steak dinners, luther vandross, and deep deep grief

This season has been incredibly hard for me.  There have been several things that have just been looming over my head, my mind, my thoughts.  But in the self-protective way that I do, I push it under the surface and pretend that everything is okay.  I move on.  I keep going.  I have become pretty good at acting, pretty good at pretending that this isn’t killing me. 

Two and a half years later and I still can’t really come to grips with the fact that you’re actually gone.  That it really is over.  That I won’t ever  see you here again.  I can go into “fact mode” and discuss it.  I can talk about details and what happened.  But when I do, it is shallow.  It is from a third party perspective. It isn’t personal.  I don’t feel a connection to it, it is as if I am telling a story about someone else, but it is even more impersonal than that.  I suppress the hurt, the pain, the grief.  I push it aside.  I cant tell the story no problem. 

At Kylie’s school recently I had a mom ask me questions about how you died.  And I easily went into the story.  It was no problem and I felt nothing at all.  There was no personal connection to it at all.  I told her how you died in your sleep.  I told her how I went into action mode, I called people, I notified everyone, I talked to the medical examiner.  I made Dad eat.  I did all of that.  I was the adult.  I took care of everyone.  And it was mostly easy to talk about.  It is easier to pull myself out of it than to accept the reality. But really?  I died a little that day.  Calling people killed me.  Hearing everyone’s grief, all of their reactions, those notifications killed me in a way that I shouldn’t have had to experience.  This shouldn’t have been my job.  But it was.  And since it was, I have to remove myself from that pain because it is just too much to bear.  I just can’t really handle it.  It still isn’t real.  You being gone, mom, just can’t be real.

A few days after that instance at the school, I was in the kitchen washing dishes when the dog started barking.  The first thought that went through my head was that perhaps we had a surprise visitor.  The first person I hoped it was?  You.  In one instant I had true real hope that you were at my door and in those nanoseconds in my brain I had a full rollercoaster of emotions.  Hope to see you.  Reality of you being gone.  Sadness of missing you.  Feeling like an idiot for forgetting.  And crashing into despair that I’ll never see you here again.  All of this happened in an instant but it was so real.  Once again I had to bury it.  That rollercoaster was way too heavy to be able to deal with.  I can’t handle that disappointment, that reality.

Christmas Eve service was outside.  It was dusk.  I was standing at our seats with the kids when a woman gasped in horror and then said my name with relief.  For an instant she thought I was you.  And she went on a little of the rollercoaster that I had gone on that night where I thought you might be at my door.  And the moments after might have been a little awkward for both of us, but I found myself comforting her, and again assuring her that I was okay.  I took care of her.  I removed myself again from my own pain and took care of this sweet woman.  It has become my role, to care for others who have lost you.

I did my best this season to not mourn you, to not miss you.  I tried hard to pretend like it was all okay.  But somehow you kept coming up in every situation.  The past week or so I have been dreading today.  New Year’s Eve.  You and Dad’s anniversary.  New Years Eve was always about you two.  And I don’t mean that in a bad way, either.  It was a happy day and I loved how special it was for the two of you.  I just keep having this flashback of this memory I have, my favorite New Year’s Eve memory.  I can’t get past it, can’t get it out of my mind. 

We were in the Continental Ranch house, I had to be in middle school.  It was before you redid the house.  We were in those big rolling chairs at the kitchen table.  It was your anniversary, New Years Eve, but you guys decided to spend it with us.  We were having a candlelit dinner. It was steak, but I don’t remember what else was on our plates.  Dad had gotten new thick blown glass wine glasses from Five Bridges, I think, and we had Martinelli’s in them. Dad whisked you into the dimly lit living room to dance to Luther Vandross with you. 

I remember feeling embarrassed to be witnessing this intimate moment between the two of you.  You guys slow dancing in the near dark to your wedding song, I was wishing to be anywhere else, wishing that you guys had the privacy you deserved.  But there was also a part of me that felt happy.  Happy that you guys loved each other, happy that you didn’t hide it, and hopeful that someday I would find a man who would slow dance with me and romance me that way. 

But now I am so glad that I have that moment to remember.  I am so glad that you shared that evening with us.  It is really truly one of my absolute favorite memories.  I have had a heavy heart for a couple days…I have been deeply missing you.  As I have been trying to hold the tears at bay, I have also been able to reminisce on this one particular memory.  This memory isn’t tainted by any sadness.  It makes me smile every time I think of it. 

