Mom So Hard

It's a thing those gangsta moms say- we 'mom so hard' b/c you know...we do.

But we also 'wife so hard'...and 'cleaning lady so hard' and 'chef so hard'....I, personally, juggle about 8,023,759 things around on my plate. You guys, I do a lot of shit. (And sometimes, it actually involves literally shoveling shit.)

Here's the thing- I love to be busy. I love helping people- and hate asking for help myself. I rarely say "I'm sorry, I can't do that"...I'll just toss it into the mix of my schedule and hope for the best.

Cut to midnight one evening...I'm sobbing in my bed because I'm so overwhelmed and exhausted that I can't breathe. My husband is looking at me like I have lost my damn mind and my dog has belly-crawled his way into the hallway and covered his ears.

"I'm just f*cking everything up. I can't seem to do anything right!"

My husband stares at me blankly. We both know my statement isn't true...but in the moment, I felt like I sucked as a mom, wife, friend, daughter, etc.

"Well stop doing so much!" he says. (An utterly ridiculous statement that will never happen- not for lack of him trying.)

When I get overwhelmed I can't focus on anything positive...which is not at all who I typically am. I am the person who 95% of the time sees the glass half full...and if it's half empty- it's only because whatever was in it was so delicious that I had to drink it down in one gulp. (I know...it even annoys me sometimes.)

But on this particular evening, in my sobbing state of complete irrationality- the only thing I could focus on was that I wasn't even doing a good job at being positive. I couldn't even find my glass to see if it was half empty or full.

I was no busier than I was the previous week. Nothing monumental had changed in my life...was it hormones? The moon? Football season? I wasn't even sure exactly what I needed to pull me out of the quicksand of negativity I was stuck in...but I knew I needed my husband to lasso me out.

My mind swirled after my tears had long dried on my pillow and I wondered...why do I need someone else to pull me out of this? No one got me here but myself...and the reality of the metaphorical place I was in was no-more real than a monster in a fairy tale.

I searched for the positive...and there it was in the clearing like a rainbow after the storm.

My husband.
Our family.
Our home.

Yes, life is busy...but life is wonderful.

I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

The following morning, I climbed out of bed ready to take on the world. I was ready to mom/wife/photog/legal-assistant/chef/taxi/cleaning-lady SO freaking hard...and there wasn't a grain of quicksand in sight.

What Dreams Are Made Of...

A few months ago, I had one of the most realistic nightmares of my life. It was so real that I thought parts of the dream had actually happened the following morning.

In the dream I had just woken up. My room was dark and in the darkness, I felt someone looking at me. I looked over and saw a young man sitting next to my bed with a hooded sweatshirt on. I couldn't see his face or recognize any of his characteristics as someone I knew.

Terrified, I grabbed for my husband and yelled "Who is that!? Who is that!?"

"Who is who? What are you talking about, babe?!" he replied.

Confused, I told him I must've been dreaming.

The following day, I asked him if he remembered me waking him up.

"No, I don't think you woke me up," he said.

I didn't think much of it. While I typically remember my dreams and whether or not I wake up in the middle of the night and eat a half gallon of ice cream (hypothetically), the hubs? I could have a 15 minute conversation with him mid-sleep and he won't remember a word of it.

A few weeks later, I had a similar dream- but this time a middle aged man stood next to my bed as I opened my eyes.

I gasped for air and reached for Kirk.

Again, the next day I asked if I woke him up and he said I didn't.

Two nights ago, I dreamed I opened my eyes and the light in my bedroom was on. I turned to Kirk and saw an older man sitting on the bed. This man bared no resemblance to anyone in my daily life.

"Who are you?! What do you want!?" I yelled in my dream.

He starred at me. He didn't look angry or threatening. But nonetheless, a stranger was in my room.

I woke up talking in my sleep...with my husband asking me what I was saying. Then I jumped.

I woke up...for real. My heart was racing as I sat up in my bed and looked around the room. The lights were off and my husband was snoring next to me.

Had I actually dreamed I'd woken up in each of these dreams? What is causing this recurring nightmare? Is it because I had caffeine before bed?! Does it have to do with my dad? Is it a spirit? (Does that make me sound like a hippy!?)

So seriously...what are dreams made of?