I'm A Recovering Perfectionist

This post was originally published on Her View From Home.

Before kids and honestly, even almost up until I had my second child, my Type A personality led to toxic perfectionism in my life. I wasn’t aware of my unrealistically high, perfect standards being detrimental. I thought I simply had boundaries and standards and was adult enough to be aware of them and strive to live according to them. 

Boy, was I way off the mark.

Scheduling works for me. I’m a planner through and through, both with my physical planner and the calendar app on my phone. (Excessive, I know, but bear with me). I thrive on routines, and honestly, my kids do, too, so these are essentially my lifeline. I want nothing more than a clean house, things organized and put in their place at the end of the day, and nothing makes me happier than clear communication even if it takes a little more effort.

Now don’t get me wrong, all of these things are great and have a place in life, but allowing ridiculously high levels of perfectionism to rule your life can become heavily detrimental.

I was becoming so caught up in what I wanted my life to be like that I was letting everything else pass me by.

I didn’t see my husband bending over backward, doing his absolute best, to try to please me and reach my high standards. I was only aware of how he was falling short of what I expected although I never verbalized my expectations—I simply thought he knew. This hurt our relationship. Thankfully, now we are fine, but it took him pointing out the error in my ways to make things better. I had to let go of who I used to be and adapt to my new life of mom and SAHM in order to get me out of my downward spiral.

Adapt and overcome should be the motto of motherhood.

We constantly have to go with the flow and change our plans, even when that’s the last thing we want to do. You have to grow in more ways than one when you become a spouse, and then again when you become a mom for the first time, and even more so when you have more children. Being aware of this and letting go of my perfectionist ways literally changed my life for the better. 

I used to think I could do all the things, be all the places, and be all the people I was supposed to be: wife, mom, daughter, sister, friend, church member. Now I realize I can do all of these things and be all of these people, I have simply realized I just can’t do them all at the same time. That is the key, my friends.

You absolutely can be the good wife, spend time with your kids, limit screen time, cook healthy meals, exercise, work, run all the errands, call your parents, sleep, see your friends, and have a hobby.

You simply can’t do them all at once—not on the same day, and honestly, maybe not even in the same month.

Realizing this unrealistic, completely toxic standard I had set for myself was a turning point in my life. Letting go of it took some major adjustments, some I still work on daily, but being aware of the fact that my perfectionism was becoming a problem was monumental.

Now instead of being consumed with a checklist of things that need to be done, I’m doing my best to be more aware of when I am letting a toxic perfectionist thought creep in and take over my mind. It isn’t the end of the world if the dishes sit in the sink overnight, or even for two days.

But, it is the end of the world if I let moments with my kids slip by because I am so consumed with my house and life being in Type A order.

This lifestyle change took a lot of effort. I still work on it daily. But I’m here to tell you there is light at the end of the tunnel. If you feel completely overwhelmed and like you can’t ever accomplish anything on your never-ending to-do list, then hear me out. Take a step back and evaluate if your standards are set much too high. Step back and see if you are prioritizing the wrong things at the wrong time and if that is the source of your consuming thoughts and stress.

There is a time for everything. Just remember you can’t do it all at once, and you can’t do it all alone. Hang in there, mama.

It's OK If Your First Child Breaks You

This post was originally published on Her View From Home.

My first child broke me. He split me right apart. Broke my heart and mind into tiny pieces I never thought would go back together.

Absolutely none of it was his fault. Not even the tiniest bit of it. He was simply the catalyst. That precious little boy turned me into a mama and, therefore, knocked my world off its axis. My head spun for months with no real direction.

I wasn’t prepared in the slightest. And even that feels like the understatement of the decade.

My sweet first-born threw me into a new world of less me and more we. I was no longer an independent woman—I had a tiny human I had to cater to, raise, and most importantly, keep alive. My days were long and my nights were even longer.

I questioned every single move I made daily, to the point of causing nearly debilitating anxiety.

I lacked the energy and personality I had pre-kid. I didn’t have the desire to change out of pajamas, much less leave the house. I didn’t care to engage in conversation with my husband, or really anyone else, anymore—I was too tired to try, and I sure didn’t want to argue. (Why does no one talk about the post-baby marriage exhaustion? It’s a real thing.)

I retreated into a person I didn’t recognize. I truly struggled.

But, I eventually overcame.

I didn’t realize having a child would be as difficult as it was. I didn’t realize how much my life would change. Call it oblivion, immaturity, or just general cluelessness. Maybe you could chalk it up to only seeing the good things on social media about having a baby. Who knows, really? I’m leaning toward a mixture of a little bit of all of it.

