Moles or Mountain Goats?

According to my "post count" on this blog, this is my 63rd blog post on Just One More Thing Mommy...sixty-three posts is a lot of posts! And I know that I have covered a wide range of things. Football, death, work, children, my weight...there isn't typically anything that is off limits. There are some things that I keep locked away in my heart and I flirt with sharing them here on my blog. But there are always two questions that I try and ask as I'm typing these posts. Number 1: Is the topic I'm writing about going to be able to lead into any sort of lesson that I can learn, and in turn pass on to my readers and Number 2: Once I hit publish on the post, is it something that could potentially cause damage to my children. Early on in my blogging life with this blog, I was criticized for posting stories that Amelia and Emerson were sharing with me. I was reminded that my children were trusting me with conversations and that I was in turn posting them on the internet for all to read and that they would eventually resent me and not trust me to talk to me. And although I dismissed some of those reminders, the general theme of them stayed true to me. What if those people were right? What if my girls grew up and read my blog and hated me for sharing such personal information on the blog. What if Amelia would like to grow up without anyone knowing that she has sensory issues? But then I thought, I wish people knew that I do too! In fact, I'm pretty vocal with people about things I can't stand. Repetitive noises, mushy foods, certain textures, people standing behind me...What if the girls didn't want people to read about their conversations with me about death and their father? So, I have been very careful to make sure that the two questions I ask lead to an answer I can live with. And, if the answers that are presented are not something I can live with, then I quickly move to the next topic on my list. Having two children, I am pretty much guaranteed at least one good just one more thing moment that will lead to a great reminder for myself, or a great lesson to my readers. Tonight, as I made the rounds, I tucked my sick littlest one into bed. Her parting words to me were, "Mommy, please let me go to school tomorrow. It's pajama day and I want to wear my jammies to school." I smiled and told her to get a good night's rest and we'd see in the morning. I walked to Miss Amelia's room and started getting her tucked in. I kissed her goodnight and turned to walk out of her room when she made a statement. The words rang in my ears and I froze where I was. I slowly turned to look at her and tried to act as neutral as I could. "What did you say?" And this is where I'm going to pause the conversation and look at my two questions. The answer to question number one is a yes. There is a lesson here that I would like to convey to my readers. There is a tie-in to my daily life, and to the lives of most of the people reading my blog. In fact I've written and re-written my opening paragraph to my post tonight, just because I know that this topic is important to cover. But, my answer to number two? Not so clear. My children are my priority. The angst that this is causing me should probably be enough to close the book and say, "Nope, it's not worth it." And this is most likely where this post is going to stop. I'm not brave enough to do it. I'm not brave enough to talk about my six-year-old's one more thing moment. Tonight, as I spun around to look at my little girl, I tried to stay even-keeled. I tried not to react to the phrase she had just stated. And, just for the record, she didn't say anything wrong, or naughty. She made a statement that many of us use daily, or at least weekly. But, it was shocking to me, and it knocked the stuffing right out of me. I didn't know what to say to her other than to fight the tears that were welling up in my eyes and to move on. Tell her how much I love her and that I'm proud of her always and that I'm always here for her no matter what. Tell her that she can talk to me about, and tell me anything. Hug her and hold her and stop my reaction from making a mountain out of a molehill. I am stressed to the max. I have a million things I need to do at work. I forget sometimes how to say no so I am stretched super thin right now. I have what seems like hundreds of reports to write, and the meetings to back those up. And when I'm stressed at work, it by nature spills into our home. I'm cranky at the kids sometimes. I snap at them. I tend to yell more that I ever do. I over-react the things that shouldn't be a big deal. And I'm sure if I were brave enough to finish this story, many of you would scratch your head and think, "Really? She's creating drama over this?" But when I'm stressed and when it involves my children, and when you think about the history that we may have, it all becomes a huge, yucky mess. And I am in momma bear mode because my blog will not be the way that my children find things out. My writings here will not become playground fodder for some mean kid to eventually pick on Amelia or Emerson about something. This will not be the forum where rather than dealing with the tough stuff with my girls face to face, they can google me and find their backstory. One day, in a time a long time from now I hope, I can reveal to you the sentence that came out of my baby's mouth. In the meantime, hold your children. Hug them. Protect them. And shelter them for as long as you can. I never wanted my children to be "those children" where they were expected to grow up way before their time, and I've done my best to try and make that not happen. But you can't survive the things that my tough girls have survived and not have a different sense of maturity than many of their classmates and the people they are with do. I know that when I'm stressed, I over-react. Not just with my children, but also with how hard I am on myself. These times, when I'm already spinning my wheels and running around like a chicken with her head cut of, is when I start to feed into my self-doubt and my guilt. I should have done more. I should have protected them better. I should have shielded them from what they had to go through. And even though I know that there was nothing I could have done, no way I could have known where our path would lead, it doesn't make the hate and anger towards myself go away. I'm stressed. I'm tired. I don't feel well. And it's all starting to add up and take it's toll. But you know what? I may be making a mountain out of a molehill. But I've also gotten pretty darn good at climbing those mountains.