Why are we the hardest on those we love the most?

After a particularly trying day dealing with a cranky two year old, I sat down-nearly in tears, and tried to evaluate what had gone wrong. There is no feeling worse for me than the realization that I have somehow raised a child who refuses to listen to me, does not react to any form of discipline, and is COMPLETELY out of  control. To make matters worse, if my husband so much as looks at her sternly she becomes a withering mess of apologies and tears. Why then, is she SO resistant to me?

It seemed so unfair. I dedicate my life to her. I spend every moment making her smiley face pancakes and cutting crusts off her sandwiches, yet she behaves worse for me than anyone else. She screams "No Mommy", hand outstretched to keep me away so often that it is a reflex. She rolls her eyes at me when I say I love her. It seems she spends her whole life trying to escape my embrace.

Then it occurred to me just how similar we really are.  You see I too have a history of treating the people, who love me the most, the worst.

As a teenager, I was horrific to my mother. I remember screaming at the top of my lungs that I hated her, because I was not allowed to dress like a whore for the school dance. I cry thinking about it now-as a mother I know how horribly those words must have hurt. I remember being embarrassed of my parents because they were older than my friends' parents were and asking them to stay in the car...how cruel. I didn't realize how lucky I was to HAVE parents, especially the rare gift of parents that were still together. Did I hate her? No. Was I really that embarrassed. No. I was simply trying to win. It was a game and I aimed to hurt them until I won. Thank God they never let me.

In my marriage I have similar issues. I have a loving and committed husband. I know he will never leave. His love his steadfast, constant, and all-inclusive. But I can never resist hurting him. At times I have told him he is not enough, that I deserve more, that I am unhappy. These things are not true. These are my tests, my love meters, my insecure child begging for attention and reassurance. I need to see that no matter how I act, how I treat him, what I say. He will stay. He will love me, and he will stay.

Which brings us to Maya. I am at a loss at how to deal with her tiny little rebellions. She can be such a sweet girl, but then out comes the anger, the pushing, the testing.  Yes I guess testing is the right way to look at it-though not in the traditional way of thinking. Maybe she isn't testing the rules or testing the boundaries, maybe she is, in fact, testing me. Am I passing? Maybe, much like her Mama she needs to see that no matter how she acts, how she treats me, what she says. I will stay. I will love her, and I will stay. Luckily, that is a test I can pass with flying colors.

Fumbling through this together:)

Well, this blogging stuff is tricky! But I have an exciting announcement to make-I will be adding some sections for my readers. While continuing to have original content, I will be reviving my great deals blog and linking it here so it is all in one place. I would eventually like to share all my passions in one spot-savings, photography, writing, and also link to my favorite bloggers and stores as well! It looks like I have a long road ahead of me:) Bear with me as we discover-together-just what Amy Jo Stays Home will grow into:)

Wasted Days...

When it comes to being me, some days are easier than others. I am sure that's the truth for everyone. But today as I watched the clock like a hawk, waiting for nap time so I could get some things accomplished, it occurred to me that I was wishing away five hours. Now losing a mere five hours seems insignificant, but is it?

Imagine if instead of grumpily watching the clock, I dedicated those five hours to something positive. Five hours of cooking-something Maya loves to do-would have gotten me enough freezer food for a weeks worth of meals. Five hours of playing restaurant with her might have made a memory she took with her for the rest of her life. Maybe that five hour play session would be the one she told her own children, or grandchildren about...my mom wasn't like that-my mom liked to play with me ALL DAY.

The guilt set in. Then I took it even further. What if those five hours were my last. Obviously they weren't, but can we ever really know that? Would I want my daughters last memories of me to be of me typing away online-too busy to put more playdoh into the fun factory (for the three hundredth time)? What if I knew they were my last five hours? I would be racing, feverishly, too accomplish all I could. To help those I love, to give them enough hugs to last them until we meet again, to remind them that I love them-even though I rarely say it, to write my book, to run a marathon, to spend time with God and be comforted that although death is an earthly end-it is not THE end.

Then it hit me. Someone, somewhere, IS in their last five hours. They may have been in an accident, or have fought bravely against a disease. Perhaps age has simply taken its toll and their life is quickly fading. They sit there, knowing the end is near, wishing so desperately for one more day-to live REALLY live. To hold the ones they cherish, or write that last page, to tickle their child, or run one more race, to say more I love yous, to apologize for the tears they have caused...What would they think of me? The watcher of the clock.  Squandering away my time here like an irresponsible snob, not only allowing the minutes to pass, but WISHING for them to pass faster.

Maya forgive me. You are a blessing and every second with you is a gift that I do not deserve. Aidan forgive me. You are so sweet and undemanding of my attention that you get far less than your share. Lord forgive me. Thank you for every second I have been given. Help me to use them to encourage, to love, to improve, to rejoice, to honor, and to serve you, and may I never take another second for granted.

Remember that little things can create big change...

