Monthly Archives: September 2011

Friday.

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GOOD GRIEF. 
I made it through this ridiculous week. The hazing is now complete.

I will be treating myself to a pedicure tomorrow while Husband watches ONE and TWO (read: watches the LSU game while ONE runs wild, and TWO sits in a boppy pillow staring blankly). 

I haven’t looked at my feet in a long time … but a toenail caught on my bedsheet last night as I was tossing and turning, and it reminded me I really need to pay attention to myself before I turn into “that” mom who “used to be cute.”

Also, it’s high time I got out of the house.

Open Letter.

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To The Makers of Play-Doh,

You make my son very happy. However, I find your product stressful. 

It’s sticky and messy and impossible to clean out from underneath little fingernails. Also, children think it’s edible. Why? Because it’s salty. Like potato chips. 

You do not mesh well with my obsessive need for cleanliness. Actually, children don’t either.

That is all,
Harmony

The House of Screechers.

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My children are taking turns screaming at the top of their lungs.

ONE has been very unlikable. That is putting it mildly. He is three and adjusting to his new life. I keep having to say that out loud, lest I completely LOSE it and lock him in the backyard until his daddy comes home.

Things seem to be very slightly improving each day … or maybe I am just getting used to the cacophony of screeching that takes place from 7 a.m. – 7 p.m. or later. I hope it really is getting better, because no one likes to visit The Family Of Screechers.

But then, moments like this happen, and I have a glimmer of hope that I will have a normal life again one day, we will all like each other most of the time, and the screeching will cease.

Wow.

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This stay-at-home mother-of-two gig is harder than I imagined it would be. 

After two days of child-rearing without anyone else helping me, I am exhausted. Also, I haven’t looked in a mirror since early this morning. So I took a self-portrait, just for fun.

As you can see, I am getting my ASS handed to me.

High Alert.

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I have a confession to make.

I smugly thought I could handle two children without any problems. That’s called Mom Amnesia. I had forgotten how rough it can be at the beginning. The lack of sleep, the nonstop crying, the tired arms from carrying an infant all over the house. I forgot how much Husband and I fought after we had ONE. I forgot all of it, because I only remembered the good stuff. 

Now we have TWO and it’s all coming back to me. I am no longer smug. I am overwhelmed. But I am also stubbornly willing to do whatever I need to do to make it all work, so … IT WILL BE OKAY. There simply is no other option.

The main thing we have going for us is that Husband and I love and like each other. We are a team. The other thing is that ONE and TWO seem to love each other as well. If we can all make it through the days without someone getting seriously hurt, then I will be happy.

I have been on “high alert” ever since TWO arrived. It’s pretty tiring. But don’t worry, I am taking a high-quality B vitamin every day. I will not be mentioning my anxiety to my doctor, because I think it’s normal. We are equipped to sense danger when we bring a child into the world. It just so happens that the “danger” is my oldest child.

I am constantly worried that a toy is going to smack my newborn in the face, or ONE is going to accidentally step on him. I have worked out a whole bunch of scenarios in my head and all of them are equally awful. My aunt pointed out that this is what makes mothers gray and wrinkled. I believe she is correct. 

I accept that.

Here you can see my arm extended out. Just making sure TWO didn’t end up with a broken neck.

Here you can see that I am sitting pretty much on top of them. ONE wanted to rub noses with TWO. I immediately envisioned a broken nose. But like I said earlier, it’s all going to be okay. I hope.

Ergonomically Correct.

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I have entered the world of infant carriers. I’m finding it to be overwhelming.
When I had ONE, I was basically clueless about what items would help me salvage the remainder of my sanity. I used a hand-me-down infant carrier to walk for hours with him every week. After he finally outgrew it (and the colic that prompted me to carry him everywhere), I threw it away. I was so sick of wearing it. And it wasn’t really comfortable anyway.
This time, I know better. TWO is shaping up to be a different breed — his colic seems to be corrected, but he fusses a lot unless someone is holding him. I think he’s a very social baby. He likes to be upright, so he can look around, and he gets upset if you stick him off in a corner somewhere by himself. I truly don’t mind holding him, unless I am busy with ONE. Which is often. And as I mentioned in an earlier post, a friend is letting me borrow her Moby Wrap, but I simply cannot deal with that thing when a child is screaming. Which is often.
Apparently, when under motherhood-type stress, I go into a weird mental space that causes me to lose ALL my motor skills. It’s like when ONE locks himself in his bedroom. We have a key above his door, and I can totally open it, unless I’m mad, in which case … forget it. 
So armed with all of this knowledge, I just spent way too much money on something called an Ergo. Behold. Here it is in all of it’s bright green glory. Yes, I picked the loudest color option available. If I am going to tote my baby around in something that was overpriced, I at least want it to be fun to look at.

 
Let’s go ahead and file this under “things my husband will never understand.”

Silence = Agreement.

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My mother-in-law is here, and she has had the pleasure of witnessing my postpartum quirks in all their glory. The anxiety, the obsessive cleaning, the short temper, the yelling at ONE … it’s been something. At least she hasn’t seen me flip out on her son, my husband. We’ve got that going for us.

This morning, TWO had his two-week checkup so I went ahead and scheduled ONE for his three-year checkup as well. There was a torrential downpour, and I got soaking wet, ONE was being difficult, I had been up since 4 a.m. and somehow I was still running late, and I was basically a total stress case. 

On the drive back home, I officially ran out of patience and had a “lunatic moment” that involved yelling and swerving the car while trying to swat at ONE’s legs. It was not my finest hour. In retrospect, I should have just pulled the car over. Next time I will.

Here is the text conversation I had with Husband afterward:

Me: Your mom witnessed me act like a lunatic today. ONE is pushing my buttons. I should have pulled the car over and beat his ass. Instead I put us all in danger by trying to spank his leg while driving. I hate being like this.

Husband: (silence)

Me: I feel like a terrible mother.

Husband: You’re a good mother.

Me: Okay then, I feel like a lunatic. 

Husband: (silence) 

I take his silence to mean, yes, I am exhibiting lunatic-like behavior. But at least I’m not a terrible mother.

ONE getting his eyes checked.