If we just met at a coffee shop and started chatting over a hold-the-fat-in-the-milk-but-don’t-skimp-on-the-whip-cream mocha latte, you’d quickly know that I’m a…
Boy mom. Neat freak. DIYer. Zumba instructor. Plus a family loving, wine loving, adventure loving, travel loving, Jesus girl.
What you wouldn’t know is that I struggle with anger and anxiety. I’d love to tell you that I’m a recovering yeller, but no. I’m still in the midst of my journey to being a better mom and learning positive parenting.
I’d like to tell you I have it all together, but more often than not I feel like I should be tattooed with the words “Disaster Zone Inside!”
Every day my chemically imbalanced brain and my heart get into a full-fledged cage match to wrestle out how I will work through challenging situations. Will I react impulsively or will I remember to move forward with grace and love?
Momming is hard. Really hard. But it’s amazing. It’s the most beautiful mess I’ve ever encountered.
And just as I look at motherhood as a beautiful mess, I hope that my children view me as a beautiful mess as well.
As much as I’d love for them to adore me and think that the A in my name actually stands for AWESOME, I want them to see their mom as a work in progress.
I want my children to know that life is an incredible adventure. I want them to experience it to the fullest… to explore and laugh and cry and feel overwhelm and the joy that comes in the morning. I want them to believe in themselves and know that asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness, but rather a character builder.
I want them to know that our flaws don’t define us. That we can choose joy even in difficult situations. And that we are never done becoming the person we were created to be.
Of course, I’m just shy of a joyful panic that I (me, the mom, the primary caregiver!) am the person modeling these experiences for them. And with this realization came this painful question…
“Do I want them to end up as crazy as I am?!”
Crazy fun… yes. The emotional, just shy of needing the nut house, angry, yelling kind of crazy… hard pass.
That question did cause me to press pause and evaluate how I am living my life. What do I need to change personally to help our family flourish?
The answer was neither pretty nor easy to accept. But sometimes it’s the hard, unhappy truth that causes the greatest growth. And it has been worth it. It has changed me. Changed my momming and strengthened strained relationships. And I’m not done yet.
Friends, I’ll straight up admit I’m no expert and I’m not yet standing on the summit of the mountain… or even close. In fact, some days it feels like I’ve been pummeled by an avalanche and have slid halfway back down the rugged path I’ve clambered up only to be dangling by fingertips on the edge of a cliff.
But even on the hardest of hard momming days, I have to be the best mom I can for my kids.
So I take my daily anti-depressant. Cry out the guilt of yet another mom fail for about 5-15 minutes and realize that I’m not the only mom going through this.
That’s what I want you to know too.
Most of us are a crazy hot mess under the exterior.
But we can learn to love ourselves where we are. We can work on becoming the best versions of ourselves. We can yell less, love more, choose joy, dance in the rain, and make the beautiful mess of motherhood amazing!
Please shoot me an email at [email protected]com and tell me about you! I’d love to walk through this journey together!
Fun Facts about Alisha.
My name is pronounced a-LISH-a (and the LISH part rhymes with dish and wish). People have come up with all sorts of oddities to remember how to say my name properly. The one that always makes me laugh is being called “De-lish-ous”. I’m hoping it’s because I’m sweet, not because it’s the exotic occupational name that they think best describes me.
I hate rollercoasters.
I’m terrified… TERRIFIED of heights!
I never knew how much boys could stink or how fast they could attract dirt.
I’m an only child so this whole sibling rivalry thing is strange to me. When my middle child was about 18-months old and my oldest was 3, I remember asking the doctor “What’s wrong with my boys? They pick on each other all the time! This can’t be normal!”
I tell my boys that they aren’t to tell my real age. All people need to know is “Mommy is a little over 29!”
I stick my lips out when I really get into dancing. (BTW… my favorite dance move is the Shimmy!)
I’m in the process of writing my first book.
I’d love it if you invited me to speak at your mom’s group, church, or on your podcast! (BTW… I’ve been told I’m an even better speaker and story teller than writer.)