I mentioned in my last blog post that I am, at times, disappointed in myself. The logical part of me knows this is silly. I have two beautiful kids,(especially right now since they're napping), I got to graduate from college, I live in a nice home, am married to my high school sweetheart...It is a pretty sweet set up honestly. But deep inside of me there is still a tug. Some days it is is a small nudge, and others it is an overwhelming pull-like I am on the losing end of a tug-of-war game. It is the strong, ever-present throbbing of a "dream deferred".

Perhaps it is due to my rather indulged childhood, or being raised in a generation that taught high self-esteem over honesty. Maybe everyone starts out this way and I just never outgrew it. Maybe I am special. But, truly, I have always believed I would be someone. The kind of someone that changed things. I always knew that I would awaken minds, warm souls, and  challenge the norms. I always felt I had more to offer than my small town could handle, that one day I would break out and emerge-a swan done being an ugly duckling. It isn't about money or fame so much as it is about validation. That people would hear what I had to say and nod in agreement and shed tears of clarity.  My mom would say how proud she was or maybe even my dad...I am not sure I have ever heard him say those words to anyone-let alone me.

As I have gotten older, I have gotten better at ignoring this voice.  I am too busy, too practical, too old, too responsible.  As the old adage goes "If you don't want to do something you will always be able to find a reason." But still, sometimes I lie awake at night and ask myself, "When will you make your move?" I am lost as to what my move even is, so this is a difficult question. Maybe to write a book? I have always wanted to do that...But my fear of failure keeps me from even beginning. What if the story I have longed to tell the world, my masterpiece, my quintessence is average? Or even bad? What if noone reads it? What if I can't even finish? I then carefully brush the dream aside and continue trying to forget that I used to believe I was special.

But today I got a message. It was from an old friend-more of an acquaintance really. It thanked me for my last blog post. He shared with me that he and his wife were going through some things and that they took comfort in knowing that noone was perfect and that they were not alone. I smiled and tears welled up in my eyes. Perhaps I am not ready to change the world with the great american novel, perhaps I never will be. But maybe if I follow my heart and share my own truth, I can make a difference in one person's world, and maybe that's enough...at least for now.

Stop trying to "seem" anything...

If there is one thing in my life I am adamant about, it is being authentic. I pride myself in being me and ONLY me and not caring what anyone thinks...that being said I spend too much of my life trying to "seem" things...prettier, thinner, smarter, funnier, stronger, older, younger... The list goes on like a tunnel of mirrors. I have always been a good actress and one of the burdens that comes along with that is that I spend so much of my life pretending to be the person I want to be,it becomes difficult to know whether I am "being" a good mom, or just "seeming" like one. A few days ago I got an email from a friend and one of their comments sent me spinning. "Wow", "It looks like you have everything figured out, you have just the life you always said you wanted, you are so lucky to have your white picket fence." I felt INSTANTLY guilty for her seeing me in this light. YES I have a wonderful husband and children. Yes I have a nice home. YES I am generally very happy. I have much to be thankful for. But the perfect life she was seeing in my facebook albums was NOT real. These were highlights. My life has lowlights too. So in the interest of being honest and admitting, once and for all that I am NOT, nor do I claim to be, perfect. Here are my confessions.

Here are some parts of my life  you won't see pictures of in my facebook albums:

Travis and I argue. ALOT. It is part of how we communicate. We do not have a perfect marriage. No one does. What we do have is love and a commitment to see it through, forever, no matter what.

I am PAINFULLY insecure. I have this tough girl act down to a science, but the truth is, I am extremely insecure. I hate my facial paralysis and I feel like the whole world stares at my squinty eye. I have dry skin, dandruff, and scar tissue on my lip that looks like a cold sore. Most days, I couldn't care less. I go on with my life and laugh and smile and forget about it. But I have the other days too. The days that I try on 6 outfits and hate them all and cry because I don't look like a model. Yep I am that shallow.

My kids make me cry. Yep I love them more than anything in the world but somedays it seems IMPOSSIBLE to be a good mom. Both kids are screaming, the puppy is biting my arm, I just found a pee puddle on the couch and dinner is burning and sending smoke into the house...a good mom takes a deep breathe and carries on calmly, maybe even with a giggle. Sometimes I do that too, but sometimes-I cry.

My kids are not perfect. I understand there is some unwritten rule where we are supposed to believe our kids are angels but here's the deal. They aren't. Maya says no CONSTANTLY. She is not a good listener. She gets so mad that she bites and she has an unbreakable will. Aidan is a fountain of spit and is CONSTANTLY soaked.  Maya is so stubborn I truly feel like we will never be able to know what she knows. she knows all her colors but calls everything green. Sh can count to ten but won't unless we can find a way to trick her. Some days she tells me "no mama go away". I have no idea what the correct reaction to this is but sometimes it makes me cry. It hurts.

My house is a mess almost ALL the time. Seriously. It's bad. I have only washed my windows about twice in the last 7 years. There, I said it.

