Confessions from a Thirty Something Momma

Some weeks back I had the fortunate opportunity of going away for a Mom's retreat. What I envisioned and expected was to spend a weekend with other Moms (of children who have special needs) in some sort of hotel or inn setting. Probably sharing a room. I also expected to have some sessions for crafting and talking and whatever my past experiences of retreats have been.  I hadn't expected to experience a weekend of such luxury. There were only 4 of us women present and we stayed t a luxurious upscale home on the beach. We're talking private pool, hot tub, and beach access. Full body messages, delicious dinners, and a wonderful evening boat trip. All were amazing. But the most luxurious part of all was the invitation to rest. I was asked to lay my burdens down and just rest. I slept in. Breakfast and coffee awaited me when I awoke. I took a stroll on the beach alone with my thoughts. Oh it was a haven to say the least. We each had our own room. The room I stayed i...

The more I swap stories with other Moms, the more I hear about the fateful day, when they ended up hiding out in the closet in tears. This story echoes from the lips of many Moms who have been in my shoes, at home all day with little ones. At one point or the other, these  Mommas are inundated to the point of desperation. Overwhelmed, they crawl into the closet, shutting out the kids, the world, and the difficulties of life, and relieve their stresses with a good ole fashion cry. I have yet to go into my closet for this fateful cry. I have been close many many times, mind you. Usually, I end up picking up the phone and asking for help in the middle of tears. Or I may shut down entirely, experiencing a temporary moment of despair or the like. The constant noise of Mickey Mouse Roadhouse, cars crashing into walls, whining and crying, and the cranky napless children that perpetuate these noises often leave me feeling exhausted beyond belief. The most incredulous part is that I a...

Dear Onlookers at Walmart,  As you stare at me with judgment because my kid is having a royal meltdown, you are welcome to spend a day in my shoes. My toddler is teething his 2nd upper molars. I invite you to offer him several meal options all day, all which will be refused, because he is in pain. I invite you to stand in line while he screams in your ear because you are attempting to purchase the only food you HOPE he will comsume. I invite you to continue to wait in line while he wails and scream and cries because he's so hungry he can't snap himself out of it. I then invite you to drive home with your ears still ringing from his royal meltdown. If you prefer to reject my invitation and stick with your lot, which includes being inconvenienced by this experience for 5 minutes, then please reserve your dirty looks for someone else.  They are most certainly not welcome here.