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

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.

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.

Please ignore the horrendous wallpaper. It’s on my list of things to re-do.

After many failed attempts …

We did it. 

Moby Wrap: conquered.

Today I taught my son how to pee in the yard. 

I felt really … ill-equipped … for that task. However, in the words of Tim Gunn from Project Runway, we made it work. He stripped naked, I screeched at him DON’T GET IT ON YOUR FEET!!!, so he spread his feet apart and assumed a sumo wrestler-like position.

Then I had to show him how to point and shoot. This is when I really started to wish that his daddy was home.

We are on Day 13 and it’s been rough going over here. TWO has horrible colic, and I am hanging by a thread. We are working to find a solution, but until we find the right formula … 

I am hanging by a thread. 

Did I already say that?

I have been sleeping in 3-hour stretches. The rest of my time seems to be spent holding TWO and trying to soothe his inconsolable crying, or telling ONE to stop doing such-and-such. Today I didn’t brush my teeth or eat anything until well after noon. During one of TWO’s crazy crying spells, I tried to put on the Moby Wrap and failed miserably. Harmony + Moby Wrap + Screaming Infant = EPIC FAIL. 

When my mother-in-law returned from taking ONE on an outing, I had to get out of the house. It’s amazing what a shower, some makeup, and a trip to Starbucks can do for a girl. I went to the baby store, bought an infant carrier that you slip on and snap, listened to Maroon Five and FELT LIKE A NORMAL PERSON.

Thank goodness for mother-in-laws and mothers. I would have definitely lost my mind by now without their help. I know it will get better. Until then, I am clinging to the little things that remind me that while I am now a mother of two, I am also a real person. Neglecting that fact would spell disaster for us all.

TWO is colicky.

Is this my penance for giving up on breastfeeding at day 5?

Pass the wine, please.

Three years ago I gave birth to ONE and our lives changed forever.

On his 3rd birthday, tired of posing for pictures.

I thought I wanted a girl. 

The thought of having a boy totally freaked me out, until he was handed to me and everything clicked into place. Suddenly I couldn’t imagine him being any different than he was.

He was perfect.

He looks like me. A boy version. Sometimes he also looks like his daddy, like when he is deep in thought, or when he’s sleeping.

ONE is lively and loud and so much fun. I never realized that little kids were fun, really. Goes to show how much I knew about children before I had one of my own.

He loves people and music and is curious about everything. I am honored to be his mother, and have the privilege of teaching him about the world.

Happy birthday, ONE. Thank you for making me a better human being every day.