I love the movie Mean Girls. There are so many amazing scenes and one liners in that movie (“You go, Glen Coco.”), but some of my favorite parts feature Amy Poehler’s wildly inappropriate “cool mom”. My love of Amy Poehler is also strong. Parks and Rec anyone!?! But I digress.
In Mean Girls, Regina George’s mom is the mom you’re glad you didn’t have while growing up. She has tried so hard to stay up on the latest trends and to be a friend to her daughters rather than a parent that she’s a ridiculous caricature of a mother. She is a cringe worthy human being. I too am not a regular mom. I hope to one day be considered a cool mom, but in no way, shape or form in the sense of Mrs. George. My boys are still young so I have plenty of time to earn those cool points.
I’m not a “regular mom”, and right now I don’t feel too cool.
Soon after the birth of my second son I began dealing with the symptoms of what would eventually be diagnosed as Psoriatic Arthritis. Really, I dealt with my first symptoms while I was pregnant with him, but those symptoms were easily treated (once correctly diagnosed) and I didn’t give it a second thought until they came roaring back in a different form. My oldest son was 2 1/2 when the symptoms came back and were worse. My boys have never known me, or will not remember me, without this disease. That breaks my heart.
When my Psoriatic Arthritis is asymptomatic I can do most anything I’d like. But I’m still a different mom because I eat differently than the rest of my family. Based on my own research and the guidance of a health coach (read about that here https://thrivingonashes.com/2019/03/27/a-year-ago-i-changed-my-life/ ), I went gluten free a year ago. I also drastically minimized or eliminated my consumption of dairy, soy, refined oils and sugars. Meanwhile, my husband and sons do not eat this way. I eat differently than the rest of my family and there have been multiple occasions where I’ve had to explain to my boys why I can’t eat the cookie, cupcake, cracker, etc. that they are trying to share with me. A sweet gesture from them turns into a small trip down guilt lane for me. It was a little lonely when I first made this change and doing so put a small wedge between my husband and I because it changed our routine. One thing my husband and I both cherish is food. It was something we thoroughly enjoyed doing together. Whether it was going out to experience a new restaurant, cooking together or indulging in a deliciously sweet treat, food was our shared love language. Cooking separately led to eating separately some nights and that was disheartening. We’ve since navigated this, but it was an issue for a little while. Since then though, I’ve made Christmas cookies I couldn’t eat with my boys, no extra Halloween candy for me and I take “special food” to family get togethers so I know I’ll have something to eat. They are going to grow up with this being normal.
When I’m in a flare (which I currently am) I can’t do a lot of what I’d like to.
I can’t work out, I can’t concentrate on much other than getting better and I can’t be the mom, wife, woman I want to be. My specific symptoms with Psoriatic Arthritis effect my eyes (Uveitis) and my feet. During a flare in my eye, it will get red and inflamed. Sometimes this will also cause sensitivity to light and pressure in my eyeball. In my feet, I experience joint pain and inflammation. One toe on my foot will balloon to resemble a sausage and around that toe, the top of my foot will swell, get red and hot to the touch. The ball of my foot becomes tender and swollen as well. It makes it impossible to walk without pain. Imagine trying to keep up with an active four and two year old when you can barely walk. It’s as fun as it sounds. It’s not completely debilitating, and for that I am extremely grateful, but it’s hard. It’s so hard that if I focus too much on it it becomes depressing. It’s hard when my four year old asks every couple of days, “Mommy, does your foot feel better?” I’m always honest with him and say no, but I’m quick to add that it will be soon. I almost cried the day he kissed my foot to make it better. That is what works for him when he’s hurt so he figured it would help me too.
During my first flare I wondered if I would ever be better. Would I ever be normal again?
The answer was no. Autoimmune disease does not have a cure so my old normal is gone. A new normal was achieved though, and in some ways it was better than the old norm. Eventually my symptoms did go away and I took for granted that I would not flare again. Now that I’m in the midst of a pretty nasty, and long lasting flare, I find myself asking again if I will ever be better. I find myself questioning the life I have ahead of me and what kind of wife and mom I will be. It’s a heavy burden on the mind. It’s a cycle of thoughts I do my best to remain hopeful in because the positivity helps more than does the negativity I could easily drown in. That’s always the case isn’t it? Light over darkness, but light also comes from darkness.
I pray that I get well again soon. I am taking actionable steps to get there and I am optimistic I can achieve the health and wellness I seek. I hope to be the best version of myself in spite of and because of this disease. And that means being the best wife and mom I can be. In my own way.
I hope my experience with this disease teaches my boys empathy and to be less judgmental of others. I hope they learn our individual differences are what make us unique and it’s okay to be different. I hope they think I’m a cool mom one day. It may not be until they are in their 20s or 30s and can appreciate ol’ mom’s advice (because Lord knows no matter how cool I actually am they will both think I’m the lamest when they’re teenagers!). I’ll never be a regular mom, but then again who is? We’re all just doing the best we know how while flying by the seat of our pants into the great unknown that is motherhood.
