A Shower, Self-esteem and Kids

I have always struggled with esteem. I am not sure what it is but, it has always alluded me. It does not help, that I am really shy (believe or not) and self conscious. With that being said, I am finding as I age – things change (good, bad, wrinkly and SOUTH) and I am coming to terms (like a bad contract with tons of small print) and into my own a little more each, well, week okay maybe each month, let’s try for a little more each year. I have no problem with aging though. I love that I am getting closer to 40…We woman get better not older (my mom said that, please don’t burst this bubble for me) The other plus side to aging is that I am starting to realize the things that I thought mattered- don’t. Don’t get me wrong there are other things about myself that make me want to puke, or hysterically laugh like a Hyena…I digress. 😉

ANYWHO…so much for staying on task.

No one told me what life was like with kids – I am talking REAL life…the blogs in the near future will give you insight to what I am I am referring to.

Let me explain how those two things GO together. When I gave birth…no one said to me welcome to having an audience for the rest of your life…and unlike the TV your watching, your audience is in full active participation of the show your hosting.

So, I try my hardest to always get the little humans busy so I can shower in peace. Mostly because I do not need an audience with me for this event.  Without fail, they are in there within minutes. All of them. It always starts out – “hey can you draw me in the fog?” Of course, that will always come while I have soap dripping down my face. There am I am drawing on the glass with one hand and trying to keep from going blind with the other. Then the cycle continues, “hey can you sing, hey can you – ”

But the real problem comes once the fog is gone. “What is that!?? Is that your belly? Why do you have that scar? Is that hair? Your Butt is”... I could get more graphic but you get the picture…
All the while you want to scream at them – seriously? Do you know that you little – you did this to me. I used to be okay! (AND HERE IS WHERE YOUR ESTEEM CHANGES) You pause and your brain starts an all new line of thinking : I think that I used to be okay…? Wait was this what I always looked like? And if they are noticing this stuff, How bad is it? Hair is hair right? Do you think that this is what all people look like? I mean they are young and always say nice things to their moms right? WOW it must be bad. Is this what I look like from behind? Are your butt cheeks suppose to rest on the back of your knees? I hope they keep these secrets to themselves. Ugh, is there a soap for this or that?

Just when you feel like you’ve hit bottom, they start to fight and you have to get out. Thinking today – today is the day I will make an effort to be put together. But the fighting continues and you end up – putting on your “fancy” pants (other wise known as: given ups, sweats, sweat pants, yoga pants, elastic lovers, cotton cozies, call them what you will) and realize as you look in the mirror…Well it could be worse, I could have not fit into these and my face could have… no wait, I don’t and I do!

Good thing, I managed to draw a pretty good giraffe on the glass today. I am sure that is a talent worth bragging about.  We won’t even go into my shower singing talents…OFF. THE.CHARTS. I am sure in the end – those are the things my kids came upstairs for, not to break me a little more each day.

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About snotarant

i am a janitor, maid, haus frau, mother to a five pack, a listener, a hugger, a sigher, a happier, a wine lover, a foodie, a hunter, a gatherer, a cook, a wife, a mother, a triplet mom, pedicure lover, a hugger, a crier, and sometimes just me... AND beware. I write like I talk...a little - well un-correct.
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One Response to A Shower, Self-esteem and Kids

  1. scavnicky says:

    Scars, like wrinkles, represent special moments- both good and bad, and life. We don’t have much control over anything. I only just met you, but everything looks nice and north! I agree that “women get better, not older.” I wish I could write more, but my little monkey is climbing on me. Keep up the good work, SUPER MOM!

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