I love my kids.
More than life itself.
I get lost in their eyes.
I melt when they smile.
I beat myself up on the days that there are too many tantrums and too many tears.
I try to compensate by buying "presents" on those days to make them(read ME) feel better.
My kids have made me a better person.
More patient then I ever was before.
More excepting of peoples flaws.
Allowing some faith into my life.
They also made me find my voice.
I am the type of person who usually leaves well enough alone.
I pick my battles.
And most often those battles are fought in my head.
In there I say the things I really want to say to people.
It is where I really give people the lashing they deserve.
And no I am not multiple personality.
When I found my voice I also found that there was one person that I took it out on the most.
The guy that helped me create those beautiful children.
I can't really pinpoint when it all started going to sh*t but I KNOW it was after the babies.
We struggled after M was born.
He works in an industry that is seasonal and goes like a bat out of hell for 6 months, works like a normal human for 2 months, then usually is on vacation for 4 months.
He was tired, I was tired.
It was always a competition as to who was the most tired.
And it took it's toll.
I let it go.
He was important to me.
Then J came along and all those feelings of frustration that are no doubt born out of complete and utter sleep deprivation came rushing back to haunt me.
I was angry at B again.
For not knowing that I needed him more.
For not knowing that I was drowning in the overwhelming responsibility that I felt looking after two babies.
For not telling me I was Supermom every day.
For not telling me I was still beautiful.
For falling into bed exhausted and not saying goodnight.
For so many things.
I contemplated doing it on my own.
I even muttered that I would rather be a single parent if he was going to not help me.
But I never had the courage to give him the boot.
Instead I chased after him into his sacred garage and let him know how I was feeling.
It didn't go very well.
I stammered through what I needed from him.
He interrupted me several times.
I'm pretty sure I screamed "LIPS MOVING ...STILL TALKING!"
Then we went to bed.
I didn't really feel like we accomplished anything.
I still felt angry inside.
I wished that we would have talked more about kids and our beliefs on child rearing prior to popping out two.
I talked to some friends.
They told me I wasn't alone.
They went through the same things.
I felt slightly better.
I got in the car, plugged in my IPOD and took the scenic route to the grocery store.
A song that I had downloaded a few years ago started to play and I started to cry.
It was "We belong" by Pat Benatar.
I remember thinking that we do belong together.
We have built a life together and I wasn't going to give in.
I was going to fight for us.
So I marched myself back into that garage and let him have it again.
Not exactly the declaration of love that I thought was going to happen.
Instead I quoted Pat:
" don't want to leave your really, I've invested too much time."
But it is true.
And fatigue shouldn't be the reason to throw in the towel.
We have started that uphill climb again.
I try a little harder to stay awake to see him so we can have some "us time".
He tries a little harder to help me when he sees I need it.
He asks if I lost some more weight.
He says he doesn't care what I look like now because he believes I'll get to where I want to be.
And he really listened when I told him how scared I was.
We are in this crazy ride together.
This is the life we built together.
I don't see myself with anyone other than him.
I'm sure he finds some of my habits just as annoying as I find some of his.
But that is what makes us a team, what makes us work.
And we are going to do our best to protect US.