Why didn’t anyone tell me this? People always make out the hard part to be the labor and delivery—the actual act of pushing the baby out. Don’t get me wrong, that’s hellacious in its own right, but I didn’t realize that the true hardships come once you bring that baby home.

You attempt to change your entire life, literally, almost overnight. It’s earth-shattering.

If I could go back and tell my pre-kid self anything it would be this: it’s OK if your first child breaks you.

My sweet, precious, first baby boy taught me more than anyone else ever has, and probably ever will. I needed to be broken. I needed to fall apart. I needed to experience all the things I did because it made me into the person, and mama, I am now. I needed him to do it.

My second child was a vastly different experience.

I learned not to question my every move. I learned mother’s intuition is a real thing and I should listen to it. She showed me I don’t necessarily have to do things by the book.

As I held her as a newborn in my arms while I watched my toddler son play, I realized I am capable. I am enough. I do have the ability to do this all over again.

Yes, it was hard the first time. So incredibly hard. Truly, nothing could have prepared me for it. But the second go-around—I was ready. Wiser. Less scared. More in the groove of being a mom. More in tune with the baby, and even more in tune with the now-toddler running around.

My first-born made me question everything in me.

My second child helped me realize I am a good mom. I can do this.

I can learn from my first experience and I can prosper. I can love my babies, teach them, and grow with them. I can let go of the fear of the unknown I carried bottled inside with my first child. I can now face the unknown head-on because I know it’s OK to figure it all out as I go. No one has it all figured out. (And if they say they do, they’re lying).

My sweet children have shown me more about the world in less than three years than any other experience in life ever could. They each have shaped me and molded me into a better person in their own tiny, unique ways.

My first child broke me. But, I needed it.

Maybe I needed to grow up. Maybe I needed to be brought out of my oblivion. Maybe I needed to be less selfish. Maybe I needed to realign my life priorities. Maybe it was a combination of all of that and more. I may never know the truth, but I know I wouldn’t be the mama I am today without it.

Sometimes I Forget My Husband Is Tired Too

This post was originally published on Her View From Home.

I’m not going to lie, it wasn’t the best day for me. There were lots of tears and episodes of spit-up.

I was ready for my husband to be home an hour before he ever was.

When he finally got home, he dealt with the toddler so I could tend to the baby and get her to bed. 

We had a big list of things to do that night—cleaning, organizing, and decluttering the basement. 

Once I got the baby to bed, cleaned up, put dinner away, and my husband still wasn’t downstairs, I got angry.

Fast. Too fast.

Why was I doing all of this by myself? We usually split these chores at night. 

Why was he hiding upstairs? 

So I took my anger and went to the basement to try to start the work we needed to get done. 

Lo and behold, I couldn’t do any of it because I wasn’t strong enough. 

Cue more anger. 

I took my collected anger and irritation from the day and marched it all straight upstairs to tell him to come and help me. 

That’s when I found this—him asleep with the baby on his chest.

I instantly felt so much guilt. 

Why did I let myself get worked up over him not being there to help me clean the kitchen? 

Why did I let my anger from the day continue to fuel my evening? The only two hours I get to spend with my husband each day.

He’s worked hard all day.

He’s tired, too.

He came home and held the crying baby so I could have a five-minute break. He put the toddler to bed I’ve had to pretty much argue with all day. 

He helped because he cared. He helped because he loves us. 

They both fell asleep. Exhausted from their albeit different days. 

My anger is now gone. It’s been replaced with gratitude. 

I needed tonight to play out exactly how it did.

Anger and all. 

I needed to be put in my place.

Without it, I wouldn’t have been able to witness this.

Dear Child Of Divorce, It's Not Your Fault

This post was originally published on Her View From Home.

It’s not your fault. None of it is. You are not to blame in any of this. How could you be? You are young and innocent and oh, so brave for traveling the road before you.

You will learn lessons many don’t learn until well into their adult years.

You will probably also have to fight many battles a child should never have to face.

I just want you to remember—none of it is your fault. 

Some people just aren’t meant to be together, and in your case, that’s your parents. I know it’s hard.

God hears the prayers of a child, so seek Him. But do not be discouraged if He doesn’t grant you the desire in your heart and the wish for your parents to get back together. You don’t know it now, but He is in control. I promise, sometimes this is for the better.

I’m sorry you are a witness to arguments. More than you should be as a child. You may feel the weight of them on your shoulders, but they are not your fault.

