The Frazzled Mom

I’m completely amazed when I see parents of multiple children who are not frazzled. The ones who at least seem to have their sh*t together – you know who they are; they ooze this enviable sense of calm in the midst of complete chaos. While also managing to keep their children alive. It’s truly amazing.

Because me? I’m not calm. Or cool. Or collected. Like, at all.

Truthfully, this is just how I’m wired. Let’s just say anxiety runs through my arteries as heavily blood. I can manage it fairly well, but when something gets me going (usually my three kids going bat-sh*t crazy all at the same time), the anxiety spiral starts to spin waaaaaay out of control.

In addition to this, I am also super sensitive to stimuli (introvert, anyone?), and I don’t like a lot of noise, chaos, disruption or mess. Well, oops. ‘Cuz I went ahead and had three kids (though, in all fairness, I’d only intended to have two, but you know… life is funny sometimes).

Making matters just a wee bit harder is that one of my little people is incredibly strong-willed. I knew it would be her personality from the womb. She constantly kicked — and hard at that. She came out breathing fire. Not really, but… kind of. From the instant she was born she seemed to know her place in this world, and certainly in our family (you know, “the boss”, “the alpha”, “the queen”) as well as how to fight to secure that role.

She’s also the funniest, sweetest, smartest little gal, too. (Thank goodness, right?!) We love her fiercely — as we do all our kiddos — but she gives us a run for our money.

If she were our only it’d be exhausting, but adding two others to the mix along with my sensitive nature and low-threshold for stress, and — voila! — you’ve got yourself a recipe for a totally frazzled mom of three.

There was the time when my spirited little babe ran away from me in a museum packed to the brim with people. I nearly lost my mind. I had taken all three to the bathroom and was helping one of the kids wash hands, and when I glanced back she was gone. She’d darted out of the bathroom and back to the room where there was a band playing kids music. It was THE scariest moment of my life. With the help of incredibly kind strangers, we found her on the dance floor having the time of her life.

Cue my total meltdown.

Being out in public also means carrying a ton — I mean A TON — of stuff. Usually a child, for starters (because God forbid all three very capable-of-walking children should actually walk), a diaper bag, emergency meds (epi-pen and such — we’re a food allergy family), and the baby dolls and barbies who accompany us everywhere we go.

Would I change it? Yeah – I wish I could change myself to adjust better to what is. I wish I was better at going with the flow. I wish I knew better how to parent each kid in exactly the way they all need — because they are all so, so different. But… I’m doing my best. My very, very best. And so (sometimes begrudgingly) I accept the way I’m wired, do my best not to let anxiety and overwhelm steal the special moments I have with my family, and try my damnedest not compare myself myself to all the super-chill, frazzle-free parents in the world.

But here’s what I wouldn’t change: my kids. They are each so unique and amazing; hilarious and, sure, at times trying. But they’re mine, and I love them so. And I’m so damn lucky to be their mom, and that they love me in return.

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