Kelly's Hot Mess Celebrates 5-Years!

Five years ago, this week, I sat down with my computer and a strong Americano at a midtown Starbucks and wrote this:

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Here I am... 

 

 

So the other morning, I walked by the mirror and realized, I'm a 36-year old wife and mother of three little ones.  I live in a white house with black shutters and a red door.  I make oatmeal and wash dishes and read lots and lots of stories and change lots and lots of diapers.  I drive kiddos to school, church, ballet, music, basketball, and their friends' houses.  I admire art work, dance moves, kind words, and gooey brownie fingers.  I shun hitting, eye-rolling, cruel words, and video games.  And late at night, when I have disposable energy, I wonder, how did I get here?

Yesterday or 14 years ago, I was reading philosophy texts, drinking beer, chatting it up with girl friends, wondering if I would get married, hoping I would get a really good job offer and firmly believing that I would never move back to Omaha, Nebraska.

I used to make fun of the women that I babysat for...they wore sweater sets from Talbots, faded pleated pants, the same pearl earrings, and drove station wagons or mini vans.  Most needed a highlight at best and some needed significant work like a lip wax or a personal trainer.  Everyone of them were so thankful to see me pull up in the driveway and after a few brief reminders encouraged me to eat anything I wanted in the house...I think they just really wanted me to come back.  They all seemed so old.  I used to giggle with my girlfriends about who had cute husbands and who had fat ones.  Which ones seemed really in love and which ones got the short-end of the stick.  Either way, I couldn't imagine that one day, someone would call me, "Mrs. so and so" and tell me that the kids would be just fine while I pulled out of the driveway.

I think it's funny that I got my master's degree in Conflict Resolution.  When I was actively practicing, I used to mediate other people's differences...i.e. Landlord/Tenant cases, Neighbor barking dog issues, Divorcing couples, Employer/Employee tensions...etc.  Now, I just seem to mediate my own internal conflict...how do I evolve in this new season of my life and also retain that which I claim to be vital to my soul?

And because I've been writing in my head for the last fours year (ever since I became a full-time stay-at-home mom), I've decided to create this blog...primarily, as an outlet for me to reclaim my voice (outside of "use your inside voice") and also as an opportunity for me to connect with others who may relate.  The truth is that the dynamic between like-minded individuals is what I missed the most about writing in my journal.  And sometimes, the facebook fragments are just not enough.    So, here I am.

I'm not sure how often I'll write.  I'm not terribly concerned about being offensive or liked.  I just want to hear my voice again as I hit the key strokes.  I want to be reminded that I am here...all parts of me, not just those that care take for others.

I'm grateful for the hot mess that I find myself in most days because it reminds me that I am alive.  I may be covered in puke, exhausted from an all-night marathon with a baby, or wearing a size that I  reserved for a middle-aged woman...but I'm here.  I'm doing it.  And, honoring the journey...

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I had no idea, really no idea, what it meant to author a blog.  Since that decision, I've published 617 posts--most of which revolve around the crazy making of being a stay-at-home wife, mother, runner, writer, conflict resolutioner, f-bomb dropper, inappropriate content lover, coffee and wine drinker, podcast listener who is just trying to do the next right thing.

I've shared the deaths of my grandfather and taken much too soon cousin.  I've hinted at masturbation in the sauna of a local gym.  I've chronicled my 40-pound weight loss journey and transformation into a marathoner.   I've plastered nearly every insane act that all three of my children have subjected me to from the time my oldest was six years old and my baby was 9-months old...she just went off to kindergarten.

I've talked about my deepest desire to become an author and shared pieces of my poetry and prose.  I've centered quotes on inspiration, motivation, hope, power, triumphing over the unknown, fear, and belief in the impossible.  I've showered pictures of my family, friends all while talking about the craziness of managing it all and trying to stay awake while having sex--the struggle is real.

I've shared painful posts about drunk driving, making peace with your body, learning to surrender and remembering that you're never alone.

And through all of it...you have been there.

Listening.

Reading.

Commenting.

Encouraging.

Cheering.

Laughing.

Co-creating.

Believing that sharing your voice and heart with the world matters.

At a time when I've wondered whether I should continue publishing the blog, my 41-year old self says to you, if I thanked you daily, it would not be enough.

Thank you for believing in me, for inspiring me, for teaching and stretching me...for disagreeing with me and for supporting me...for encouraging me to speak about the elephant in the room...for loving my family and for watching us grow...for calling me out when I haven't posted in a while...for letting me know that even though we may never see each other, that you're still there...in the ether, reading and connecting from afar.