I’m sorry you feel the need to take sides in a situation that is much greater and more complex than you can understand right now. One day you will get the chance to see all angles, and I hope you have the grace to extend forgiveness to your parents and to who you were back then. 

It’s OK to be scared. It’s OK to not understand right now. Your parents probably don’t comprehend everything either. 

It’s not your fault you feel caught up in a whirlwind. It’s not fair you don’t have the ability to recognize the fear and anxiety inside of you.

I’m sorry you have to grow up faster than your friends.

It’s not your fault you must pack a suitcase often and rotate clothes between houses so your friends don’t notice you wearing the same five outfits to school every other week. 

It’s not your fault people may seem to pity you. Do not let their feelings make you feel sorry for yourself. You are strong and capable, and you can handle this. It may seem overwhelming now, but one day you will see the immense strength you carried through your childhood. 

It’s not your fault you must find a way to balance other adult’s feelings on top of the load you already carry for yourself.

It’s not your fault if you have to ask for help. It’s OK to cry. It’s OK to reach out. I hope you have someone in your corner.

I’m sorry you feel left out when you visit friend’s houses who don’t have divorced parents. I’m sorry this makes you feel inadequate. Please know you aren’t less than.

The anger you witness is not your fault.

The sadness that sometimes engulfs you is not your fault.

 The worry that churns in your stomach is not your fault.

 The fear that takes residence in your body is not your fault.

These are big feelings for a tiny person, and I’m sorry they’re on your plate.

You will grow and learn, and one day you will look back and see all the ways you had to mature faster than you should have. You will see your strength. You will see the love. You will find a place of forgiveness in your heart for all of your memories once deemed unfair and tragic. 

Your parents still love you even if they don’t love each other anymore. Don’t ever forget that.

Dear child, things are hard for both you and your parents. They are trying to make choices that are best for themselves and for you, and I am sorry you are being pulled into the mix. 

It’s not your fault. None of it is.

I Am A Mama But I Am His Wife First

This post was originally published on Her View From Home.

My husband and I just had our first night away from our children in over a year. We’ve had simple overnight trips planned before this one, but they always fell through for various reasons: sick kids, issues with work, a freaking global pandemic—if you name it, then we’ve had it cancel our plans. It got to the point I was about ready to just give up putting any more effort into aligning our schedules, childcare, everyone’s health, setting money aside, and booking a trip. I was putting in so much effort for it just to be dashed every time, for over a year.

Do you hear me whining? It’s because I am. (First-world problems, I know.)

Well, somehow the stars aligned, Satan decided to thwart someone else’s plans for the weekend, no one was sick even amongst the coronavirus chaos, my husband took the day off, and we had someone to watch our kids. I couldn’t believe it. To say I was excited could possibly be the understatement of the year.

But then the weekend started creeping up on me. With each day that passed, I started listing off all the reasons we didn’t need to spend a night away from the kids.

What if one of them gets sick? What if we bring coronavirus back into our home? What if the baby won’t eat while we are gone? What if she won’t sleep? I worked so hard to get her on a schedule, and I sure didn’t want that messed up. Should we really spend this much money on a simple two-day trip? Shouldn’t we just spend time with the family members who are watching the kids that we don’t get to see that often anyway?

All the what-ifs hanging in the balance before me were daunting. Did I want a night away and time with my husband? Absolutely. Did I want to go through all the effort it takes just to have that one night away? No, not really. I already had enough on my plate.

Well, let me tell you, sister, it was more than worth it.

All the wondering and worrying and what-ifs were gone the moment we hit the road. My husband and I got to spend quality time together outside our home. We ate at a real restaurant, not Mcdonald’s. There were no crying children. We stayed out until after dark. I forgot what cities look like at night. We went for ice cream. We took a nap at four o’clock in the afternoon. We answered to no one but each other for a day and a half and not only was it every bit of glorious, it was needed.

The busyness of life makes us put our marriage on the back burner more often than I like to admit, but this quick trip made me realize I can’t let that happen anymore. Yes, I am mama, but I am also wife, and I was wife first. My children need to see us putting in extra effort to keep our marriage alive, happy, and afloat. I want my kids to see that it takes planning, and even more than that it takes desire, to make things work.

As much as I love being mama, I don’t want to lose myself so much in my children that when they move out my husband and I are strangers.

Mama, don’t let all the lingering, listed to-dos overwhelm you to the point that you don’t even want to try to invest in your marriage. As hard as it is to set aside time, money, and align everything else in order to get just a measly one night away–do it. Don’t think twice about it. You will thank yourself for it in the end.

I’m sure of it.