I can hear the words of the song in my head.  I can see you swaying to the music.  I can almost feel the butterflies in your stomach, the smile on your heart.  It makes me long to go back there…to not only remember it, but to experience it again.  To hear you, to see you, for you to be real.  For you to not be a distant fading memory anymore, a topic that I avoid, a non-personal fact.  I want you to go back to being my mom. To dancing in the dark with Dad.  To being Kylie’s best friend.  To being our rock and supporter.  To fighting for the hearts of my family.  To being a prayer warrior for us. 

I need you to help explain to me why.  Why would you take a risk like this?  Why would you choose that medication when you knew the risks? In order for me to really be able to process this, to be able to accept it, I need to be able to talk to you.  You are the only person who can help me through this and you are also the only person who can’t be here to help me through it.  I think this is why I feel so lost about it all.  This is why I have to make it a fact, an impersonal and unattached fact.  But you can’t stay that way.  Because fact is, I ache for you.  I miss you so deeply that everything about me is scarred by the loss of you.  I am no longer me, I am a numb, cold,  robot version of who I used to be.  I long to go back to candlelit steak dinners with you and Dad dancing to Luther Vandross.  I long to curl up in your bed and watch movies with you.  I hurt, mom.  I hurt without you and I don’t know how to keep going.  I feel stuck and trapped here and I don’t know how to change that.    

This mama bear ain’t hibernating!

Contrary to the obnoxious preteen and teen that I was, I am not confrontational.  I have become a doormat, I don’t stand up for myself, and I allow myself to get hurt.  I allow other people’s words to cut and I just turn the other way.  This may be true of me now, but when it comes to my kids I am a fierce mama bear and no matter what, I will not allow anyone to hurt them nor rip away their innocence. 

I have been given the gift of my children’s hearts and I will be a mighty warrior to protect them.  If that means I have to stand up to someone, I will.  If that means I jump in front of a bullet, I will. If this means I have to confront other parents, I most certainly will. 

 I want to keep their innocence as long as possible.  They have their whole lives to be adults, to be grown-ups.  I want them to be kids as long as possible.  That being said, they do have chores and responsibilities because building character is also an important part of raising a child. 

 The topic of Santa can be somewhat controversial in the Christian community.  Some say it takes away from the Savior’s birth, some say it is too “secular”.  To an extent that might be true, but how is it any different from meeting Mickey at Disneyland? He isn’t Christ-centered, he isn’t “real”.  But to the kids he is, and there is magic and innocence there.  There is joy that comes from that innocence. 

 We had originally decided not to participate in the Santa charade.  I mean, why give a chubby old man in a suit credit for our hard work?  Why lie to my kids when it is only going to break their hearts later?   I mean, Santa should be going to jail for a B and E anyway, right?  Not to mention….how many strange old men do you trust to hold your children on their laps?  Have you checked watch dog for Santa?  No?  Exactly.  It doesn’t quite add up.  Any other man who persuades little kids to sit on their laps with the promise of a gift at the end would be shipped off and registered.  But not Santa. 

 But guess what?  Kylie came home from kindergarten (her first time…public school) and had learned all about Santa.  And there was excitement, expectations, and joy in that little five year-old’s face.  That magic, that innocence was so tangible and real that we could not possibly break it.  It was important to us to let the girl dream.  We did discuss it; we did toss back and forth different ideas and try to make the best decision for our family.  And that was letting our kids believe in Santa.  It has been so precious to watch their excitement and see that magic.  It has been an amazing gift to us to be able to participate in blessing our children this way.

 I would not do it differently.  I am glad we chose this.  It brings a smile to my own face to be able to be part of this.  My kids are still grateful, generous kids filled with love for others, and love for Jesus.  Santa hasn’t robbed them of any of that.  This year we started the elf on the shelf and the excitement every morning to go find the elf is just as precious as their excitement for Santa.  It makes me wish that I could be a kid again.  It makes me long for my innocence, too.

