I Might Not Make It
Glam on point? Check.
I know, you've heard it like a quadrillion times: parenting is hard. It's hard as eff. And I'm going to tell you why I'm not going to survive this. Because yes, I am looking for sympathy and pats on the back. I need that sometimes.
The night shift is going to kill me. I'm convinced I'm going to die a few years earlier because of lack of sleep. And not like the "oh man, I stayed up late last night" kind of lack of sleep. I mean years of chronic sleep deprivation. The kind that you can not catch up on. The kind that kinda makes you want to vomit in the morning, that makes your eyes ache and blurs your mind. Every part of my face is puffy and my head is heavy. This is the kind of deprivation that brings on anxiety, depression, anger and lapses in critical thinking. It is supposedly equivalent to driving under the influence.
It's been going on for three years.
[Also, can we put in a side note here? I can promise you I will not miss this phase of not-sleeping-through-the-night. Will I miss holding a peaceful, sleeping baby? Yes. Will I miss snuggling the heavy warmth of a baby gently breathing? Yes. I can do that during the day. Will I miss getting out of a warm bed at night over and over again to console someone screaming or to simply replace a pacifier, then feeling like I'm on the verge of crying and screaming all day? Absolutely not.]
Husband always says "Why don't you go to bed earlier?" Because I am so anxious of the night. Because what is the point? Because being jolted from a deep sleep (again) is harder than simply getting up from watching television. Because the anxiety of thinking about the anxiety that is nighttime is keeping me from falling asleep. Because sweating all night with a pounding heart is not fun. Because night shift.
Then comes day shift. And trying to smile in between tears in my cereal, because I am that worn down. Trying to be patient with two toddlers when I just want to sit down for just a moment. Allowing hugs and kisses and sitting-in-laps even though my skin is crawling and doesn't want to be touched. Reading book after book when my tongue feels like lead.
But I am a badass. And I keep going. And I want to do all those things during the day, even though I don't want to do anything. I'm a walking paradox.
Night Shift...And Day Shift
When I was a working mother, I thought "Well, at least stay-at-home moms get to stay home after a long night of nocturnal babies." Stay At Home Me thinks "I'd give anything to get away and talk to adults after a long night of nocturnal babies." You win some, you lose some. Well, maybe you just lose some no matter what. I'm not sure which Me wins in that situation.The night shift is going to kill me. I'm convinced I'm going to die a few years earlier because of lack of sleep. And not like the "oh man, I stayed up late last night" kind of lack of sleep. I mean years of chronic sleep deprivation. The kind that you can not catch up on. The kind that kinda makes you want to vomit in the morning, that makes your eyes ache and blurs your mind. Every part of my face is puffy and my head is heavy. This is the kind of deprivation that brings on anxiety, depression, anger and lapses in critical thinking. It is supposedly equivalent to driving under the influence.
It's been going on for three years.
[Also, can we put in a side note here? I can promise you I will not miss this phase of not-sleeping-through-the-night. Will I miss holding a peaceful, sleeping baby? Yes. Will I miss snuggling the heavy warmth of a baby gently breathing? Yes. I can do that during the day. Will I miss getting out of a warm bed at night over and over again to console someone screaming or to simply replace a pacifier, then feeling like I'm on the verge of crying and screaming all day? Absolutely not.]
Husband always says "Why don't you go to bed earlier?" Because I am so anxious of the night. Because what is the point? Because being jolted from a deep sleep (again) is harder than simply getting up from watching television. Because the anxiety of thinking about the anxiety that is nighttime is keeping me from falling asleep. Because sweating all night with a pounding heart is not fun. Because night shift.
Then comes day shift. And trying to smile in between tears in my cereal, because I am that worn down. Trying to be patient with two toddlers when I just want to sit down for just a moment. Allowing hugs and kisses and sitting-in-laps even though my skin is crawling and doesn't want to be touched. Reading book after book when my tongue feels like lead.
But I am a badass. And I keep going. And I want to do all those things during the day, even though I don't want to do anything. I'm a walking paradox.
I think our Christmas photo pretty much sums it up.
Some of My Many Hats
I have a ton of hats on my head everyday. They're so heavy that I'm not going to make it. Let me tell you about two of these hats.One of the hats that I wear is The Rememberer of Things. As Mommy, I have to remember to schedule well-visits and dental appointments (and be the one to take the kids there); where the socks and pants and undies and jammies and shirts and crib sheets and shoes and snow boots and bathing suits and coats are all kept; to bring sippy cups and snacks and a change of clothes and wipes and diapers wherever we go. I need to remember if we are close to being out of children's toothpaste or wipes or diapers or bananas or milk; where children's Tylenol is, how much each kid needs, which kind of teething tabs or gas drops or cough medicine is okay; to bring the Pack N' Play and nap mats and white noise machines and blankets and Bunny and Taggie and bottles on overnight trips.
If I forget something, I am the one that hears "You should have packed an extra pair of socks!" Yes, I should have.
