I'm Marissa, obviously. I'm a mother to three - two girls, one boy. (Gracelyn is 4, she'll be 5 in April. Reilly is 3, he'll be 4 in June. Paisley is 16 months old.) I'm a wife to a corrections officer, Raymond.
I'm definitely not the Susie Homemaker type. And, I'm almost positive that a Stepford wife would survive 57 seconds in our house before running out screaming.
BUT, I wasn't always like this....
I spent the first three years of my marriage and life as a mother trying to be perfect. All it did was create numerous insecurities within myself when I realized how not perfect I am. I never lied about my life - I was truly TRYING to be perfect. I'd spend hours and hours cleaning every day. Waking up well before my kids woke up, to clean; staying up way past when they went to bed to clean more. I would change my kids' outfits 3-5 times a day, trying to make sure they were always clean and cute.
To MySpace and Facebook, I was perfect. Pictures would prove how spotless my house always was, how clean and adorable my children always were.
But, I was miserable.
Not with my life, just with myself.
I have an incredibly loving and supportive husband and I love the life we've created together.
But, the pressure to always be perfect had me becoming such a neurotic bitch.
I had friends that were my age who were also wives and mothers - some of them seemed to be perfect without trying. Why couldn't I be like them? They just cleaned their house for two hours; I only cleaned for 45 minutes. They're saving money; we're living paycheck to paycheck. They're getting a new car; now we need a new car. Their baby walked before age 1; mine didn't walk until 13 months - am I a bad mom now?
It was all a competition in my head. And I was losing. I felt like the worst wife, the worst mother, the worst WOMAN. If I wasn't the absolute best, then in my head, that meant I was the worst. And what was the point in trying at all if I couldn't be number one?
It took me three years to realize that I didn't have to be perfect - that I was stupid, immature, and petty to be competing at all. And, to find out that the moms I was so jealous of weren't perfect either. They were competing just like I was. They were jealous of me for all the things I envied in them.
I took my newly found knowledge and changed.
Deep down inside, I dug out the real Marissa. The real Momma. The real wife.
I started over - I gave myself a freaking break. I let the dishes wait. I stopped doing laundry every freakin' day. I let my kids be kids and get dirty without rushing to clean their face for the 17th picture of the hour.
I started to enjoy the day, not try to conquer it.
I'm happier now. My house is sometimes messy. There's often dishes in my sink. I don't think I'll ever have less than one basket of laundry. My kids are still crazy adorable, even with dirt on their faces from playing outside and stains on their shirt from going a little crazy with the ketchup at lunchtime.
I still get stressed out over the house. I still doubt my parenting. I still fear that one day my husband will realize how amazing he is and how not-so-amazing I am and will divorce me.
Every day, I fight myself in my head, force out the negative thoughts that bounce around daily, and tell myself that I am good enough.
These are things I'm still working on.
Which leads me to....
This is me:
Along with striving to be a perfect mother and wife, I ended up hiding who I really was inside. I tried to be who I thought everyone would like.
I tried to be the super nice girl. But, I soon became a doormat to assholes in my life.
So, I tried out being the mean girl. I soon realized that didn't feel right either.
I tried out the prim and proper way, but quickly found that those were two words that would never describe me.
I had to "find myself". Try hard to hone in on who I really was, what I really believed in.
I discovered that I'm not a cookie-cutter version of anything or anyone. I'm just ME.
I'm not a perfect mom.
But, I'm a damn good one.
My kids think I'm the bomb diggity. Most days.
They're smart and learn new things every day. One day they learned the days of the week in sign language and the next day they learned a string of profanities after Mommy stubbed her toe.
I do believe in spanking. A swat on the hiney keeps my son from acting a total fool and teaches him right from wrong. And, whatdoyaknow, he doesn't hate me and he's a normal kid that laughs and loves.
I love doing crafts with my kids and the proud look on their faces when they've made something on their own is priceless.
Craft time is sometimes a total disaster, though. Like the time I went to wash paint off of my oldest daughter's hands and my youngest daughter grabbed a LARGE container of glitter and dumped it all out - on herself, two dogs, the coffee table, and the living room floor. In under two minutes. I cried for a good five minutes before even attempting to clean it up.
I'm not a perfect wife.
I used to correct him way too much on SO many different things. Now I just let him do things his way - it still gets done, maybe not how I would have done it, but at least I didn't have to do it.
I took him for granted. I still do, sometimes. But, I make it a point to tell him as much as possible how thankful I am for him. How lucky I feel to be his.
I selfishly make him stay up late some nights. But, we've made more memories at 1 in the morning that we'll cherish forever.
I'm an emotional mess some days and even though I know I'm being a hormonal bitch, it's hard to pull myself out of those moods. I always make sure to "make it up" to him once the mood has passed.
He does a lot more around the house than normal husbands probably do. He also probably gets laid more.
Bargaining with sex is the best tool ever.
I'm not a perfect homemaker.
My floors are sticky a lot. I hate cleaning. (But, I do clean, my house is never "disgusting".) I've learned that I don't mind cleaning as much if I have country music blaring.
I have to re-wash at least one load of clothes per week due to forgetting that I put it in the washing machine and it staying there for more than a day. I also restart the dryer a good three times before forcing myself to just fold/hang up the damn clothes.
Clorox wipes, Mr. Clean's Magic Eraser, and a good-smelling candle are my must-haves.
Why I Started Blogging:
I wanted to showcase the real me. I wanted to have somewhere that I could come and express my opinions, ramble, rant, rave, connect with awesome people and come out of it feeling better, not worse.
This blog is ME. It's my voice. If you talked to me in real life, this is what you would get. There's no front. I type the way I talk. I didn't start this blog to pretend to be something I'm not. I did enough of that in the years past.
When someone visits my blog and reads my posts, I want them to know they're getting a piece of me. The real me. Not the me that I think everyone will like. There's nothing fake happening on this blog. There's no pretty words that aren't backed up by real actions, real feelings.
It's. Just. Me.
The beauty of blogging is that I don't have to care what anyone else is thinking about what I'm writing. Why? Because it's MINE. It's all mine - it's my little clubhouse on the web.
Don't like it? Don't come here.
You don't have to be my friend, follow this blog, see any posts if you don't want to.
No haters allowed!
This is me. Who are you?