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If Moms Put in Resumes

I’ve been a stay at home mom for going on three years now. Let me tell you — it isn’t as easy as it’s cracked up to be. In fact, just being completely honest, it’s flipping hard. I went into my current “gig” thinking it would be a cinch; that I would be able to get SO MUCH DONE with all that FREE TIME I’D HAVE. Pftttttt. What is free time?! And y’all, I’m getting next to nothing done these days. Do you want to know when I’ve actually been able to achieve any of my housework/me-time goals? It was the three-month span between Connor starting pre-k in August and Mason’s birth in December of 2017.

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I got SO MUCH DONE. No, seriously. My house was clean. The baby’s room had (relatively) effortlessly come together. My laundry was largely kept up with. I SHOWERED DAILY. Hell, I even made it to the gym almost every day in those three months. It was amazing. And it all ended as quickly as it began. I don’t know what sparked my post-partum baby blues faster: the fact that my productivity levels would abruptly stop or the crashing hormones. In truth? Probably knowing that my house would, once again, be on permanent upheaval.

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I’m going to be real with you guys right now: I’m not a Mary Poppins, spoonful-of-sugar kind of mom. Nope. I’m definitely a weird mixture of Roseanne and Debra from Everybody Loves Raymond (minus the awful in-laws. I legitimately love my in-laws). My kids can attest to the fact that I put the “bear” in “momma bear”. With that said, three years in and I’m still not adjusted to this SAHM lifestyle. It’s just not something my personality type knows how to handle. And you know what? I’ve come to realize that’s okay.

Anyway, I’ve said all that to get to this: I’m very much looking for a job. Any job. I don’t care if it’s Hobby Lobby’s day-shift, I’ve got to have some Sarah-time, adult interaction before I blow a fuse. Unfortunately, my search has turned up a whole lot of nothing. I had an interview a few weeks ago for a school secretarial position, but the job was given to someone else with prior experience in that particular “field”, which — I get it. Really, I do. Total bummer and hit on the ego, but I understand why the decision had been made.

But that got me to thinking about maybe fixing up my resume, which got me to thinking, “What if moms put in resumes? What might that look like?”

This inquiry resulted in a surprisingly difficult-to-answer response. What makes moms tick? What makes us special? What makes us the so-called “glue” of the family? I don’t know about y’all, but I have a super hard time coming up with adjectives for myself — even those that are somewhat obvious. I also have a hard time giving myself credit where it is due. I’m the poster-child for being one’s worst critic. What I came up with was slightly humorous (not guffaw-worthy, obviously) and a little cliche. Okay, a lot cliche. But this little accidental exercise also helped me realize and remember some of my pre-mom self-worth. I was definitely given pause towards the end of my quick-ish presentation.

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Long story short: it’s hard being any kind of mom. At least, it’s hard if the mom in question is actually doing the “momming”. For me, personally, it’s hard because most of my mom friends work, live out of town, or have conflicting schedules. Sure, I have a tribe — but it’s a busy one. I can’t expect them to slow down to keep up with my pace. It’s also because my husband is gone Monday through Friday practically every week; the boys take that so hard and I really believe a lot of our week-to-week issues are because they just miss their dad. It’s because I went from being an independent, 3-job-working, college student to being a full-fledged mom. Obviously, this wasn’t an overnight occurrence, but y’all know how time flies. Gabe will be nine in August, and Connor five. I still vividly remember the days they were born. To further frost that cake, Mason will have his first birthday in December. My caboose baby is definitely not tee-tiny anymore and that hurts. It’s because I have literally craved peer-interaction since I was a toddler; it’s a weakness, I know — but that’s just part of my personality. Finally, I need to feel productive and worthwhile. I need to feel like I’m contributing to the cause and like I’m not just a glorified butt-wiper and toilet cleaner.

Is being a momma important? Absolutely. I love my boys; they are my heart. I’ve long-fought this, shall we say “demon”, of mine for a long time. Being a mom is part of who I am, now. And I love that. But this feeling that maybe I can find part of my old self in the chaotic toy-bin that is my head these days? That gives me some hope.

What would your mom resume look like?

