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Dear EVERYONE

Dear Everyone,

If you have ever read, shared, “liked”, written me a message, or most importantly laughed along with me.

Thank you. 

I started writing the blog for only me. Writing is therapeutic. It’s proven that it helps people process, heal, and release. I mean why do you think your teachers made you take notes all those years? Not just handed you a sheet of paper with all those words already written on it. Because it helps you process and pay attention. Duh.

I need to process a lot as a Mom. Questions like, “Did that just really happen?” “Did he really just say that?” “Is this really my life right now?”

I need to heal a lot as a Mom. There is more healing to child birth then just the physical wounds you come out with.

I need to release a lot of things as a Mom. Let it go, says Elsa. Letting things weigh you down just makes your whole life harder. Plus I have to be light on my feet in order to save my toddlers life ALL DAY LONG.

I also just wanted to chronicle our memories. Once you have kids, so many things happened every single day. It’s impossible to remember most of it. Every one is growing, changing, busy, hungry, and too much happens in every single day. I wanted to bottle up how I felt at certain periods of time whether the memory be good or bad. That way nostalgia won’t change the real story 25 years from now. I want my boys to be able to look back at their childhood and understand that things aren’t always roses and that’s OKAY. Just keep trucking’ dudes. I don’t want my motherly advice to be for them to have more and more babies if that not what is actually logical. Just because I’m selfish and love playing with babies. Ha ha. Don’t forget future Brit, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, someone has to cup their hands while their kid pukes in it.

Lastly, I knew I wanted to share with any one who wanted to follow along.

Sharing is powerful.

Mom friendship is powerful.

Everyone needs support in all different forms.

Now I never really thought too much beyond that. I could have never imagined all the amazing feedback I have gotten back. The messages i’ve received are just simply awesome. I had no idea how humbled I would be that women would reach out to me.

That people would write me messages and share personal details of there life.

If one Mom who read my blog felt less alone, it would be a victory. But I wasn’t prepared for effect it would have on people. That they would feel comfortable enough to write to me. To share with me. To trust me.

What a powerful thing.

I never thought about the impact I could make on new moms by just telling the truth.

The truth is: You are not alone. No matter how you feel at this point in time. This too shall pass.

Women would write to me and words would stick out in my mind. When they would start to talk about the difficult parts of becoming a parent, I could see words like:
Guilt, shame, defeated, worry, anxiety, low.

As I would read, I’m like look at this shit. Look at these beautiful Mom creatures. Words like guilt and shame running around in their brains for just having a bad thought. For wishing they could be sitting on a beach in Aruba instead of being bashed in the head by Thomas the train while emptying the dishwasher.

Suddenly feeling like a terrible Mom for daydreaming about running away for a couple weeks!

So silly.

It’s okay to day dream. It’s not against the law. It doesn’t make you a bad Mom.

Relax.

As long as you come back down to Earth eventually.

 

These Mom’s so jacked up on pregnancy hormones and baby blues or the “let down” that they are completely oblivious to how awesome they are.

Guilt? Shame? WTF. Guys reading this are like, wow, Ladies be CRAY. Um, Ya. We are. So watch out dude. Those words are CRAY CRAY. But they somehow pop up in postpartum time.

It’s really so unfair being a girl sometimes. I thought getting my period on my khaki pants in 8th grade was bad. That’s child’s play compared to the embarrassing things that have happened to me while creating humans.

That’s the thing though… I CREATED HUMANS.

So let’s get rid of those words. Let’s replace them with…

You Mom’s are…

the shizz. the bomb (bringing it back!). amazeballs. unbelievable. irreplaceable. important. remarkable. wonderful. beyond compare.

It makes me want to shake every single one of you and say….

Don’t cry Mom. If you don’t instantly see unicorns and rainbows flying out of your babies butt when they are born. If your expectation of what you are “supposed” to feel isn’t met. If you feel disconnected. Every one’s child birth experience is 100% different. That’s a fact. You and that babe are going to be just fine. You’ll see.

