It's time.

It's time I joined the lovely Kim for a Secret Mommy-hood confession.



Today is the perfect day. Especially as I was writing this post in my head since this morning.

And then I read her post and before I could even allow myself to comment I grabbed the button and came over here to write.

I'm so tired.

I was away last weekend and kid-free, so what do I have to bitch about, right?

Right.

But this morning - after I busted my ass in my very first Zumba class (YAY, FREAKIN' ME!) - and my daughter enjoyed her third week of ballet and tap - I was ready to lose it.

Why? Why - you ask?

Because we got into the car and my husband proceeded to tell me that this week they had the cameras on in our Zumba classroom.

My first mother-loving Zumba class ever.

The one where I KICKED ASS?

Yeah. That one.

And then he proceeded to tell me I was * you know, I got so ticked off at him for saying it that I forget the exact wording. Isn't that always the way? * let's say, off target with the routine towards the end of the class.

What the eff?

For real?

Thanks, honey. I just felt really great. I just worked up more of a sweat than I have in quite possibly years. I just moved and jiggled and did things with my body I wasn't sure I knew how to do.

And you're telling me I was off track?

Damnit, what the hell was the wording he used?

He didn't see my eyes blur behind my sunglasses.

He did hear my voice as I thanked him for making fun of me.

It wasn't his intention. He did apologize. I shrugged it off. I know he was just joking.

It stung, though. It kind of stung. A lot.

I really DO know he was joking. And I know he doesn't know how harsh those words scraped me. Raw. Because I'm trying. Really trying. And I'm also kind of trying hard to put myself first now and then. Not always. Just enough to know that if I do it I can maintain the semblance of sanity. The way a movie night does for him, a workout does for me. I just need more of them. It's a way to find myself again. Remind myself I'm worth it.

I love my husband, and I love my daughter. But sometimes I just feel a little twinge of wanting to just BE. Flying around taking care of me for a short while. It shouldn't be that hard, should it?

I mean, shouldn't I be able to get some of that stuff done WHILE being incredible mom? A wife? Why can't I define the kind of wife I am - where are the words? Is it true that once you become mom you lose track of the other roles in your life? Shoot - that'd totally suck.

Because I try to be them all. Somehow I try to get all done that needs to be done. And I try to make some time for me in the midst of all that. My daughter's being really tough lately - I know we're both drained because of it. And it sucks. The never-ending battles? I want them to end. And soon.

There's no class next week because of the extended holiday weekend for the Fourth. But I'll be back in two weeks. Shaking my behind. Bustin' a move. Working as hard as I can and breaking a sweat. Who cares what I look like? I just want to MOVE. I want to feel my body and have it belong to me again.

And I honestly don't care what the hell I look like while doing it.

I'm getting ME back.

So there.

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