting my “big girl job” I found myself moving back in with my parents.  About a month or two after that I found myself in court; awarded full custody of my son.  I felt like I went from having it all to having nothing; as if someone had pulled the rug from right under my feet.  My routine, my normalcy, my life-nothing was the same.

I went through all the emotions.  Sadness, for my poor child who has moved 8 times in the past 4 years, who didn’t understand why he couldn’t see his father anymore, who cried every time I had to leave him to go to work.  Anger; for the friends who could lie, steal, and betray me when I would have given the shirt off my back for them, and for the selfishness of a parent who chose drugs over raising his child.  Finally, acceptance, or what I thought was acceptance.  Because truthfully, you never really learn to accept it, you just learn to deal with it and move on.

I can’t tell you how many times I have driven home from work at 2 o’clock in the morning with tears streaming down my face, partially from exhaustion and partially from missing my child so damn much. Waking up at 6:30 am and not getting to be until almost 3 am; it’s mentally, emotionally and physically exhausting.  Working 70 hours a week and feeling like you have nothing to show for it, except having your child’s life pass you by and you’re not there to watch it.

It’s so hard not to sit around and feel sorry for yourself when life knocks you down, lord knows I do it all the time.  Everyone has a plan or a vision of how they want their life to turn out, but the truth is it doesn’t always turn out that way.  Guess what? That’s ok.  Life isn’t about the destination, it’s about the journey.  Did I think that at the age of 19 I was going to become a mom? Absolutely not.  I can tell you one thing though, I knew as soon as I was pregnant that I was going to do whatever it took to give that child the best life possible.  Did I think it was going to be easy? No, I just knew it would be worth it.  Life isn’t always going to be fair and you won’t always understand why things happen, but they happen for a reason. Hardships make you stronger and mistakes make you wiser.  The importance is what you take from each experience. 

As I lay here in bed, it being midnight now, I remind myself to take a deep breath and just let it all go.  Negativity is toxic; if you think you cannot, then you will not.  If you want it bad enough, don’t let anything get in your way, even if it isn’t fair.  They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, sometimes I feel like at this point I could be immortal.  Yes, there are times that I have breakdowns (ok, all the time) and there are times that I feel like my life will never be anything close to normal; but at the end of the day I dry my tears, pick myself back up, and keep on trekking on.  Life may not be fair, but I’ll be damned if I let it determine my future and my happiness.

My real life sitcom

Kids say/do the funniest things!  Four is actually a great age, despite the fact that it has been the most challenging age yet (and I know it just keeps going downhill from here.)  I really wish I had a camera rolling 24/7 to capture some of the hilarious and unbelievable moments that happen in my every day life. 


I woke up this morning to two elephants, a duck, and a four year old taking over my bed (sock monkey is no longer allowed because he came to life and tried to kill Parker the other night, "for real".)  We went through our usual argument of why fruit snack or oreos were not acceptable breakfast foods and came to the agreement of French toast instead.


After breakfast it was melt down city because I wanted Parker to wear pants instead of shorts.  He insisted that "he didn't look good" and burst into tears; it was clearly the end of the world (I have a diva on my hands.)  I caved-shorts it is today.  The waterworks, however, didn't end there.  I was the worst mom ever for taking away his whoopee cushion; it was only funny the first 50 times, and I crushed his soul when I warmed up his frozen donut for him; apparently they taste better cold.


Did you get all that?  Good, because it's only 10 am at this point.  Nap time, where are you?!


Rarely do I get a Sunday off, so I decided to go where few mothers have gone before, I skipped naptime.  Parker and I had a mommy son date and saw Maleficent in 3D.  Great movie, but when did the movies get so expensive?!  We stopped at the bathroom on our way out where Parker insisted he didn't have to go.  Low and behold, guess who had an accident in the parking lot of Sweet Frog, TWO minutes down the road! Crazy mom of the year, rushing to the bathroom in a busy froyo shop with a waddling toddler in tow.  We ended up getting some yummy treats, but poor Parker had to resort to being commando for the rest of the outing.


We finished off our day with an evening stroll down the trail next to our house.  By evening stroll I mean me chasing after an uncontrollable four year old on a tricycle, I bet that was an amusing sight for passersby. Finally it was time to feed and bath my little monster. 


While Parker is in the tubby I'm doing my usual routine; brushing my teeth, washing my face, etc.  Talking to him here and there, but mostly he's just in his own little world when he plays.  Well, slick rick over there decided to sneak his silly putty into the tubby.  As he's getting out of the tub I hear, "uh oh mommy, I need your help."   I look over and no joke, his silly putty is stuck to his penis.  That's right, his little male genitalia...awkward.  Is this real life?  The water had made the putty soft and sticky and for whatever reason Parker thought it would be a good idea to stick the putty down below and the darn putty would not come off; it was almost as awkward as trying to teach him how to aim when he pees.  Alas, the putty came off.  As for the putty however, it is in the trash.  Can't wait to tell that story to his first girlfriend!


