Full disclosure

I have built this space for me online - a place where I can come and share my thoughts about any old thing that I experience or that pops into my head (scary, I know). I haven't told many people about this space because it is freeing to release what's inside of you to the unknown world. It's nice having a space for just me.

But then I told my husband about it. And although I held my breath until he read my posts, he didn't get mad for the way that I represented him here and we're still happily married.

Today, I told one of my sisters about my blog. Her response: "I don't know my sisters at all!"

Of course, this comes on the heels of discovering the Youtube channel my other sister currently posts videos to, some of which are full of anger towards the current status of things in our family.

After her initial shock, she perused some posts and decided it wasn't so bad after all.

I hope. She could have been lying...

Anyway, what's done is done. She knows now. Which means, probably, that more people will know in short order.

My little alone space going to get a bit more crowded. And that's okay with me, I think (ignore my hyperventilating...I'm sure it's completely normal and that it will pass).

So, to those who are joining my not-so-regular blog, welcome! Make yourself at home, help yourself to whatever you find here, and please, please don't hate me too much.

Unattractive

Parenthood is hard.

I know a collective "Duh!" just went up from people who have been parents for decades (KUDOS to you, by the way), but bear with me.

When I was pregnant, I read all the books, watched all the shows/movies, took all the classes, asked all the questions, and harangued my mother and mother-in-law for their opinions on everything from napping and showering with an infant to "to use a soother, or not to use a soother?". And do you know how much help it was??

A big fat NO HELP.

Oh wait, it did one thing - it let me think, for 9 blissful months, that I was prepared, that I was ready, that I could handle it.

Which is funny, because literally 1 second after the first contraction, I realized I was none of those things, and that I would probably never be any of those things ever again. Period. (Contractions lend a sort of intensity to thinking - never question a woman who is contracting...it would not bode well for your intent to remain living).

Parenthood is so hard, that I have become one of the most unattractive people on the face of the earth.

And no, I'm not talking about the obvious unattractiveness - the unwashed-hair-no-make-up-bags-under-the-eyes-lumpy-bits-galore-messed-up-fashion-sense unattractiveness.

I'm talking about the personality unattractiveness (the other kind is SO much easier to clean up!).

I have become a martyr. Plain and simple.

I work myself to the bone, trying to be superwomanhousewife...and in the end, I become a snivelling, crying, upset, over-worked, disgustingly self-righteous, nagging martyr.

This morning my husband and I had a pretty bad fight about pretty much nothing at all, and the reason for it? The martyrdom shooting out of every one of my orphices.

I don't know how to stop being a martyr (for example, my retaliation so far today for the fight is to clean up our bedroom, and wash, fold, and put away every stitch of laundry in our house...that will SHOW HIM).

I hate martyrs. I hate them with a passion. And I desperately hate myself right now.

I wish that I could stop for sixteen seconds and actually enjoy the fact that today is finally, FINALLY Friday...that my husband loves me enough not to bite my head off when it's all I seem to do to him...and that for 3 days we get to blissfully hang out together as a little family with few if any interruptions (everyone is busy this weekend, so little to no drop-ins from random people trying to see the baby).

That will be my goal for the rest of the day - focusing on the good that is coming my way...

...while washing, folding, and putting away every stitch of laundry.