Stuff I Don’t Love | A Day in Mollywood

it was only a moment

July 7, 2011 By Molly

It was only a moment. One tiny moment where I lost the ability to control my temper. But in that one moment I did something that I feel is unforgivable as a parent . . .

I scared my son.

I have been a mother for nearly three years. It has had its ups and downs and we have definitely had our challenges. But I’ve always managed to squash my frustrations and approach tough toddler situations with a level-headed and caring approach.

Believe me, I surprised even myself with how good I have handled some situations. I have prided myself on just how good I had become at this mom thing. I could count on one hand the number of times I have screamed at my children. I know all the tricks.

Get down on his level. Look him in the eyes. Use words he can understand. Be stern but never scream.

I was a good mom.

. . . was . . .

It was only a moment but it’s a moment I can’t ever take back. I don’t know how it got out of control so quickly. And I realize I am probably dramatizing it in my head a bit. But to me, it was the most awful moment I’ve had as a mom yet.

It had been a rough day for all of us. The boys were exhausted from the festivities of a long holiday weekend. Landon wouldn’t walk to the car and we were already running late. So I picked him up to carry him but I tripped over something and fell forward on the concrete. I landed on him. He started crying immediately and I quickly tried to figure out what was hurt. He calmed down quickly so off we went to daycare drop-off.

That night I stopped to get the boys happy meals to make up for such a rushed morning. They love the apple dippers, I thought. Landon will love the batman toy that came with it.

My boys and I sat around the table eating apple slices and chicken nuggets. I laughed that one of the meals came with a girl toy. A barbie head with hair you could style. I walked around the table and pretended to have the barbie kiss the boys. They both erupted in wild fits of laughter as I got closer and closer and closer with the doll, teasing them with kisses. Things were looking up.

I took both boys upstairs for their bath. The boys always bathe together. It is usually fun. I ran the bathwater and placed Brigham in right away. I called for Landon in the playroom. He came to the bathroom door and screamed, “I’m not taking a bath!” His face red with anger. My usual problem-solver is to use reverse psychology.

“That’s fine, Landon. You can be stinky if you want.”

Ordinarily he would come running back and do what I asked of him. But tonight it didn’t work. Instead he swiftly threw a toy at me while I bathed Brigham.

Now I was mad. Hadn’t I done a good job tonight? Hadn’t I made him smile and laugh? And this is the thanks I get?

I quickly pulled him into the bathroom, shut the door and locked it. I told him that he didn’t have to take a bath but he could not play in the playroom. He started freaking out. FUH-REAKING. And suddenly he got all smart and learned how to unlock the door. Usually I would have followed him but Brigham was in the bathtub so I couldn’t leave him unattended.

I told Landon he needed to come back into the bathroom with me. But he didn’t listen. Instead he started kicking the door to the playroom with both feet. You guys know we just moved to a new house, right? Scuff marks on my pretty new doors? I don’t think so. You know, because doors are more important than a happy child.

I briefly pulled Brigham out of the tub and left him standing there while I ran to get Landon. I brought Landon back into the bathroom and shoved the step stool up against the door so he couldn’t get out.

And this is where I should have stopped. This is where the logical part of my brain should have admitted defeat, stopped bath time altogether and walked away until Landon calmed down and Brigham stopped crying.

But that’s not what happened.

Instead I pulled Landon’s clothes off and put him into the tub as he kicked me repeatedly in the stomach. He stood there screaming at the top of his lungs. His face became bright red as he held his breath in between screams. He slid in the tub as I tried to soap him up. Brigham just stood there crying for me to take him out. He had no idea what was going on. After all, he just wanted to play in the water with his boats.

I turned around to gain composure while Landon continued his fit of rage. That composure I was looking for? It didn’t come.

I turned back around and began screaming at Landon at the top of my lungs. I told him to please just shut up. I begged him. When I screamed Brigham started screaming even louder and harder even though I wasn’t addressing him. I’m pretty sure he was scared shitless.

I swiftly took Landon and Brigham out of the bathtub. I put Landon in his bedroom with a towel and slammed the door. I had to be in a different room for a minute. And I needed to tend to Brigham who was still crying.