Bedtime had finally made it's debut and I so warmly welcomed it!  I tucked my little munchkin in his bed, turned on his turtle nightlight, and gave his a big kiss goodnight.  Like usual, he whined for me to cuddle with him but I held my ground (highly unusual) and closed the door behind me.  As I'm walking away I hear, "Mommy, I'm so sad." "Mommy, you can call me Saddy Claus." I silently burst into laughter.  Good play on words, kid.  He's so funny.


I creep into my room and collapse onto my bed; half covered in stuffed animals, the other half covered in half folded laundry.  I stare down at the what once was my hardwood floor that has now been replaced with a sea of dirty laundry. I finally muster the energy to attack the laundry pile.  I begin sorting piles and-surprise! a train, a puzzle piece, a...door knob?  I just laugh to myself.  Those "are you kidding me" moments, those "is this real life" situations, that's just my every day life as a single mom.  My crazy, beautiful real life sitcom.

You are enough.

Being a mom makes for a busy life, but being a single mom makes for a crazy busy life.  Working two jobs and taking care of a four year old while trying to maintain my sanity makes for long days and early mornings-but I wouldn't change it for the world.  When I became a mom, I made the decision to put another life before mine, and I was one hundred percent content with that.  There are mornings that we are running late (ok, every morning) and getting Parker ready takes so long that I'm stuck doing my makeup while sitting in rush hour traffic.  There are nights that laying with my baby for a few minutes turns into falling asleep next to him and I'm forced to stroll into work strutting yesterdays unwashed hairdo.  Every priority I used to have got pushed to the backburner; vanity being one of those.


These days, I'm used to the whole hot mess persona. Recently, however, I started a job at a new restaurant and let me tell you my coworkers are B E A U T I F U L.  The night before my first day, I had planned on getting up early to do my hair and makeup, make sure my clothes were ironed and folded neatly, and prepare for my first day.  I don't know what fantasy world I was living in, because realistically I woke up late, had to throw my hair in a sock bun, threw my work clothes in a plastic bag, and per usual did my makeup while stuck in traffic.  Having about a half hour between jobs, I sat in my car trying to fix my half melted off makeup and salvage my fifth grade dance recital bun.  I spent my whole first night at work comparing myself to my coworkers with their perfectly messy waves, flawless tan skin, movie star makeup, and perfectly proportioned bodies.  I left work completely discouraged and convinced I didn't fit in, wondering if they thought the exact same thing. 


The next day, I was better prepared for my shift.  I had taken the time to style my hair and threw on a little more makeup than I usually do- I felt confident this time.  I walked in and that confidence immediately went out the window.  Standing next to these girls I felt like a little twelve year old girl.  My eyebrows aren't shaped enough, my hair isn't dark enough, my skin isn't tan enough, the bags under my eyes are too dark...I kept a laundry list of things I needed to fix in my head as the day went on.  Again, I left work discouraged and feeling just downright inadequate.


When I got home, I just stood in front of a mirror and stared at myself for a few minutes.  It took years for me to learn to love my body, and after childbirth I am slowly learning how to love it again.  I stared at the debacle of curls hanging over my shoulders that I had tried to style while trying to keep a four year old from destroying the house.  I stared at the tired purple bags under my eyes that seem to appear no matter how much concealer I apply.  "I need to tan, I need to spent more time working out, I need to spend more time on my hair and makeup" I thought to myself.  Then it dawned on me; I can't even seem to find time to sleep these days, how on earth am I going to find time to do all this!  Sure I could spend two hours getting ready before work, or swing by the gym on my way home from work- Parker doesn't need to spend time with his mother right?  Suddenly, these insecurities seemed foolish.


I am a mom, not a supermodel.  I don't need to have perfect hair, perfect makeup, or a perfect body.  Who am I trying to impress? I already have someone who will love me unconditionally!  I may leave the house looking like Edward Scissorhands some days, but I would rather spend those extra few hours bonding with my child than with the mirror. I will never be perfect, I will never be the most beautiful girl in the room, and I will never be flawlessly put together, but I'm ok with that.  I'm ok with the bags under my eyes because it shows the long nights I work to provide for my child and I'm content with my constant mess of hair because it reflects my carefree crazy life that I have learned to love and take in stride. 


For a few moments, I lost myself in the ideals of being "enough," forgetting the compromise I made with my body four years ago.  I am not the same as these women, so why am I trying to compare myself to them?  Would you compare an apple to an orange?  Why am I looking for perfection if I've already found it?  My perfection stopped being about myself long ago. Perfection is being able to create a life inside of you. Perfection is having a place to go home to.  Perfection is providing for your family.  Perfection is kissing a beautiful little boy before bed every night. By that definition, I am enough.