Don’t cry Mom. I know it’s the middle of the night and you hear the breast pump talking to you. The noise it makes starts to sound like a word being yelled at you repeatedly. You aren’t losing your mind. Well maybe you are? But you’ll survive. Your husband might not. Snoring away in bed.

Don’t cry Mom. So you’ve genuinely asked yourself, “Can I even do this?” and “What have I gotten myself into?’ You instantly feel a pang of guilt hit you. How could I ever think this? You are so lucky. Your family is so awesome. I should be super Mom. Well, you are just a person. A person going through the biggest transition of your life. It’s okay to think. As long as you know you will be fine and you can just let those thoughts come and then let them go.

Don’t cry Mom. For not even knowing why or how you are your husband started fighting? You were having a great night. How did things escalate so quickly? We never used to argue. It’s okay. You will be fine. It’s stressful to figure out how to be a parent team. I’m sure some people adjust much more quickly than others. Husband dear and I may always be a work in progress! The good new is, we will both always put in the work. Even when it’s hard.

Okay go ahead and cry Mom. The baby won’t sleep. He has also pulled your hair quite a bit during the events that have transpired in these dark hours of nighttime. You are so tired and so frustrated. The crying is hurting your soul. It’s okay. You can cry while you hug that baby. He won’t mind. Sometimes you do just have to let it out. It’s truly not easy loving anyone this much. Have a good solid cry. Then regroup the next day and start all over again. Because that’s what Mom’s do.

You are awesome.

You are mostly awesome, because all of your positive feedback to me has made me realize that I can do  a whole bunch of things with my life. I’m never going to be J.K. Rowling. But I can write and I can share. I can be the adult that 6th grade Brittany would have wanted me to be. Sixth grade Britt may have been overweight, had one eye brow, and cut off her bangs at the root (So that when the grew back it looked like a nice row of pubic hair on my forehead. Needless to say, lesson learned.) But she knew how to dream. She loved to write and she definitely wasn’t afraid.

Mesmerised by the children’s author. You get paid to make up stories sir? 
Um, I lie and my parents let me rot in my room for the afternoon. 

 

Always entering contests.

 

 Hanging around with people who want to make a difference. Giant t-shirts and too much gel in my hair that year. 
Speech competition.
 Because then every one has to listen to me blabber 
on and they have no choice! Haha! 

 

Your encouragement has fueled me to want to write again.

So thank you.

Thank you for reading along. 

Even if you wouldn’t admit to any one that you read it. Hahaha. If you are turning your screen away from your spouses face in bed so the light doesn’t wake them up.

Either way, I’ll post a blog and see that it got 500 views and I am just humbled.

I don’t care about “likes.” If you get your self esteem from how many likes you receive on social media, I’ll pray for you.

You don’t have to comment. You don’t have to do anything at all. You can even do the opposite. Doesn’t matter to me. You could be a mean mom and say to your mom friends, “What does Britt think she’s cool or something now because she has a Mom blog??”

Um, YA! I must be pretty cool if you are talking about it!

Ben & I actually do a “cool dude” dance regularly. We put sun glasses on and just chant, “cool dude! cool dude!” Of course, dance included.

I do have a policy for never apologizing for liking myself. You shouldn’t either. If you don’t like yourself… Maybe you should stop acting like a butt face. Try that. Then re-group.

Thank you thank you for reading along.

Seeing that I’ll post a blog and it will get 500 hits has fueled me to keep doing it. Throughout the process of writing, I started to think more about what I want. Not being all talk. Taking action. Practicing what I preach, if you will! I finally decided I feel like I need to go to yoga teacher training. Because that’s what a lot of Yoga teachers are. They are sharers, story tellers, a friendly voice. It just feels right. And exercise is fun and awesome. So here we go!

Thank you.

 

Britt
President of the Barn Frat of Cape Cod
Somebody’s Mother

Nice ankle weights, Mom.

 

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