I grabbed Brigham and wrapped him in a towel. And then I sank onto the floor of his nursery and began to sob uncontrollably. What had I done? What had I done?

A moment. One moment. That’s all it took for me to possibly screw up my sons’ lives forever.

Within seconds I realized what I had done. I got up onto my feet and frantically ran into Landon’s room. He was sitting naked on the floor with soap still in his hair. I grabbed the towel I had given him off the floor, wrapped it around him and held him until he stopped crying.

Within five minutes things had calmed down and Landon was acting like himself again.

But then there was me. I felt like running. Running far far away so that my sons never have to be subjected to a mom who cannot control herself.

I gave myself a zero tolerance policy long ago when it comes to abuse. It will not happen in our household. I don’t hit. I don’t spank. I don’t slap. I have never touched my children with anything but loving hands. I should have known that I would screw things up with my damned mouth instead.

When it was bedtime I crawled into bed with him so that I could explain what happened and apologize. After all, if I make him apologize when he does something wrong then why shouldn’t I be held to the same standards?

“Landon, mommy is so so sorry for what happened tonight.”

He sat silent as I explained that I lost my temper and was sorry for yelling so loud. I told him that sometimes adults have tantrums too but I hoped he could forgive me for my mistakes. He stared straight into my eyes but this time they weren’t scared eyes. They were worried eyes. My child. The one I disrespected so terribly just an hour before . . . was worried about me. The tears started to flow from my eyes.

And then he did something I will never forget. He reached up and kissed my cheek where the tear fell.

“It’s okay, mommy.” he said. “I forgive you.”

He told me he loved me, put his arms around me and patted my back until I stopped crying. And then I did the same for him as he drifted off to sleep.

I always rock Brigham to sleep and sing to him. But as I rocked him on this night he was restless. He jerked back and forth in an effort to be released and put in his crib. I can only guess that he no longer found refuge in his mother’s arms.

It was only a moment. But I started punishing myself for it as soon as it happened.

I stayed awake for way too long that night. I couldn’t eat. I was too upset. I cried and sobbed after my husband went to bed. All I could picture was him sitting in his room. Afraid and confused. Because of me. Because I lost my temper.

An hour after Landon went to bed the cramping started and then I began to bleed heavily. I already had my period a couple weeks ago. I assume that the mental stress led to physical stress as well. I am so deeply disappointed in my behavior and the utterly despicable example I just set for my sons. I don’t know if I can recover from this mistake. I don’t even think God will forgive me for this.

I climbed back into bed with Landon and watched him sleep for a long time. It was the only thing that made me feel better. I watched his eyes move back and forth from behind his eyelids. I wondered what he was dreaming about.

I hoped it wasn’t about me.

He deserves better dreams than that.

Filed Under: Adventures in Parenting, Depression, Landon, Pour Your Heart Out, Stuff I Don't Love 22 Comments

two signs I’m getting old

May 25, 2011 By Molly

You know how pregnant women get upset at the onset of stretchmarks? I was one of those lucky ladies who did not have to go through that with either of my pregnancies. No, my belly stayed perfectly smooth with both boys, no cocoa butter necessary.

And you bet your butt I was pretty smug about it. Not to people’s faces or anything. But I would sometimes stare in the mirror and thank God for sparing my belly those awful scars. I mean, phewwwww *wipes sweat beads off brow* what could be worse?

I’ll tell you what could be worse.

Karma.

As I was putting lotion on my legs the other day I noticed small purple lines. It took me a few seconds for my brain to get the message after spotting them.

VARICOSE VEINS!!!

Yes, I have my very first varicose veins. They look awful. I know it’s not the end of the world. But it’s the end of my legs being my favorite part of my body.

It was bad enough that I had to start getting gray hair at the ripe old age of 28. But I fear it’s only gonna get worse from here.

Like my grandpa always used to say . . . getting old is for the birds.

The other sign I’m getting old comes in the form of a question. What the hell is going on with the music they are playing on the radio!? It is NOT appropriate. Okay, so I will at least give Kanye West an A+ for the creativity category. And I love Katy Perry as much as my husband anyone would. But I don’t EVER want to hear about alien sex and probing while on my way to work at 8:00 a.m.

