Being a Good Parent

Long ago when all I could do was imagine my grown up life one day, I was being parented by good parents.  They gave me space with limits.  They weren’t  perfect but I sure knew to say, “Yes, Ma’am and Yes, Sir”, respect my elders, how to write a thank you note, and how it was important to give to others.  I was taught to respect myself and to not ever give up too.  And above all, I was told I was loved and I was.  I knew my parents loved me.  I never had reason to doubt it.  

Then one day came and just like that, I was a parent.  I was shocked by the amount of love I felt instantly for this little, tiny, baby and I was amazed that I never knew how much my parents actually loved me!  I couldn’t believe what I thought wasn’t even close and I understood them so much more.  

Everyday since becoming a parent I’ve tried my hardest to be the best mother I could be.  I’ve had visions of who I wanted to be as a mother my entire life and every day I attempt being her.  I wouldn’t have a clue how to do it if my own mother hadn’t been so great.  To be a great parent, the easiest way is to be from great parents.  We repeat the patterns we’ve been taught to repeat.  If we don’t have great parents, we’ve known someone we thought was one and we could possibly try to copy their patterns.  Or maybe if we needed an example we could find guidance.  With the love I felt for my children, I’m sure I would have tried my hardest, even if I hadn’t been shown the best examples. 

Today I’m baffled by how many parents fail at their job.  They disappear or are selfish.  They’re lazy and don’t care.  Maybe they’re just doing what was done to them.  I don’t know.  What I do know is that we all should try to be better parents than the ones we had.  Even if ours were pretty great.  If yours weren’t, why wouldn’t you envision your own childhood and give them what you wished you had?  Why is that so hard.  Remember yourself as a child and heal yourself by being a better parent than the one that failed you.  How could you not try?

I’m lucky that I had two parents that loved me.  I really am.  I was lucky enough to have 2 healthy happy children.  I have not been lucky in lots of other ways.  I will never let that affect who I am as a parent to my babies.  I wish others could feel that same way too.  I wish before cheaters cheated they’d think about how this could hurt their children.  I wish before abusers beat or ripped someone apart with words, they’d think about how that was changing their children forever.  I wish that when people do seperate and/or eventually divorce that they would put their children before their dating life or their social life.  It makes children feel last when they constantly feel like they’re last in place in your priorities.  

I’ve seen an article floating around Facebook lately about letting your children know you’re the most important person in your family, not them.  I get the point of this article but it doesn’t read right to me.  How about let’s put family first and together as a unit our family is most important.  Not any one member.  That just sounds better to me. Family.  We should all try to have better families even when it’s just a mom and her two kids, like me. 

Much Love ~ iom


Mapping Out a New Way

I’m a little lost.  It isn’t anyone’s fault but my own.  I’m avoiding everything.  I’m avoiding because of fear but that’s just an excuse.  It’s true but it’s still an excuse.  An excuse I’ve become way too comfortable with and it’s doing nothing but stealing from me.  It’s making me miss out on a new life that I should be further in creating.  I’m not setting a good example for my children. I’m focusing on the wrong things. I’m drowning, my feet are stuck in cement, waves are crashing around me, and I’m staring at a mirage in the distance.  I need to blink, or shake my head and refocus.

We all have had tragedies. I’m positive that no living person hasn’t had something difficult happen to them.  Yes, I do understand that I had a lot of them piled on top of each other, in a short period of time,  but that doesn’t make me different or more damaged.  Does it make things harder?  Maybe, but it doesn’t mean it has to be.  I’ve never been weak but I’ve been acting weak for a few months now.  I’ve been neglecting myself which I’ve learned doesn’t help me at all.  I can’t be the best me without taking care of myself.  In fact I begin to be a person who reacts and not a person who does.  A person who reacts is insecure, nervous, defensive, and sometimes not nice.  I’ve never been as aware of this as I am today.  I’ve never been so disappointed in myself and I can’t sit here and marinate in this self pity.  It isn’t who I am.  I am not a person who makes her own life worse by doing nothing.  I set goals and I go for it.  I can’t hide and let life pass me by.

