“In raising my children I have lost my mind and found my soul.”  Lisa T. Shepherd

My first week alone with Ellie, my two and a half year old and Ben, my month old newborn can be summed up as…learning to surrender.  

Surrender to the fact that I will be a sleep-deprived, overweight zombie.  I will not be in my best form.  Ellie will not be having loads of happy memories…(Sitting on the couch watching TV while I feed Ben and try to wipe her runny nose with my free hand.)  I will lose my temper from time to time.  I will be racked with remorse.  Which will contribute to another loss of temper.  

It’s funny when I finally accept this I feel instantly lighter, more free, more myself again.  More patient with her (and him) because I’m being more patient and kind to me.

My arms will ache from holding and rocking Ben all day.  My heart will ache when Ellie wants me to play with her and I can’t because Ben just spit up gobs of milk down my neck and while it pools in my bra he proceeds to leak yellow runny poo from the other end totally overwhelming the tiny diaper and leaking onto my shirt.  

This actually happened and that’s not the worst part… 

I’m so sleep deprived it wasn’t until hours later (Hours!) I realized I had forgotten to change…by the time he was clean Ellie was screaming for lunch.  Literally screaming… 

So.  I feel pretty sexy right now, needless to say.

There’s nothing like wiping two layers of dried snot and strawberry juice from a toddler’s face while covered in baby milk throw-up and poop to make you feel like a superstar.  SUPERSTAR!

Ellie and I did manage to decorate the tree this morning – the first time she’s been old enough to participate.  We listened to Christmas music on my iPhone while she hung everything I gave her on the same two branches.  Christmas memories, right here.

Anyway, I managed to feed the dog AND myself most meals most days so I consider this week a resounding success.  The bar seems to be getting lower as I go.

I’ll probably never win ‘Mom of the Year’ – if they don’t have that award they really should – but if everyone is fed and feels loved at the end of the day, that’s reward enough for me.

I may not be a superstar mom but I’m here.  And I’m trying, REALLY trying to not totally screw them both up.  That oughtta count for something!  And hey, when I start getting sleep again, think how much more awesome I’ll be!  Or, human again, at least.

Cheers to real moms who try to be a good one even when you barely feel like you’re being a good ‘you’ let alone a good mom.  I salute you.

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