I think I choked on my coffee the first time I really paid attention to what that song was about. I am so glad my boys aren’t teenagers . . . yet.

and there you have it, folks. I am complaining about varicose veins and how today’s music is completely offensive and inappropriate for our youth. I am officially getting old.

Filed Under: Mommy Moments, Silly Me, Stuff I Don't Love 29 Comments

my lovely lady lumps

May 12, 2011 By Molly

Let’s talk boobs, shall we?

Specifically my right boob. You know, the one that grew two MRSA-filled abscesses right after I gave birth to Brigham.

I was reminded of this only because yesterday I had to make a visit to my lady parts doctor. I think that’s their official title, no? And each time I get my annual exam they also do a breast check. Not the fun kind. The important kind.

Whilst doing the check she (and I) was reminded of that awful problem I had last year because the scars are very obvious. Back in June 2010 I asked how this could have happened as it seemed I had the worst luck EVER with trying to breastfeed my sons. I was told by the surgeon that I have very cystic breast tissue. The abscesses most likely started as cysts that were already formed in my breast. When I began to breastfeed Brigham, I had the usual sore/cracked nipples and they said the staph infection got in through the open spots. The infection found the cysts, made a home and became a major pain in the ~~ass~~ breast.

I am not lying when I tell you that recovering from having those abscesses drained was worse than recovering from giving birth to a 7 lb, 3 oz baby. Way worse.

But I digress. My doctor finished the breast exam and recommended I look into getting an early mammogram. I told her my insurance wouldn’t cover it unless I was 35-years-old AND have a family history of breast cancer. I thought I still had 2.5 years to wait. But then she told me that if she recommends one, insurance won’t make me pay.

So I said – well are you recommending I get one?

Her answer? What do you think?

My answer? But I’m skeeeeered.

I think every woman cringes when they hear the word mammogram. And I’m not trying to make light of a very serious topic. My maternal grandmother died from breast cancer at a very young age. And my mom has had a couple cancer scares since then. I know it’s nothing to mess around about. I know I have higher risk factors. But I’m only 32. It can’t happen to me, right?

WRONG. I know I’m wrong. I’m also not stupid. Early detection is leading the way to higher breast cancer survival rates!

I will need to call to get myself an appointment to have my breasts smushed between pieces of cold hard plastic. But if it can potentially save my life then bring on the smushing!!!

does she look scared to you?

photo via

p.s. don’t worry, mom. It’s just to be on the safe side =)

Filed Under: Breast Cancer, Breastfeeding, Brigham, Post-Partum, Stuff I Don't Love 13 Comments

Today was supposed to be moving day

April 21, 2011 By Molly

I’m gonna make this quick. I can’t write or talk about it without crying and getting stomach cramps.

We were supposed to be closing and moving TODAY. We thought our dream was finally coming true. But 48 hours ago the buyer’s lender decided that they would no longer give him the loan to buy our house unless he had a cosigner. We were told as long as he found a cosigner everything would be fine and we would be closing before the 29th.

Yesterday we waited to find out when the new closing day would be. At 4:45 p.m. I got the call I never expected to get. The buyer’s lender STILL denied him the loan to buy our house. We would not be closing at all.

I cried. I screamed. I got sick and vomited all of everything I had eaten that day and spent the day on the toilet. I lost three pounds. Another three pounds I could not afford to lose.

Our entire lives have been packed away in boxes. Waiting to go to a beautiful house that may never be ours.

Our mail was already forwarded. Address changed on numerous accounts.

Invitations for Brigham’s first birthday party have already been sent – with our NEW address of a house that now will set empty on his birthday.

Our dreams were shattered in an instant.

I’m not doing well. Not at all.

Today was supposed to be one of the happiest days of our family’s life. But instead, we are so sad.

Today my heart is broken.

Filed Under: Depression, Our New Home, Stuff I Don't Love 23 Comments

worth it?

April 13, 2011 By Molly

Yes. There is a question mark behind those words. I wish there weren’t. But until next Thursday the question mark will remain.

We are supposed to close on our current house and our new house next Thursday. But we’ve hit some roadbumps on the way to our part of paradise.