So today I’ll begin again and get back on track.  No one is going to do it but me.  I have to believe in myself.  I will be kind and loving and not insulted, overly sensitive, and insecure.  If I don’t believe in myself, who the hell will.  I know who I am.  I know what I’m capable of.  I make mistakes and live outside of my moral code when I lose sight of that.  I hurt myself and I hurt others when I do and I’m ashamed of not seeing it before now.  I have to do better.  I have to be better.

   🗺 iom

A Child’s Perspective

I pray a lot and honestly I still probably could pray some more.  I pray for my children the most and our future together.  I’ve prayed for them to be ok being from a divorced family more times than I can remember.  I have prayed that they don’t remember things that have happened in front of them, to them, or even things that they heard so many, many times.  Tonight I found out, for sure, my prayers are being heard.  My daughter remembers a terrible incident as a good memory.  She remembers her father and I fighting over her one night when I was scared he was going to take her.  She was asleep and he kept going in her room and in her bed.  I just figured out he was a sex addict.  I didn’t know what this exactly meant and I didn’t trust him in our daughters bed with her.  So he went in and I went behind him and took her out of the bed and to the guest room bed with me.  Then he came and got her and then me.  Finally we both just fell asleep with her in the guest room.  There was a lot of arguing when this was going on.  I have thought of this as a failing moment for me as a mother because I could have done that better.  I could have been better but I wasn’t.  I didn’t have to argue with him.  I could have just been pleasant and just took her.  Tonight she brought this memory up when I was tucking her in.  She said, “I loved that night when you and daddy fought over me and then we all slept together in the guest bedroom.”  “I really loved all that attention…it was fun, Mommy.”  I was shocked.  I thought we’d surely relive that memory in therapy during her teenage years.  It is one of the memories I’m most disappointed in my actions.  It’s one that I prayed about a lot and it appears my prayers were answered, just not in the way I prayed for.  She didn’t forget the memory she just remembers it as something it wasn’t.  From her perspective we both wanted to love her and we both were fighting for her happily.  So strange how that turned out but I’m thankful for it not being a memory of what it really was.  

Unbelievable thankful.   


Party of 1 

Some days I wish for the simplicity of my younger days.   How big the world was and as equally big, my dreams.  I miss knowing that if I fell my parents were always there to pick me up…that I was loved unconditionally.  

I adore my children.  It is exhausting raising them without having someone to split the responsibility with, share the joys with, and plan for their future with.  It is lonely when I have the best news about one or both of them but I know I can’t share it with their father because he will ruin it.  He will steal the joy and make it about him.  So I have it alone.  I can share it with friends but no one cares about your children like you do or like their father is suppose to.  I can learn to be ok with it just being a moment that I alone am proud of.  That should be enough for me. 

Their father is ignoring them right now.  Barely giving them any time.  Missing his nightly calls.  He’s doing this partly because of they’re shining and it takes away from him.  The other reason he’s ignoring them is because my birthday is coming up.  If he talks to them, they may ask for his help to get me something.  My birthday isn’t about him and he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, so he ignores them.  It’s a pattern.  Happens every year.  He can’t turn personal holidays, like someone else’s birthday or Mother’s Day, into an event about him so he chooses to ignore them.  Ignoring them gets him talked about so that brings the attention back to him.  True narcissist style.  He doesn’t really understand that this doesn’t hurt me, it’s just another day, but it does hurt our children.  They want to be able to do something for me.  I help them with his birthday so they get really confused when he doesn’t do the same.  I always tell them to make me something but they always seem sad even when I act super excited about my picture or whatever else they made me.  That part breaks my heart.  

I really miss those carefree days when I didn’t know someone with a personality disorder could turn my world upside down.  I miss the days before I really knew they existed.  The days when I thought everyone cared about others and wouldn’t intentionally hurt you for their personal gain.  I miss the days of not having huge stressors.  I miss the days of believing I would get married to a wonderful man, have children and grow old together, loving and supporting one another.  I miss those dreams.  I miss the simplicity of them.  I miss my innocence. I miss my ignorance.  It was bliss. 