 One reason why I am so intent on protecting my kid’s innocence is because mine was ripped away from me at an early age.  This isn’t a topic I share with just anyone, and I am not going to go into details, but because of my life experiences I choose to protect my kids to the very best of my ability.  And this is also one of the reasons why I choose to run a daycare.  Some of my issues came from a daycare setting and I have sacrificed a ton to keep my children out of any kind of daycare.  I have been extra careful how I choose my babysitters and who I allow into my kids’ lives.  I work hard to create a safe and happy place for not only my kids but others as well.  And I fall in love with any kid that is in my care.  I will also protect them with my mother bear love.  They deserve innocence too.  Every child deserves innocence and magic in their lives.  Every kid deserves to be a kid. 

 Santa was somewhat outed this year to Kylie from a girl at school.  I had a little panic attack, and didn’t want her to grow up.  But my 7 year-old, decided to hold on to her innocence.  She really didn’t even question it, in fact, she was very worried that this other girl might not get presents for Christmas.  She wanted this other girl to have joy and magic in her life, too.  Her deep concern was so special to me and I knew that we had not harmed her by choosing to participate in Santa. 

 All this being said, Santa is each family’s choice and of course I respect your choice.  But please do not let your lack of magic ruin my kids’ innocence and magic.  I might have to go mama bear on you and trust me, you do not want to see that.  Really.  You don’t. 

 Anyhow…merry Christmas from the Salgado’s, Buddy the Elf, and Santa even if you’re a non-believer! .....just try to keep your non-believing kids away from mine! ;-)

30 days of thanks....what's that about?!?!

Every year in November a whole bunch of my Facebook friends go through their daily thankfulness routine.  To be honest, I have never participated.  Of course I have things to be grateful for but it can be quite obnoxious, especially when we are struggling.  There have been years where we can barely feed ourselves and everyone else seems to be flaunting everything they have.  Every day.  All the time.  And I would sit here and be all like, stop it.  Get over yourself! 

Something is different this year, though.  I have been so sad and angry; all my blogs are so deep and dark.  My thoughts are that of someone deeply suffering and feeling stuck.   Everyone says things like, “have you prayed about it?”  Or, “Lean on God.”  And I internally roll my eyes because the “person” that I am most angry with?  Yeah that’s this God guy that you keep trying to point me to.  So, no…I have NOT prayed about it and I canNOT lean on Him.  He is the one who took my mom from me in her sleep, safe in her bed.  He is the one who ripped out my daughter’s heart when he took her best friend. How can He be trusted? 

But I am so tired of being so dark and angry all the time.  I am so sick of it all.  So, I felt like what I need most is an attitude check.  Because of that, I have decided to attempt the 30 days of thanks.  I want my thankfulness to hopefully remind me what I still have.  And it seems like it will be hard to find 30 things to be thankful for.  I have nothing to flaunt or to brag about, so I know I’m not going to be one of those people.  I am not able to pretend to be all perfect, because I am broken and can’t hide that fact.  But I am hoping for a bit of a transformation in my way of thinking.  I am so focused on the bad, the angry, the dark and I want to have to work really hard to remember what this season is about.

I am not the first person to deal with tragedy, with loss, with pain.  We all have it to one degree or another.  But I do wonder, why am I stuck here?  What is it about me that can’t let go?  That can’t forgive?  That can’t move on?  What is that about really? I fear these questions will never be answered.  I fear that I will be stuck here forever, unable to fully grieve, unable to let go, unable to trust. But for now, what I CAN do is to be grateful, to focus on my blessings, and to allow myself to be blessed.  I may not be moving past the anger I have regarding my mom’s death, but perhaps I can sideline it a little and allow myself to love and be loved, to bless and be blessed, and to smile. 

The things that we do have do not come easily to us.  Raul and I work our butts off trying to make it.  He works full time from 7:45-5:00 Tuesday- Saturday and then works from 6pm-2am two-five nights a week.  I have a full time daycare from about 6:20am-6:00pm Monday-Friday. We are exhausted and never see each other anymore.  But do you know what?  We are lucky.  Yes, I did just say that.  We are lucky that we have not only the opportunity to support our family, but the work ethic to do so.  Though we may sacrifice time together, we truly understand what it is to succeed, to support ourselves, and to be able to fully take care of ourselves.  And it is worth it. 

Hopefully, it will not be forever.  Hopefully there will come a time where we aren’t killing ourselves just to make ends meet…but you know what?  Ends meet.  And that feels good.  Sometimes ends even overlap a little and that is even better.  I am truly grateful for the time that we spend apart.  Yes, I miss my husband.  Yes, my kids ask me, “are we ever going to have a daddy?” Yes, sometimes I miss my kids because I am so busy caring for other kids that sometimes I miss out on time with mine.  But my kids are fed, clothed, and loved.  And you know what?  They know they are loved.  They are happy, healthy, and behaved.  They are secure in who they are and they are learning through our example how to be hard workers and to not expect other’s to carry them. 

