This blog is no longer about friends and family staying up to date with our family. This blog is now my journal. It's a different season of life and Facebook just isn't where you can go deep. I doubt anyone reads this now, but I know I do and my family will. And I want some place to go to document and record my struggle with motherhood. I hope my kids will read this one day and know, when they have kids, that I understand how hard it is. That I didn't get it right all the time. That I myself won't forget so that I can be present for them.

This morning began with a number 10 blow out with baby girl over a pair of shoes. I look back to examine the trigger and I cannot even identify it. It's like these things just happen, they just explode and sometimes you can pinpoint the moment to fix, other times like today, it's just a grenade thrown into our house. Except we live with this grenade. Ella's shoes were too small, so I told her we have to put them away now, they're hurting her feet. I gave her another option for school today which she said were not school shoes. So I said ok I'll go downstairs and see if I can find a hand me down or something that she might have grown into. I put a pair of brand new black Merrell Mary Janes in front of her and the bomb detonated. There was screaming, throwing, kicking, and yelling. When a loud explosion like that happens, both Roq and I run to ground zero and I think sometimes that's where the chaos ensues. He's asking me what happened, I'm trying to yell it over the blare, I start trying to handle it, he starts trying to handle it while I am dealing with the wall of emotion that is charging at me and about to take over me. I can't see anything, I can't sift through it. I just feel overwhelmed.

What is the lesson? What is her consequence? There was no time to execute anything. Is there a point since there will be a all of school in between the incident and her consequence. If I let this go, will it be worse the next time. What is she learning? Am I validating her? Am I not firm enough with her? Am I too firm? Who do you go to during these moments of utter and complete loss. I feel like every mom needs a 24 hour counselor to talk her off the ledge the six times of the day she goes there.

I love being a mother, but I hate the doing it.