❤️ iom


I just remembered this song and how I wanted it to be on my birthing mix of music.  For the hospital.  It’s like I’ve be screaming at myself for years and I couldn’t even hear myself scream.  Sad to think about.  This is also when my ex wrote me a note and promise seconds before being let back in the operating room for my c-section.  I didn’t need the birthing mix after all.

His note said, “Ebba (a nickname my family use to call me when I was little that he thought was cute) I promise I’m going to be the best husband and daddy ever.  We are going to have the best little family and I just can’t believe we are about to have our first baby.  You’ve done such a good job preparing for her.   I know I’m going to cry like a baby. I love you so much.”

Too bad he only meant the things during the moments.  When it got hard, he always ran until he started doing (or possibly finally getting caught for) all the terribly cruel and abusive things I’ve written about.  Too bad the moments weren’t the life.

As I sit here writing this I overhear the conversations these ladies walking by were talking about.  They’re complaining about heir husbands not doing his part of the dishes or complaining over who does more of the housework.  I just wanted to scream, but does he love you? Eff the dishes and be happy you love each other.  I promise you if your marriage ends you’ll wonder why you wasted your breath on such trivial things. 


What’s up, Teeth?

This made me laugh because I am ALL TEETH!  My daughter’s 2 new grown up teeth are gigantic, she’s going to be all teeth too.  Currently she looks a little like a cute little beaver.  

It seems I don’t have tons to write about lately.  I have lots of drafts but nothing that seems worthy or interesting enough.  I’m not sure if I’ve just reached a lull in my emotion crazed mind or if I’m just tired.  I’ve had a sick kid home from school every day but one since last week.  I’m not sure how I survived when they were both home all the time.  The strength of being a mother.  You give up so much of yourself…willingly.  

I’ve eaten my words more since becoming a mother than I ever have.  How arrogant I was before.  Thinking I knew anything.  I didn’t know anything.  We all know the when I’m a mother I am never going to let my child act like that!  Laughable.  I remember clearly after having my first child saying I’m so glad I’ll never have to date again with this post pregnancy body.  Thanks life 😕.  I just need to keep my mouth shut. 

I guess I should be at ease with this moment of time where I have little to say.  At least I’m not losing it because of something awful happening.  Maybe next time it will be about something magical.  Let’s hope!



My ex just called to discuss, angrily, how many goldfish he has estimated that I have allowed our son to eat this year…..WHAT THE FUCK!!!! Does our son eat goldfish, sure.  Obsessively, no.  Everyday, no.  As a meal, no.  As a freaking snack at times.  Who cares!!!!  He went on to say I feed them poison.  I feed them nothing but junk food.  This is me, the mom with one child dangerously allergic to peanuts, and use to be allergic to treenuts and egg and a son who is a picky eater.  A son who has ADHD and a son who is an extremely stubborn picky eater but he doesn’t eat crap all day!!! I pack their lunches with fruit, a vegetable, dairy, and a protein every single day unless I am struggling and those days are not too often.  I cook dinner most every night and I try to find one thing every night that I know they’ll eat.  The only time a goldfish made it to dinner is when a put a few on a salad, like s crouton, to trick him to eat the salad.  It worked.  

This asshole has decided to pick this fight with me for some other reason.  He has a routine.  This is it.  Fighting  me on a made up amounts of some food he doesn’t approve of, that he assumes I’m feeding our children.  As far as I’m concerned it’s none of his business what I feed them.  

So he’s has won again because it is affecting me.  He knows how important it is for me to be a good mom and he loves to try to point out any or make up any reasons to why I’m failing. At least I’m here and at least I love them EVERYday and not just when I feel like it.  What a fucking douchnozzle!!!!

He sucks so bad.  Fucking ass.  

Sorry potty mouth was nessesary.