Here's to five years of Kelly's Hot Mess...what a beautiful journey it's been.

Mama to Mama Encouragement

There aren't very many people grocery shopping at 9am when you drop your kiddo off at preschool.

There's no line at the in-store Starbucks.

No one's rushed at the deli counter, so they actually smile at you when you take your time to assess which meats and cheeses are on sale.

It's quiet, so you can mindfully check items off your list and methodically make your way aisle by aisle to gather the specific things you want, instead of scooping up shit and throwing it into the cart just to get the hell out of there.

Instead of feeling exhausted, you feel accomplished.

You carefully place your items onto the conveyor belt grouped by how you want them packaged, not stressed by which child is going to whine the loudest for Starburst or worse yet, those God awful, suckers that look like pacifiers...they disgust me.

No, shopping sans kids is a beautiful thing.

So, when I passed a mom in the produce section with a young toddler and a brand new baby who was crying that horrible, gut wrenching, won't stop sob that indicates that they don't want to be in the car seat or are terribly hungry or both...I gotta admit, the first thought that popped into my head was...

Sucks to be you.

I'm so done with and over the baby days.  And even though my purse still resembles a glorified diaper bag, it does not have a single tube of ointment or bottle or wet wipe to speak of.  Praise Jesus.

Gathering my apples and bananas, I high tailed it into the meat section joyfully tuning out the cries of the infant.  Sipping my Americano, I continued to gather my items and think about what I wanted my day to look like feigning some semblance of control.

And then, I got to the check out line.

She had beat me there.  And God help her, she had her hands full in every way.  Her toddler was screaming for candy.  Her baby was still crying, except that now, she was trying to hold him with one hand while putting the food items on the conveyor belt trying not to drop anything.

I have been there so many times.  I know exactly how it feels.  It is a gut wrenching, sucky, sucky spot to be in and there's nothing you can do except endure it until you can get out to the car to nurse the baby and give the kid his bag of M&M's.

So, I just decided to speak up.

Sucks, doesn't it.

She flipped around with a look of horror.  "I'm sorry."

Oh God...don't be.  You're in the thick of it.  The trenches.  I have three of my own.

"Really? I've only taken them both to the store alone once.  I knew I shouldn't have tried it this morning."

You're doing an amazing job.  I nearly strangled my oldest when he threw a tantrum while I was trying to rock the baby and get the food out of the store.  And really, the only way it gets better is to keep taking them.  Keep practicing.  But really, you look amazing.

"Thank you.  I needed that."

I felt so happy unloading my groceries.  This, I thought.  This is what we need to do.  We've got to build each other up as mamas.  The whole deal sucks at any given time.  It's enough to drive you to fill in any addiction you want.  So, more than ever, we must encourage instead of judge.  It's only been a few years for me since I was in that spot.  It's no fun.  But it's doable and so worth it.

All that said, I was still so, so happy to get in the car and turn on NPR instead of Vacation Bible School songs.  Oh sweet no children bliss.

Kindness in a Phone Call

The phone rang.

I was busy drying the dinner dishes and lamenting about how my knees ached from my hard five mile run this morning. 

According to my training plan, I should have run nine miles today.  I've been derailed for nearly three weeks with shin splints and am gradually getting back into it...struggling to build back up the mileage and the momentum that I lost along the way....and fearing that three weeks may not be enough time to get ready.

"Hello?," I said.

"I hope I'm not interrupting your dinner or evening with your family.  I was thinking about you and had to call.  I'm experiencing shin splints from the crazy amount of pounding on pavement today on my long walk (she works for a national non-profit) and I'm in pain.  I have no idea how you've been doing it.  But I wanted to let you know that I'm behind you.  You're not just running for you.  You're running for all of us."

After thanking her, I got off the phone and sobbed.

A stupid, dumb, 13.1 mile race.  Why has this become so important to me?  Enough to have me icing my legs four times a day.  Taking ibuprofen with each meal.  Reading everything I can get my hands on about form, cadence, shoes, injury remedies and running, in general. 

It's important, I think, because in some tangible way, it represents me.  The re-birthing of me.  Since I started this process, I've lost 22 pounds, gained strength, endurance, a lot of heart ache, and confidence.

The running I do is for me.  It's so that I can be a better wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend...so that I can feel me again.  The miles, the pain, the endorphins, the exhilaration, the hurt, the hope...it's mine.  And I want so bad to finish this first big race.

So thank you, friend for the phone call.  Thank you for actually picking up the phone, dialing my number, and saying the words.  You have no idea how much they mean.  Your call demonstrated how we should never underestimate the power of reaching out.  We need each other more than we know.