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.
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| 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.
I am probably going to catch a lot of crap for this one.
Read it here!
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.
Let’s go ahead and file this under “things my husband will never understand.”
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.
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| ONE getting his eyes checked. |
Oh man.
A friend recently texted me to check out this website immediately (www.surisburnbook.tumblr.com), and so I did. For anyone who has odd blocks of time on their hands and needs a distraction from real life, I strongly suggest you take a gander.
It also helps if you are one of those people who enjoy pop culture, and like to laugh at the expense of others.
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.
Yesterday, a terrible thing happened.
Let me preface this by saying that I am struggling to adjust to summer break. Struggling. Like … it’s good? But also horrible? Can something be good and horrible all at once? Because I’m pretty sure that is exactly what parenthood is.
Making the transition from having all three kids in school for 6+ hours per day (and working during those hours), to having them home all the time and trying to get my work done in addition to mothering in a loving fashion, is not going great. As I have already established in multiple blog posts from previous years, summer is effing relentless.
Pepper is obsessed with two things: outlets and babies. Here she is showing her baby doll the outlet in her bedroom. #multitasking
Thankfully, this year is somewhat easier than previous years simply because my children are getting older and more independent. Pepper will be 3 next week, so I think we’re finally on the upswing after a very dark time in the Valley of Motherhood.
Yesterday afternoon, we got home from playing at the park. The boys jumped out of the van, heard some kids next door playing, and asked if they could go over to play. I granted them permission and took Pepper inside. Her clothes were filthy — covered in layers of peanut butter and dirt — so I stripped her down to a diaper.
I ran to the bathroom with her trailing behind me, always my little shadow. And then, my mom called. She’s not feeling well and I can barely hear her on the phone. I was straining to understand what she was saying — did she just say she needed to go to the hospital?! — and naturally, my toddler got really loud at exactly that moment. As her shouting drowned out my mother, my stress level started to rise.
I went to my bedroom and closed the door. My daughter cried from the hall, and when she stopped, I was thankful. When I emerged only a few minutes later, the house was quiet. A panicky feeling started to rise in my chest, and then it felt like my heart stopped.
Just.
Stopped.
Beating.
Our back door was standing wide open.
Screaming her name, I ran outside. She was gone. Or hiding. Or missing.
I heard a woman’s voice — our across the street neighbor — yelling at me that she just saw a little girl cut through the fences in the backyard.
“She went that way, sweetheart! I was standing here watching her!”
I was barefoot and it did not matter. I ran. I ran until I found her. I couldn’t feel my feet. I couldn’t feel my body. All I could hear was my own voice screaming her name, and my heartbeat deafening my ears. That is what blind panic feels like.
My 2-year-old was wandering one street over from ours, wearing nothing but her diaper. She was holding a toy pet carrier with a little stuffed dog inside. I will never forget the way her face looked when she saw the horror on mine.
“NEVER AGAIN,” I said to her.
“Not with my dog?” she said.
“NEVER, EVER. Do not ever leave this house without a grown up,” I said, as I wiped away my tears.
I’m sharing this story to demonstrate how quickly children can disappear. How many times have I heard stories of toddlers wandering the streets and thought to myself, WHERE WAS THE MOTHER?
That mother is me. I was right there. It happened anyway.
I’m a damn good mom. I am capable. I am aware. I am not negligent. But children are fast. And sometimes quiet. And things happen. So today I’m hugging my babies tight, grateful for their safety, knowing that sometimes other mamas aren’t so lucky.
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Modern Mommy Madness 