I am lonely. I know I shouldn't be. I know I am lucky. I know I have a husband and family and friends that all love me. But still, sometimes I feel alone.

I am disappointed in myself. i always thought I would be a huge success. I thought there would be this defining moment in life where I showed the world they were wrong about me. I would be the ceo of something, the inventor of something, the writer of something. I am not.

There are a million more. But truthfully, despite it all I am happy. I love my life, the goods and the bads. I wouldn't trade my crazy kids for anything in the world and I like them better than the stepford children on TV. This life is the one I was meant to have, even if it doesn't fit the plan I had in my head. Perfect no, but perfect for me:)

Project Five- Make an Awesome Birthday Cake

Objectives-Make Me a Better Mom

Injuries sustained-none, but my hands were stained for a few days from the black fondant...

Difficulty level-It was very time consuming but not super difficult!

How Maya “Helped”-She didn't, she went to grandma's so I could surprise her:)

So I have always dreamed of making my kids ridiculous over-sized and beautiful birthday cakes. It is an ultimate Donna Reed type goal for me.  Last year, I bought a hello kitty cake pan and followed the instructions and made a decent cake. It was my first attempt, and it wasn't half bad. That being said, it was NOT something I was overly proud of. Being a perfectionist, I have a hard time claiming anything that doesn't look professionally done. I seem to always expect to get professional results with no training or tools. I know this is a little unrealistic, but hey that's why-most perfectionists are unhappy. As a matter of fact, I was going to include a picture of said cake, but I didn't take any because it wasn't perfect. Go figure. 

This year, thanks to Pinterest (Pinterest deserves its OWN post) I found my dream cake, well sort of. It was an owl on top of multiple tiers.It was a fondant wonderland. My one problem was I had never made or used fondant OR made a layer cake. Due to my ridiculous overconfidence and my tendency to be a dreamer, I decided it couldn't be that hard and recruited a good friend to make it with me. 

I found a blog with a good tasting fondant made out of marshmallow, a butter-cream recipe, and some great cake tutorials at Adventures in Savings and went to work. SHOCKINGLY, everything fell into place. We baked the cakes, iced them, covered them in fondant, decorated with fondant, and made a chocolate coated rice crispie treat owl for the top.

 I enjoyed this so immensely that I decided to sign up for cake decorating classes and learn to do it correctly! I looked at the finished cake and felt like the best mom in the world. It wasn't perfect, but when Maya walked in and screamed OWL CAKE!! I knew it was a success. 

Project Four- Make Time for Me (and This Blog)

Objectives-Make Me a Better Mom. Make Me a Better Wife, Make Me a Better Person

Injuries sustained-none, but I experienced some unexpected and unnecessary guilt...

Difficulty level-It's pretty difficult and still a work in progress.

How Maya “Helped”-She loves her night with Daddy:)

So I am sure you have now given up on me as I have not written or updated on her in weeks. It's sad. I love writing and this is an accurate representation of the priority I give it in my life...as a matter of fact, it seems to be a pretty good metaphor for the priority I give ME in my life...last.


Why is it a mother is always last to eat, last to sleep, and last to rest? We are stretched so thin there is literally not enough of us to go around. I sometimes feel like I am simply a series of roles and functions, not really a person at all. Breakfast maker, clothes washer, dish doer, boo boo kisser, floor cleaning, puppy scolder...the list goes on and on. But when am I "Amy Jo" ? Even when I do things for myself-like take a bath or go for a run, the entire time I am feeling guilty for the things I SHOULD be accomplishing for someone else. I know that once you have children, they should come first, and mine certainly do. But it seems that there should be room, somewhere in my day, for me to breathe.


I have been working for a while on a solution to this problem...while I haven't solved it I HAVE taken some steps. First of all, I am getting up crazy early in the morning. I have been getting up between 5 and 6, before the kiddos and taking a few minutes to just BE. This helps my mood immensely, the quiet is almost a religious experience when you have two little ones around most of the time:) My mother always did this and I am beginning to see why it was worth getting less sleep. Secondly, I started taking a class:) A friend and I signed up at a local Joann's for cake decorating classes. This gives me an APPOINTMENT with myself. This is important for a few reasons. ONE-it is on the calendar and set in stone, I can not miss it if I feel too busy or guilty to leave the kiddos. TWO-my hubby knows about it a head of time so I don't have to feel guilty asking him to watch the kids-which is such a crazy concept anyway. Why is it babysitting when he watches the kids yet it's my job??? (that's a whole other post ). THREE- It gets me out of the house which keep the kids from seeking me out and demanding my attention (which is what happens if I try to do things at home). 

It has been nice to reclaim my "Self" and to create a few moments to be "Amy Jo". Honestly,  I kind of missed her. But with all the craziness of my life and the work that never ends, I wouldn't trade it for the world...I am so blessed to have a home, a family, even this crazy never- stops-destroying-things-puppy we call Lucy. But sometimes, a few hours away  makes it easier to see, I am truly living the dream.