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Baby, Birth, Humor, Mom blog, Motherhood, Parenting, Post-partum, Uncategorized, Women's health

CSI: Underpants

I’m going to go ahead and give y’all fair warning: there is TMI ahead.  Most of you reading are mommas, so there may or may not be such a thing as “TMI” for you.  Been there, done that, had spit-up down the t-shirt sort of thing.  But on the real, we’re about to venture into what some of you might classify as gross or unsavory.  Don’t say you weren’t warned.

I had our caboose baby in December of 2017.  We decided that we were done and did not wish to continue trying for a girl because: our luck.  I mean, hell — I’m wildly outnumbered as it is and am not a super firm believer in “what’s one more”.  Birth control is not an option for me; the side-effects pretty much destroy my already whack hormones.  Hubs didn’t want to venture towards the vasectomy route, and really, who could blame him?  We decided that it just made sense for me to have a tubal since I was already having a c-section anyway and you know… easy access.  So immediately following Mason’s sweet arrival, all exits were shut down.  I made damn sure that my OB sealed everything up so well that even Chuck Norris couldn’t break down that barrier.

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Now, look.  All of my boys have been section babies.  Gabe’s section was not by choice, for those of you who were wondering, it was by necessity.  The following sections were for safety precautions, as well.  Luckily for me, the maternal genes really kicked in and I can see through walls with my back turned.  But I digress.  Like I said, all of the boys were section babies.  I was up and walking around not even a day later after Gabe and Connor were born.  This was not the case with Mason.  I don’t know if it was due to my age or if it was because of the tubal, but it took me a solid two days to move around without everything hurting.  And hurting is an understatement; I felt like everything in me was going to hit the floor.  EVERYTHING.  And all my poor husband could do was listen to me bitch and hold my hand.  Looking back, he was really a trooper.  I got used to the pain and I could finally feel my legs in the way God intended.  But nothing and no one prepared me for the horror that was going on “downstairs” after having my tubes tied.

I’m writing this to prepare those of you who are considering a tubal after delivery — not to shock and awe.  Y’all need to be prepared for the freaking crime scene that you’re going to witness.  And not just immediately post-partum either, guys.  No, no.  Mason is 4.5 months old and I’m here to tell you that this mess seems like it is here to stay.  And man, oh, man is it getting old fast.

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I’m sure some of you are shaking your heads, “Nah.  It can’t be that bad.  Someone’s being a drama queen.”  Go ahead and take several seats, because no.  It’s awful.  Thinking about grabbing a box of tampons a month post delivery?  Think again, Nancy.  Go ahead and buy all the maxi pads from all the Targets within a hundred mile radius and you might have enough to get through the first month.  Don’t even think about wearing cute underwear unless you’re okay with them looking like they survived a zombie apocalypse.  “Oh, but I’ll buy the super plus tamp–” NO YOU WON’T.  Oh, honey, no.  Mother Nature beats the hell out of those things.  So just get used to the idea of wearing a diaper for at least the first six months if not longer.

There was a time in my life (about a year ago, actually) that my heaviest period lasted three days.  I never even thought about buying anything other than regular strength tampons.  In fact, I vividly remember gawking at the S+ boxes and wondering who on earth could possibly survive a period that crazy.  Y’ALL.  I AM NOW THAT WOMAN.  So go ahead and stock up on granny panties (they’re comfy as hell, guys) and a truckload of the biggest maxi pads you can find.  Also, Midol isn’t going to touch the cramps you’re going to battle.  Go to your local pharmacist, slip him a $20, and ask him on the DL to take the strongest stuff they’ve got and add about 100MG to it.  You’ll thank me later.

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What you’re going to experience, believe it or not, is normal.  You’re not bleeding out, you’re not going to die, and if your kids are like my kids, your offspring will learn to sense when you’re at that time of the month (sorry, boys!).  No kidding, my kids volunteered to unload the dishwasher, fold laundry, and bathe the baby for this last visit from my heavy-handed Aunt Flo.  And. it. was. INCREDIBLE.  Sure, I had to go back and relocate a few dishes and refold a few towels.  But beggars can’t be choosers, and I think it’s safe to say that my boys’ wives will one day be very happy, indeed.

Side note, the hospital you use will give you a ton of those massive pads if you ask for them upon leaving.  My nurse gave me six unopened packs, y’all.  Talk about not all heroes wear capes!  She officially made my Christmas card list.  So be sure to ask for those as well as the mesh undies.  They’re definitely not attractive and they do nothing for your backside, but they won’t irritate your incision and, believe me, you’ll be glad to have them.