So for this I am grateful.  This is not flaunting in any way.  Like I said, there is nothing to flaunt.  We are making it through lots of sweat and tears.  Raul and I have a healthy relationship.  Why?  Not because we are perfect or because we are just so in love (I mean, we ARE in love), but because we have worked at our relationship and we have struggled together.  There have been hundreds of times where we have looked each other in the eye knowing we probably won’t still be married by the next day.  But you know what?  We are.  And it isn’t because it’s been easy.  But I will tell you, I am so beyond grateful for my amazing husband.  No, he isn’t perfect.  Yes, we have deeply hurt each other in the past.  But let me tell you, he is my best friend, my partner, and I would marry him again. 

I am choosing good.  I am choosing happy.  And I am choosing to make a daily public declaration of what I am thankful for.  I am choosing a better attitude, just the same way that we have chosen to work hard for us and for our family.  We have so much to be thankful for, and I am choosing to be just that.  Thankful.  So, get used to it. 

Green machine

Okay, I'll admit it. I'm a bit jealous. I've been longing to write, to blog, to vent. I need to just let it all out, to release some of the tension that is still building on this dam of mine. I am again at the point of explosion, of utter desperation. The fear of letting others see the dark abyss that has become my heart has taken over and I have worked with all my might to hold the flood waters in, to smile and pretend as if I've got it all together. Then my best friend goes and writes two amazing, deep, and raw with truth blogs in the past 24 hours and it made me jealous.

She and I have so much in common, we have such a similar past, and we both find release in our writing. We've both had similar fears and are haunted with some unfortunate demons. So her ability to let it all out there in a way that it seems only she and I can, made me long for the same experience. Reading her blogs full of struggle and hurt, echoing feelings that resignate with my very soul, reminded me of how much I needed this therapy.

I have got to work past the fear of what others think, the fear of not being loved or accepted. The fear of the rumors, the condemnation, the constant judgments. I have got to just be me. I have got to move on.

I have been so deeply consumed by the anger that is pent up within me. I am angry that my mother is dead. I am angry that I feel little or no connection to others, that I am out of place everywhere. I am so very angry that I don't feel loved or plugged in at church, that I am constantly under a microscope and am the subject of gossip.

I am angry at a very specific someone who repeatedly hurt me throughout my adolescent years, someone who was supposed to be a leader and instead put me down at every turn. And what bothers me most about this person is that he/she is so blind to this that they go on and act like they didn't play a crucial role into a large sum of my insecurities. And not only that, but he/she is a leader still and puts on a show of love and acceptance of others so I am unsure. Am I that unlovable that I was and am unworthy of this person's acceptance? What is so wrong with me that a person who preaches and teaches love from the pulpit could possibly be so cruel and uncaring? Does he/she feel no shame?

I feel like I've been cemented in this place. This place of deep anger and questioning. Why can't I move past this anger towards people, family, and worst of all, God?  Why am I stuck in this aching bitterness? Why can't I move on? Why can't I just accept that my mom is gone? Why can't I just ignore the voices from that leader that echo in my head daily; the words he/she uttered to me, "I've always cringed every time i saw your name on a sign up sheet." Those words among others haunt me all the time. They've made me feel that people don't love me, like me, or care for me, they simply tolerate me, if even that.

Why must I be cemented here? Why must the abuse I endured as a child, the verbal abuse in my adolescence, the loss of my mom and other life circumstances define me? Why must I be stuck in such a depraved state of absolute constant anxiety? Depression? Anger? Resentment?

I so long to be one of those sweet moms who everyone loves and looks forward to be around. Why can't I just smile? Why can't I be fun? Why was my life chosen to be so darn complicated? Why is my life in the depths of despair when it should be unicorns and butterflies?

I just long for a way to move past all of this. I long to be free from holding this dam, with all the pressure of grief, anger, bitterness, and unforgiveness folding in and spilling all around me. I long to be free. Is that really too much to ask? I also long to be loved, genuinely loved by those around me. I long to be cherished and to be thought of as special. I long to be human.

Hi, my name's Ally, and I'm an addict....