I can tell you that we’re just heartsick at the thought of not moving to our dream house like we planned. But I know God is watching and waiting. He already knows what will happen in this situation. So I’m trusting in Him. Like I have throughout this whole process.

We would appreciate any thoughts and prayers you can send our way. I realize that the universe has much bigger problems than us not moving to a new house. But we have waited for this day for two years. To see our dream within our grasp only to lose it would be devastating.

So I apologize for the lack of blogging this week and probably next week as well. I’m in no shape to blog while holding this amount of stress inside.

I am so hopeful that the wait, the tears, the hope and the fears will have been worth it.

Please, oh please, be worth it.

image via pinterest

Filed Under: Our New Home, Stuff I Don't Love 16 Comments

I don’t know how to change

March 7, 2011 By Molly

I’ve noticed a trend in the blogosphere. It seems Mondays are reserved for blogging about weight loss. I can support my awesome friends who are on their own journeys to healthy lives but I can’t join in because, well, I don’t need to lose weight. I don’t say that to brag. But I do think this needs to be said . . .

Skinny does not equal healthy. At least, not in my case it doesn’t.

As I write this, I am sick again. Last Tuesday my throat started feeling scratchy. By Wednesday it was worse. But on Thursday I woke up feeling better than I had in months. I woke up early, which never happens anymore. I always hit the snooze button no less than four times and usually end up late to work, looking flustered and sometimes wearing clothing that doesn’t match. Unless navy tights match with a black dress. No? I didn’t think so.

For some reason, all of Thursday was spent feeling energized and being productive. Until I got home and the sickness that was hiding around the corner like Ashton Kutcher with an MTV film crew, came around and punked me right in the immune system. I’ve been sneezing and coughing and feeling miserable ever since. I had been well for three weeks. Yes, just three weeks ago I was sick. I had a mere 21 days of feeling okay. Just okay.

This is not acceptable anymore. Not at all. I have been sick just about every two to three weeks with something since Brigham was born, which was TEN months ago. It is completely depressing that I expect to be sick again even after the plague of the moment blows over. I could write it into my Outlook calendar. The sicknesses are now more dependable than my monthly lady troubles.

I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised.

I do not exercise.
I do not eat a healthy and balanced diet.
I do not get enough rest.
I am stressed.
I am overworked.
I take xanax instead of being all zen and stuff.

I wish I could say this is the first time I have felt like this. But I have been down this road before. When Landon was 10-months-old my physical and mental health went downhill quickly. By his first birthday I was planning on leaving my job because I could not handle the stress anymore. I was suffering from debilitating panic attacks, excruciatingly painful migraines and a severe case of vertigo, which led to numerous specialist appointments and an MRI to find out if I had a brain tumor.

Actually, these terrible symptoms were mostly due to an over-dosage of an anti-seizure medication prescribed to treat my bipolar disorder. Thankfully they were all eradicated when I stopped the medication. But I also lost my job in the process. I had to quit because the side-effects of the medication had ruined any chance of future success in that company.

The stress did not help. It is a chain reaction.

Too much stress has always led to my inability to use healthy coping skills to jump the hurdles of life. And what comes next is not pretty. Can I just say this now? I cannot allow myself to get to that bad place again. I will not allow myself to get to that bad place again.

The stress might look a little different now. My current job is a lot more forgiving than my last one but the pace is starting to pick up. I feel like I could easily fall apart again. Of course, I am not taking the drug that nearly fried my brain two summers ago. But I still don’t feel like I’m at a safe place.

There are a lot of triggers for my depression in the coming months. There are a lot of old memories creeping up on me. What changes can I make that will keep me from falling? I have always been interested in the following:

Acupuncture
Meditation
Yoga
Clean diet
Vegetarianism
Vitamins and/or Natural Supplements

But I do not know which one to try first. Do I jump into these new lifestyle changes and risk failure? Because if I am being honest, I would probably do each one for about 2-3 weeks. Then I would abruptly quit and go back to being me with the added guilt trip of quitting yet another “project” I started.

I have finally figured out that this is why I never start anything new. Because I know I will quit before any real difference could be seen. But if I am committed to leading a healthier and happier life why do I feel stuck? Stuck in the same old place, with the same old unhealthy diet of fast food? Spending each day just getting by. Yuck. I don’t want this for myself. I don’t want this for my family.

