True Confession: My husband married not just one “Elise“, but a whole bunch of my “fun” little personalities all wrapped up in one little package.  Our kids have the delight of waking up to what may be a new version of Mommy every single day.  I’m just so spontaneous that way! (Sarcastic snicker)

On my best of days, and in my heart of hearts…. well, let’s face it, I do this most perfectly in my dreams really… I’m a fly by the seat of my pants kind of girl.  I don’t have a care in the world.  I laugh all day, don’t own a watch or a cell phone (sigh, dreamy, right?).  I could chase butterflies in a field with my kids for hours and come home when its dark.  We paint with our hands and spin in circles outside in the yard until we get dizzy, or swim like mermaids and sharks in the pool until our fingers look like little raisins and have built up a hunger to eat an entire pizza while wrapped in a towel poolside!  Oh yeah, that’s the Fun-Hippy-Mama in me.  That’s the mom that wore bumblee wings and a tiara last week to the door when the UPS man delivered a package. And, I wore it with a smile!  That’s the “me” that my kids really, really like!  I agree, with my munchkins, that cRaZy chica should never loser her madness. Her madness is the good kind, the kind kids like.

But… there’s another woman that lives here.

Ever seen Sally Fields in the movie, Sybil?  I could do the remake.

By the end of this summer, Fun-Hippy-Mama was about to get the boot. Because O.C.D.-Mom had her bags packed and was ready to move in with cleaning supplies, ready to put this house back in order.  She had her work cut out for her after a lovely summer of barely any computers/ipads/kindles/etc., and carefree summer days at the pool with my kiddos.  Fun and happy, right? Right.  But… my house was trashed!  Clearly, I’m not the true “hippy” at heart and my mini-van full-o-kids will never be as cool as a VW bus, because quotes like this make me cringe… even though I try, try, TRY to embrace them….

It’s so touching and lovely.  I mean that.  I truly do envy every woman that embraces it, totally doesn’t care, or has even just plain given in.  I am tortured by my NEED to clean and put my life in order.  I have diagnosed chronic sensory migraines (maybe that’s just my excuse for my dislike for chaos?), so when my house gets so cluttered, dirty, and loud, I can’t think. I can’t function. I literally shut down.  I’m not being dramatic.  (Eye roll if you must, but I’m serious. Try not to laugh) I’m completely and totally impressed by all of the other mothers that still are able to function (ie: get children to and from places, fed and not naked, aaand without forgetting someone) when their house is in shambles.  My brain is like “oatmeal”.  With each child, I’m sure that I delivered a piece of my brain as well.  Now, I have 5 living children, and have miscarried 3. That’s 8 missing pieces!!! I’m not so sure I had the best thinker to begin with, so we’re not dealing with a full deck here!  I’m sure that if we took a “Being John Malcovich” tour through my brain, you’d be less than impressed, and lost.  My brain is a house in shambles. It’s disorganized chaos.  I have that fun-loving, free thinking hippy brain.  It’s the delightful brain of an artist!  No offense to all of you artists out there.  Honest.  It should be a compliment, I just don’t know how to apply my delightfully artistic brain to real life things like …say… motherhood! I am afraid that if my physical world matched my inner world, the cops would knock on my door and take my children.  Or better yet, call me up to notify me that I forgot one at the grocery store!  That’s my real fear. Oy vey!

So, being that the same week that O.C.D.-Mom was scheduled for her arrival (the first week of school), just so happened to be the week of my diagnosis of breast cancer,  that cleaning crazed personality within me kind of, well, shut down.   She was very sad.  Very, very sad.  She felt overwhelmed and oh, so defeated.  This was all just too much.  She had plans, big plans. But not anymore.

But there’s more…

Elise loves the Marley music.  Like the Fun-Hippy-Mama,  The Rasta-Mama wants to just chill, sit back and relax, why??  If you’ve been reading this blog long enough, you know…

…and it is.  And letting go, and letting God, is definitely the way to go.  I love knowing that the buck stops with Him and He is ultimately in control.  But, I’m still human, and that’s not always easy.  I don’t always want to sit back and wait.  My family is involved in this whole cancer thing, so sometimes the Mama-Bear comes out in me that wants to treat the day more like this…

…which could sound terrible.  But, if I channel that and use it on the right day, it could be really great.  On the days that I feel like I’m at my lowest, my weakest, and I just can’t get up off the bathroom floor, I need ol’ Mama Bear.  She then helps me to get up, for the sake of my kids, for my husband, for myself, and for everyone else that wants to kick cancer’s butt and I basically “punch the day in the face” proudly!  And it’s with the fuel of your prayers and by the grace of the Holy Spirit.

So… now that my secret’s out,  I’m not just Fun-Hippy-Mama, or O.C.D.-Mom, or Rasta Mama, or Mama Bear.  I’m also Entertainer/Razzle Dazzle Mom,  Crazy Crying in front of her Children for No Apparent Reason Mom, Have a Glass of Wine with Homework From Time to Time Mom (Hey, no judging, just a little. Anyway,Jesus’ first miracle was turning water into wine, right? And His mom told him to do it.  I stand by that!), Hot-Glue Halloween Costume Mom,  Get Back in Your Bed- So Help Me Mom, … and so sooooo many more.  Truly, I could really give Sybil a run for her money!  But if anything, I pray that my children know I love them so much it hurts, so much it makes me literally this kinda crazy.  I mean, aren’t we all this many varieties and shades of motherhood?  (Cricket Cricket…. Hello?? Please say, “Yes”)  At the core,  I think we all just want to be Love You With Everything I Got Mom. Even if everything I got ain’t screwed on just right.  That’s why I need my kids.  That’s why I need my hubbie. That’s why I need God.

I try to be all these “Mommy Roles”, thinking that it’s all on my shoulders.  But if anything, having this battle with breast cancer, I’ve had to share the load.  I’ve had to rely on my family.  I’ve had to let my children show me what they can really do.  I have gotten to see how amazing my husband really is  to me and to my children.  I have let them serve me instead of splitting myself into just giving them one crazy woman, or two, or ….five… to live with.  And it has been a gift.  They are teaching me.  The Big Guy is teaching me through them.  Apparently, I really have a lot to learn.  True confession.