I find it incredibly difficult to not try to validate my self-worth through other people.  People are there, they are tangible, audible, visible.  They are real.  I can actually feel their love or their hate.  I work so hard to try to please everyone, to have everyone like me.  The idea that someone is upset with me or doesn’t like me kills me.  It literally causes me to have trouble breathing. 

That is why conflict is so hard for me.  I avoid it like the plague.  Anyone who has known me for a long time would suggest otherwise, as when I was young I could definitely be confrontational, in your face, and spoke my mind.  But I have changed over the years, don’t we all?  With my severe anxiety and already cultivated people pleasing personality that I was born with, conflict has become even more difficult for me.    

 People walk all over me, take advantage of me, stress me out, and the worst part is, I allow it.  My cousin Todd wrote on my Facebook a while back that when I don’t stand up for myself, I am allowing others to take advantage of me.  It is me giving them permission to walk all over me.  It is like I am placing myself as a door mat and then am hurt and upset when people walk all over me.  Well, it stopped yesterday.  I stood up for myself.  I stopped allowing people to demean and belittle me, to cause unnecessary drama in my life, and instead of being passive I was strong.  I stuck to my policies, my rights, and to what I deserve as a person, let alone a business owner.  I am not a doormat any longer.  I will no longer put myself in that position.  Todd, I hear you.  I am not giving others permission to take advantage of me ever again. 

As a result of this, I actually terminated care with a certain family.  As a people pleaser this was so difficult to do.  I have endured a lot of abuse through the past couple of months and yesterday I ended it.   I had enough.  I should have stood up for myself a long time ago but I was weak.  I felt self-worth in helping them that I allowed myself to be constantly put in a negative situation.  The amount of stress I have been under has not been worth it.  My stress is not totally alleviated, as I am in the process of recovering from my people pleasing addiction, and I hate that things ended badly with this family, but at the same time knowing that I will no longer be subjected to this ongoing issue feels freeing. 

I have to remind myself that I cannot please them all.  I can try to go with the flow, but when the tide comes rushing in, if I am not a firmly rooted tree, the tide will take me away.  I don’t want to be a weak sapling that doesn’t stand a chance and snaps under the current.  There is a difference between being rude and unkind and being a strong person and I need to accept that.  I cannot please everyone and I should not have to continuously bend in a limbo in order to try.  When that happens people will break me, just as over the past could of months I have been continuously beat down by this family.  I cannot please them all, and the ones that are worth it, I don’t have to try to please!  I have a couple good friends, a husband, and kids that love me no matter what.  I am fortunate to have friends that can deal with me after surgeries, after babies, after meltdowns.  I have a husband and kids that love me regardless of circumstances, whether I am pretty or ugly, fat or skinny, relaxed or stressed, happy or sad.  Those are the people that are most important. 

I also have to remind myself that I have enough going on.  I do not have time for issues such as these on a weekly basis.  I have four kids, lots of carpooling, a daycare to run, a house to care for, and a family to nurture.  I do not have time to deal with other people’s negativity and straight up drama.  I was kind and compassionate when they were having marital issues, but I did not have to be dragged into it daily.  I did not have to be a punching bag for both the mom and the dad.  I loved those kids and they were close with my own, but I did not have the time nor the emotional capacity to allow them to treat me horribly under the guise of helping them.  There’s a line between being compassionate and being taken advantage of…and that line was vaulted over, with style.

In order for me to run a successful business I need to keep in mind that I do not have to please everyone.  When I cannot enforce my policies, my prices, and my rights, I am allowing this chaos.  There are plenty of families that understand that I am charging under what is market price, that I am way more flexible on my hours, and that my policies are quite a bit more lenient than most other daycares.  I appreciate those clients on such a deep level and I need to remind myself that I reserve the right to filter through the ones that cannot understand that and who cannot respect me as a human being, let alone as a business.  I am failing myself, my family, my business and worst of all my kids by trying so hard to please everyone.  I am failing.  And the worst part is, I am choosing to fail.

But I am choosing to live life differently.  I am choosing to no longer accept other people’s rude and demeaning behavior.  I am choosing to teach my kids to be kind and respectful people, yet people who do not allow everyone to take advantage of them.  I am choosing to care more about my relationship with God than to please others.  Even though their approval may be more tangible, may feel more important, I desperately need to validate myself in a more appropriate way.  I am not perfect and I will continue to struggle with this.  I will continue to struggle with wanting to switch churches based on rumors about me.  I will continue to try to find dignity even when people judge me.  I will continue to smile and be genuine even when I have been rejected before.  I will take the fruit of the spirit and make it my mission to overflow with love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.  I will choose these things and do it for God and myself and not do it to make others like me. 