This is no way to live. My body is literally SCREAMING at me to do something about it. But how do I help myself?

I don’t know how to change.

Filed Under: Blogging, Damaged Goods, Depression, Mommy Moments, Sickies, Stuff I Don't Love, Work 18 Comments

I don’t wanna ride your roller coaster, baby

February 28, 2011 By Molly

You remember that feeling. The feeling of standing in line for a roller coaster with your friends. You inch closer to the front of the line, you know, where they break you up and decide whether you’ll be at the back, the middle or ::cue scary music:: DUH DUH DUH, the very front car?

Then out of the corner of your eye you spot the chicken exit. Every logical cell in your brain tells you that being shot to the ground at a speed which makes your stomach churn your lunch is probably not the best idea. But your friends aren’t flinching. You don’t want to be the only loser who decided not to ride. So you do it anyway. Against your better judgment. And then you chuck your ~~lunch~~ the cotton candy and corn dog you thought was a grand idea about a half hour before you decided to ride this monstrosity

Well, I’m on a roller coaster. The roller coaster of life. I know, I know. I should start a blog meme called “Lame Analogy Mondays.” I probably could have just come out and said I’m having some major ups and downs. But the above story was much more fun to write.

In all seriousness, I feel like the range of emotions in my life right now is right on par with waiting to ride a roller coaster. I’m neutral until I show up to work. I hear good news and I’m on a high. Then someone complains about something or someone and the bad mood starts. Downhill I go. Up and down. Up and down. It.never.stops.

All the while, I just want someone to stop the ride. There are never enough hours in the day. I consider myself lucky if I get to pee more than twice. My to-do list is, well, who am I kidding? There is no to-do list. Because there isn’t time to actually write one.

By the time I get home from work, I have two hours at best with my kids before I have to tuck them in and say goodnight. Then it’s my time. To blog, watch mindless television or read a book. WHATEVER. All I want to do is sleep. Everything else completely overwhelms me.

Looking at bank accounts and bills and calendars sends panic through my body. So I just don’t look at them. Until it is absolutely necessary that I look at them. I let junk mail pile up until it takes hours to sort through it. I let laundry pile up until it takes days to wash, unload, fold and hang. I let books and emails go unread. And phone calls? Forget about it. I am terrible at calling people back these days.

Some days it literally feels like my brain might explode. There is so much to do. Too much. So instead of knocking out a few things I take the chicken exit and I don’t do any of it. Because I am paralyzed. With what I’m not sure. Fear, anxiety, depression. Does it really matter? I have never been very productive.

But for the first time in my life I think I am finally tired of this roller coaster. Or maybe I’m just tired in general (did you know my 10-month-old STILL does not sleep through the night? Please send a night nurse!).

Even now, as I write this, I have about a million other things I need to be doing. But my blog stats look like a roller coaster too. Up one day, down the next. So I figured I better write something before I chuck my lunch again.

Get me off of this ride!

p.s. which way to the funnel cakes?

Filed Under: Blogging, Mommy Moments, Silly Me, Stuff I Don't Love, Work 11 Comments

Let’s get to the bottom of this.

January 4, 2011 By Molly

I remember thinking it to myself. I think every mama-to-be must think these same ridiculous thoughts before their first baby arrives.

I will not let myself go. I will not forget about me. I will not move myself to the bottom of the list.

Well, shucks. Pop out a couple babies and that’s currently where I sit. The bottom of the list. It’s not a pretty place to be. Staring up at all the people who get oodles of my attention. It’s understandable. However, I have no one else to be mad at but myself. I know exactly how I got here.

Flashback to two weeks postpartum with Brigham when I noticed two HUGE lumps in my right breast. I will tell you that I knew those lumps were bad news. Everyone around me, including my R.N. husband, told me to go to the doctor. I knew it was more than mastitis or a clogged duct. They were protruding like huge tumors. But what did I do? I waited two weeks and then ended up in the emergency room getting my breast sliced open and having abscesses drained. It was not fun, people.

Flashback to last August when I started coughing. The boys were both coughing and had runny noses too. Of course, I took them straight to the doctor. But me? Oh no, my health was somehow less important. I didn’t need a trip to the doctor. I was fine.

