Being Obsessive

It seems frightening to me to share my intimate thoughts and feelings with the world, but you only live once, right? My whole life I’ve kept some sort of journal, rather it was on paper or online, and I’ve been able to choose who I want to have access to them. It's time to join the rest of people my age and be a part of the blogging world. I can't keep all my toughts crammed away on paper or stored in my mind, it's time to let loose. So here goes nothing.

As a mother, I find myself obsessing over things that I never thought I’d obsess over. Hell, I’ve never been one to obsess over anything, so this is strange for me. I’ve become one of those over analytical - germaphobe mothers. Frankly, the kind of person I never wanted to be. I was sitting at the doctors office the other daywith one of my boys, and a teenager sneezed without covering her mouth! I wanted to slap her across her pimply face and her mother too for that matter. It was quite obvious that H1N1 is quite contagious, and that most of the children sitting there could cook an egg on their feverish heads and she sneezed without covering her mouth. Are you effing kidding me?!?! What kind of manners has that child learned? Ugh! Needless to say, I wanted to tuck my child underneath my shirt (don’t worry Alicia, I’d never do such a thing! Lol ) and protect him from all the funk that the room had been contaminated with. Gah, thinking about that makes my skin crawl!

For the almost three and a half years I’ve been a mother, I’ve wondered to whom I can place blame on my being obsessive. I haven’t always been that way, so what’s changed? I find myself stressing out WAY too much over breastfeeding my twins, and if I’m giving them enough, and if the routine I’ve set is what’s best, because there has to be a system that works better than the way I’ve doing things, right? Why can’t I be content and confident in myself with breastfeeding, it’s suppose to be a natural thing, not something that causes my neck to feel as if it’s in knots by the end of the day. Why didn’t anyone warn me how hard being a mommy really is? It’s not just losing independence or stinky diapers, or empty bank accounts, it’s so much more. But really, when it all comes down to it, when I go to sleep at night, I’m happy.

As much as I love my kids, I often feel very overwhelmed. I wonder, "what in the hell have I gotten myself into?" After a few days with the husband gone, my stress level sky rockets. A woman can only handle so much. After countless shitty diapers, 15 minute naps, temper tampers and whatever else my children like to throw my way, I'm done. I want a break. A long one. I then realize the importance of "me time." When I do manage to squeeze time for myself in the day, it's short lived. I feel guilty for leaving my husband alone with two screaming babies and an overly stimulated, energentic three year old. I need to realize that he can handle them by himself and that i'm not supermom. I realize I need to quit being obsessive.

So there we have it in a not-so-organized modge podge of words, my first blog etry. I did it. Sigh.