I’ll be at the beach.

When I was a little girl I would play babies, play doll house, play house.  I would be the mommy and would take care of everyone, I would be supermom.  The older I got the more I wanted to be a mommy.  I told everyone that I wanted to have six kids, and have them close together.  I longed for a big family, for children that were friends, and to be an amazing mom. 

When at eighteen I found out I was pregnant, I didn’t panic, the thought of abortion or adoption never crossed my mind.  I was ready for this; I had been practicing for years.  All my babysitting experience was training for just a day as this.  As the thought of mommyhood loomed over me I contemplated spelling of names (I had names picked out by the age of ten) and I started looking at baby items.  I prepared instantly.  I planned, I waited, I was excited. 

I then continued to have four kids in the matter of four years and three months.  I had my wish.  I had a big family, close together.  I was a stay at home mom, just living the dream, right?  People would ask me how I did it, how I managed with four little kids.  I would smile and say, “one day at a time” or “it’s not that bad”.  There is truth in this, but at times, I am overwhelmed and want to run away.  Dare I say this?  Of course not! Because then I get the “this is because of the choices you made” or the best “we told you not to keep having babies”.

I do love my family.  I am so grateful for each and every one of my four blessings.  I would not trade one of them for just one more day of sanity.  I love my husband and I am beyond grateful for how hard he has worked for our family.  We started young, yes.  We have had a lot of trials, yes.  And yes, lady at the grocery store, my hands ARE full.  But I truly don’t want it any other way.

When 3 o’clock in the afternoon comes and I realize that I haven’t eaten all day, it is not because I made that choice.  It is not because I am starving myself or because I want to lose weight.  It is because of the frenzy feeding, cleaning, supervising, more cleaning, driving 34+ miles a day, and the mass chaos that has happened all day.  When I go to sleep by 8 o’clock at night it isn’t because I am lazy, it is because I run a daycare, typically try to go to the gym at 5 am to keep my sanity, and because of the same reasons I didn’t eat all day.  My life is chaotic and stressful.  With a fake smile on my face I say “I wouldn’t have it any other way”.  And yes, deep to my core this is true. 

But do you want to know what else is true?  I also want to escape.  I want to run away.  I daily contemplate if it is possible to sneak away to Newport Beach.  Do I have enough gas money to get there?  Should I bring the kids?  Raul?  Should I go alone?  I could sleep in the car, it would be scary, but it would be worth it.  Could they all survive without me? 

People may see me as supermom, my house is clean 24/7, my kids are fed and clothed before 7 am, hot amazing dinners are on the table when my husband comes home, and my kids are [generally] well-behaved.  I am living the life.  I may put on the supermom act but I have that need to flee.  I want to go to where we spread my mom’s ashes, her safe place, her fortress of solitude.  I want to go to Newport.  I would love to take the kids and Raul.  I would love to be supermom and have a nice family vacation, but as of now, it isn’t reality.  It can’t happen.  It isn’t in the cards. 

Right now my heart is in Newport.  My thoughts are in Newport.  My longing is in Newport.  It makes me feel like a worthless, selfish, mom.  I have no right to even think of doing anything by myself.  I made my choice to have a ton of kids.  I made my choice to be a mom by nineteen.  Supermom can’t demand time for herself or time away with her husband.  Can she?  Supermom selflessly gives of herself and never expects time alone.  Supermom does this with a smile and is happy to do so.  I am selfish trash.  My kids deserve better than me.  These thoughts echo through my very soul.  You have no right.  You should be happy.  You should be grateful.  You are nothing.  This is your job.  This was your choice. Some of these thoughts are words that others have actually uttered me. 

So am I a horrible selfish mom because I need a break?  Because I need alone time?  Because I would love some alone time with my husband?  I don’t think I am.  I think I am normal.  It doesn’t mean I love my kids any less.  It doesn’t mean that I don’t want them.  It just means that I am human, I have given selflessly for over 7 years straight, and I am tired and worn out.  Judge me if you want, but I desperately need an escape, a break, some adult time.