Only I wasn’t. I actually had double pneumonia. It also was not fun. It also was not NECESSARY. Had I gone to the doctor, oh a month earlier, I’m sure it would never have gotten that bad. It is clear that with the stress of a new baby (who is sick a lot of the time) and the stress of a new job, I started completely ignoring my health. Because my babies are more important than me, right? RIGHT? I can’t take care of myself before their needs have been met. Because wouldn’t that make me a sucky mom?

I’ll answer my own question. No. Actually what it did was make me a sick and exhausted mom. A lot of good that did all of us. And it nearly caused me to have a nervous breakdown in late September.

Here’s another way I know I haven’t been taking care of myself. It’s also the part of the story where you get to hate me a little bit.

I wear a size 2. And they’re always falling off.

I know. I KNOW. But before you yell profanity at your computer screen, can I just tell you that I am a size 2 because I haven’t been taking the time to eat. I’m not that size for a good reason.

Most mornings I’m in such a rush that I don’t eat breakfast. I might throw a granola bar in my purse to save for “later.” But then later becomes lunch time. And I’m too busy to stop what I’m doing. I can feel my stomach rumbling. But I do.not.stop. This started when Brigham was born. I always made sure he was fed before I was fed. I was hungry no matter what I ate due to nursing but I know I didn’t eat enough. I wasn’t trying to lose weight. But when you burn more calories than you take in, which is easy to do while breastfeeding, well, it just happened. I was busy with everyone and everything else.

My poor body. I haven’t treated it very well the past couple of years. But all that changes in 2011.

I plan on doing many things that I have been putting off. I’ve already started checking a few things off the list.

#1. Go to the podiatrist to find out why the eff my foot has hurt for 1.5 years (CHECK)

#2. Join the YMCA so the hubs and I can work out and take classes (CHECK)

#3. Start physical therapy (again) for chronic neck pain

#4. See a chiropractor for chronic neck pain

#5. Take a vacation for our 5th anniversary (this is directly related to lowering my stress level so whatever)

#6. Continue therapy & talk to my therapist about the food issues (maybe there is one?)

#7. My tooth hurts when I chew. I need to call a dentist or something (do I have to?)

#8. LOOK AT MY CUTE NEW YEARS BABY!!!

#9. Hey wait, I don’t know how that got in there. But yes, please do look at him.

#10. Stop ignoring yourself, Molly. You’re kind of important too, ya know.

There you have it. A nice little checklist. And yes, I know I added a baby in there. I can’t help it.

I’m tired of the view from down here at the bottom. I can’t say I’ll ever be #1 on the list. But I know I should not be at the bottom.

Because, duh.

Filed Under: Breastfeeding, Damaged Goods, Depression, Post-Partum, Sickies, Stuff I Don't Love 10 Comments

Not exactly the new pair of shoes I was hoping for . . .

December 22, 2010 By Molly

I’m a shoe lover. I think it all started with the summer job I got at Baker’s right after graduating high school. I bought so many cute pairs of shoes that summer. My closet was full. My wallet? Not so much.

I have always dreamed of owning a really expensive pair of heels.

Like, perhaps this amazing pair of Manolo Blahnik’s made famous in the Sex & The City movie

Or how ’bout these gorgeous red-bottomed Christian Louboutin heels ::swoons::

My dreams were dashed yesterday when I bought the most expensive shoe I’ve ever had . . .

I never thought I would spend $350 on a contraption that looks like a ski boot. And to buy this expensive shoe at a podiatrist’s office while standing in a waiting room with no one under the age of 70? Frick.

My left foot has been hurting for more than a year and like everything else that has to do with my health, I have ignored the pain. Now I have a severe case of tendinitis and will need to wear this lovely piece of designer footwear for a whole month. It keeps my foot completely stationary so the tendons can heal after too much wear and tear.

I stood there while the nurse explained how to put it on and “pump it up” with air. Then she told me that she knows it’s not pretty but that some of the patients “bedazzle” theirs so it looks fancier. I shit you not.

I bit my tongue and tried not to laugh in her face. Then I swallowed my pride and hobbled to my car.

I guess there’s always next Christmas.