I want to be a mom.....

I want to be a mom. But I can't. Instead, I'm a mom wannabe. I want to procreate. I want to conceive a child naturally with my husband, in the privacy of our home, in the spirit of love and passion, in the way God intended. But I can't. Instead, a Doctor, a laboratory and a test tube will try to assist God with our conception. I want to discover that my period is several days late. I want to buy a pregnancy test and pee on a stick. I want to see the + sign. I want to cry tears of joy for the news we'd discover. But I can't. Instead, I cry tears of pain at random, for no reason and with no warning. I want to experience morning sickness. I want my hormones to go haywire. I want the 'pregnant glow.' I want to have my husband talk to my belly. But I can't. Instead, I try not to look pregnant. I don't buy clearance clothes for next year, "just in case." I try to keep my emotions from going haywire. I dream that my husband talks to my belly. I want to take pre-natal vitamins. I want to eat for two. I want to schedule my first doctor's visit. I want to sit in the waiting room with other pregnant women and know that I am one of them. But I can't. Instead, I wonder if those pregnant women ever had problems conceiving. I think how cute they look as they waddle with their big bellies. I smile at babies that are not mine. I ache from loving someone I've never met. I want to hear the Doctor say, "You're pregnant. Your progress is right on schedule." But I can't. Instead, I hear: "I am sorry," "Let's try one more cycle," "Technology is really improving." I want to surprise my parents with a new grandchild. I want to tell my family and friends our good news. I want my life to change overnight. I want to read What to Expect When You're Expecting. But I can't. Instead, I have no news to tell. I realize my life hasn't changed in years. I read When Empty Arms Leave a Heavy Burden. I want to monitor the progress. I want to see the ultrasounds. I want to hear the heartbeat. I want to watch our baby grow. I want to feel the kicks. But I can't. Instead, I take the injections. I give blood. I watch my eggs grow and pray they fertilize. My embryos are transferred, while my husband watches our conception from across the room. I wait. I pray. I wait for the one phone call that can make our life better. Or worse. I want to decorate the nursery. I want to childproof our home. I want to shop for adorable, soft, tiny outfits. I want to shop at Gymboree. I want to save money for the baby's future. But I can't. Instead, I imagine a crib in the empty room down the hall. I avoid the baby stores in the mall. We spend our money on Doctor appointments, tests and high tech procedures. We spend our money on a dream. We are left with an empty bank account. We are left with empty arms. I want to share the experience with my pregnant friends. I want to compare symptoms. I want to be the guest of honor at a baby shower. But I can't. Instead, I watch my friends get pregnant quickly. I watch their bellies grow, attend their showers, see their pictures and try to be a good friend. I watch their lives change and our friendships change in front of my eyes. I want my belly to drop. I want my water to break. I want contractions. I want an epidural. I want my husband by my side and my family in the waiting room. I want the pushing. I want the pain. I want to hear the cry. But I can't. Instead, I feel a different pain. I hear my own cry. Yes, I even hear the cry of my husband, which hurts more than I had ever imagined. I want to hold our baby in my arms, with tears of joy streaming down our faces. I want to experience the miracle of birth, thinking, "We did it", but knowing that God did it. But I can't. Instead, I hold my husband in my arms with tears of sorrow streaming down our faces and wonder what God's plan is for us and why we have to go through this. I want to pray that one extra special blessing be added to my life. And I do. I pray my 1000th unanswered prayer to God and hope that this time He answers. I pray for the miracle of life that only God can give. I pray that someday soon, He will give it to us. I want to be a mom. --- But I can't. Instead, I am right where God wants me to be: thankful for our blessings, searching out His will, basking in His grace, trusting in His perfect plan, praying for a change in status from a mom wannabe . . . to the mom I want to be...

Parenting sucks...

Tonight was the first night I can honestly say I feel like a total failure as a mother to Nathan and Breonna. This evening when the kids and my husband got home from Nathan's basketball practice, Breonna asked if she could go outside to play. My response was "Yes, but stay in the front yard." She said okay and went out to play. About thirty minutes later dinner was done and I was calling her from the front door. No answer, not unusual, but nonetheless frusterating. I call her name 2 or 3 more times, find my shoes and walk out the door to the yard where I look around to see a vacant and quiet neighborhood, except of course for the 2 neighbors looking at me like I was insane. Great! Now all the neighbors think I am reeeealll super...I lost my kid! I go back inside and finish dishing up dinner while Floyd heads out to search for her, all the while I am trying my best to not freak out and worry too much (because as most of my friends and family know I am such a worrier...about EVERYTHING) thoughts run through my head that she has been kidnapped....she is being drug into the woods....the front door opens, there she comes just bouncing in like a freaking fairy "Oh is dinner finally done?" she says. Mouth open I look at her and say "where were you?" Of course the dumb founded 'duh mom' look comes across her face as she states she was at a friends house. Our conversation comes into play like this:

Me: "Breonna where did I tell you could play?"
Bree: Outfront
Me: "and you were where....?"
Bree: "at my friends house, they asked if I could go jump on their trampoline...I thought dad knew where I was going because he looked at me when I was walking over there"
Me: "Breonna, again where did I say you could play?"
Bree: "I know, I know...outfront" apparently NOT understanding what I am getting at she proceeds to say " but I thought dad knew where I was going...."
Me: "Breonna did you TELL your dad where you were going? Again, I told you I wanted you to stay in the front yard. Did you check in to say you were going to a friends house to play? I was worried! I had no idea where you were. I thought someone took you!"
Bree: "Well dad looked at me when I was going there I thought he knew"
Me: "That isnt the point, I told you, you needed to stay in the front yard and you never SPOKE to your father. You disobeyed me. After dinner you need to take a shower and head to bed"
Bree: Looking at the clock and then at me in utter shock she says "BUT ITS ONLY 7:30"
Me: "Yeah I can tell time, get your dinner..."
......still waiting for when the apology is going to take effect so I can then redirect the conversation into something more along the lines of allowing her stay up but in her room until bedtime she begins to cry, making me feel horrible as usual. I of course stick to my guns KNOWING she will remember next time to let us know where she is going before she leave and possibly reminding her obey me. After dinner she puts her plate in the sink. I tell her Breonna the dishwasher has dirty dishes in it, you can load it up with your plate. She looks at me cross eyed and says "Its Nathan's turn for the dishwasher"! I look back at her and say "Breonna you can put your own dishes away please" as she stomps all the way back to the kitchen and puts her dishes away and then resumes the same stomp up the stairs, sobbing louder now, letting everyone know how upset she is, she takes a shower, sobbing even louder so we can hear it over the shower water....she gets out and slowly walks back downstairs looks at me and her father and says "well I have to go to bed...'night" We kiss her goodnight and say we love her. She walks ever so slowly to the stairs and looks back and says "its too early, I am not tired" I looked at her and said "Breonna good night, we love you" Of course not getting her way she stomps up the stairs and SLAMS her door. I am now annoyed and I stupidly tell her to come back down. I feel the need to explain to her again why she is being punished as she cuts me off saying "I know, I know...you just like to make me upset! It makes you happy to punish me" In total shock I look at her and say "seriously? You really think I ENJOY making you upset" Totally serious she looks at me and say "yes!" Holy, Mother of Pearl! Can you believe this kid? She seriously and honestly believes that my entire exsistence on this planet is to make her life as misreble as can be because I have nothing better to do....She then procedes to explain to me this following list

1) I made her starve this morning. Because of course as everyone knows Breonna is only what 12lbs? She never is allowed to eat and her bones are protruding.... I remind her "no I gave you 30min to get breakfast before the carpet cleaners got here. You choose to yell at your brother and by the time you were done the carpets were being started and I told you would have have to wait. I offered you a snack and you snubbed your nose at it. You informed you "hated that" and would "now have to starve and watch Nathan eat the snack you hated"

2) I always make her do something "not fun" like clean her room or walk the dog. Well hello....isnt that my entire life mission? I again remind her that she was told on Thursday her room needed to be cleaned by Saturday morning before the cleaning lady arrived or she would find all her belongings on her bed and would need to clean after she left. I also reminded she was the one who begged for the 2nd dog and told me she "promised" she would walk the dog....

3) That I have too many rules and consequences and I don't love her. Totally feeling the need to peel my skin with a potato peeler I am reminded of what my dear friend Michelle would tell her kids about not loving her. I explain that if I didnt love you I would let you eat candy for every meal and never make you brush your teeth. That I would let you stay up all night and skip school, and never make you take a bath. That you would never have any chores or have any responsibilities" Confused Breonna looks at me and says "whatever".

4) All I do is yell at her and only her. Now by nature I consider myself a loud person in general. I apparently was not graced with soft spoken voice and patience of my mother! However, I have gotten MUCH better in that I am not speaking as loud to them, nor yelling, nor even speaking to them half as much because I absolutly hate gearing up for world war 938984732841. So I ask her "Breonna, when was the last time I yelled at you" Saying nothing for what must of been 3min I ask her again she says "well Monday!" (talk about keeping a score card)

So after a repeat of explaining to her that I do love her, that she has consequences for her actions, and that she too is a part of this family and needs to help out with chores she looks at me and I know what she is thinking. She is totally thinking "shut &^#% up". I so know she is. Finally giving up because I know this is just going to be a vicious circle I just say "Goodnight Breonna....."

She walks up the stairs and heads to bed and I start bawling...I totally SUCK at this parenting gig.

Why is parenting so hard? Why do I feel as if I am going to royally screw up these two kids? Does every parent feel this way? Because if you do I so need to know you are right there with me screwing up your child's life too. I so need to join the club. Sign me up NOW! Maybe this is just another stage in the life of children. Maybe, they grow out of it....or maybe I grow out of feeling like the horrible parent. I swear this parenting gig blows. No one and I mean NO ONE told me, not once being a parent would be this hard. Where is the rule book that state this? Shouldnt this somewhere in the beginning pages? I swear if I was the last person on this planet alone with children I would totally demand a re-count because I could not do it! Thank goodness for the friends I have and my mom....without them I would be lost! Hell, without this blog I might be lost!