Another hat I wear is The Doer of Things. The washer of kids' laundry, maker of breakfast and lunch and dinner (which, by the way, is thrown on the floor in appreciation), cutter of fingernails and toenails, cleaner of kids' bedroom, feeder of dog and cats and fish, sock and shoe and coat putter-oner, hair brusher, toothbrusher, clothes finder and dresser, diaper changer, playroom cleaner. I'm a bottle washer, milk pourer, sippy cup filler, snack maker, diaper bag packer.
Husband helped clean the playroom! Looks great, and totally safe.
Good thing I love you so much.
Do I always do it all alone? Of course not. Do I usually do it alone? Yep, I'm the one home all day. This is not to say that I am not appreciative of those who help support me. You guys are the reason my survival has made it this far. Thank you to Husband for working so hard, and family members who babysit. But if I could just split myself into a Doer of Things and Fun Mom Stuff Doer, life would be so much easier. I think Fun Mom Stuff Doer would get to do all the tickling and baby-head smelling.
Priorities
I always end up putting my own needs behind the needs of everyone else in a constant unsuccessful attempt at perfection. Once you've done this for long enough, it begins to feel like that's how it is supposed to be, and it begins to be the norm for everyone. It's a terrible way to survive, and I'm not going to make it.I instituted taking turns sleeping in on the weekend with Husband. He can stay in bed and I wake up with kids on Saturday, and I sleep in on Sunday. I look forward to Sunday all week. But one Saturday, it was not my turn and I woke before the sun with Loops. The night before the neighbors had another loud party that pushed the limits of 3:00 in the morning. I'm a very light sleeper and kept confusing their screams for baby cries. Hoops had been sick all week with diarrhea and vomiting, after Loops had been sick with the same for two weeks. (They love taking turns to really prolong the nastiness.) After Hoops woke up, he was spending the morning in various stages of sickness-induced meltdowns. Neither child ate the breakfast that they screamed for and I prepared, but both were crying for snacks less than an hour later...which also went largely uneaten. Hoops begins to cry inconsolably while Loops throws her snacks on the floor for the dog. I attempt to put Hoops down for an early nap.
Shortly later, Husband comes down stairs with a not-sleeping-Hoops. "Can you microwave him a slice of pizza?" Yes, I can (didn't eat breakfast or snack, but sure). "Can you cut it up for him?" YEP. I need to take a shower. "Can't you just put on a hat instead? I want to go out and do something." No, I need to shower like a regular person. "Okay, well, we'll be waiting for you." We'll be waiting for you. Message: my need for basic hygiene [or any type of self-care] is inconvenient to everyone else. Was this message that was being intended? Probably not. Was it what it felt like, what has become the norm? Yes.
This is my fault. Since the beginning I have put myself last and been a control freak, and this has become my mode. This is something I'm working to change; to ask for help when needed, to make time for myself. I don't think I'm alone in putting my needs behind everyone's and feeling like I need things done "my way," I think nearly all mothers are "afraid" to admit it. If I keep putting myself last, I'm not going to make it out of here.
The Chaos
Hoops and Loops are both toddlers, so I'm already on the brink of not making it just on that basis alone. I'm going to let that sink in for a minute. I have two toddlers. I give mad props to anyone who has more than that at home, because you obviously wear a cape everyday. I am not worthy. Loops is 18 months, (a year and a half for those who don't want to do "Motherhood Math") and Hoops is about to turn three. Neither is able to understand the realm outside of their own being; it is a constant storm of screaming, pulling, pushing, biting, hitting, crying, "No!" and "Mine!"
Neither one is empathetic quite yet. I am hoping that eventually that trait will build in them and they won't forever remain sociopaths intent on stealing, harming and screaming. But for now, I'm trapped with two egomaniacs all day long. They simply do not care about anyone else. Oh sure, there are moments of cute kisses and snuggles, but don't let that fool you: that's for them, and their enjoyment, not yours. They can't quite help this, those little crazies.
Toddlers can be so damn cute. They can be so damn trying. And they're my only company all day. Yes, I go to the gym or grocery store, but I'm not exactly having adult conversations while I'm there. "Oh hi, let's discuss world politics, Stranger Friend!" I'm sure they'd look at me like I was as crazy as I actually am. Also, I hope you don't mind having that conversation while I attempt to pull my hand away from my shockingly strong daughter as she tries to lick my fingers. And while my son starts yell-talking about life, the universe and everything. And while I stutter through vaguely pseudo-relevant news tidbits about politics I picked up three years ago.
Assuming I survive this, there is a silver lining to the whole thing.
We're in the same choir, buddy. Don't come preachin' at me.
Neither one is empathetic quite yet. I am hoping that eventually that trait will build in them and they won't forever remain sociopaths intent on stealing, harming and screaming. But for now, I'm trapped with two egomaniacs all day long. They simply do not care about anyone else. Oh sure, there are moments of cute kisses and snuggles, but don't let that fool you: that's for them, and their enjoyment, not yours. They can't quite help this, those little crazies.
Toddlers can be so damn cute. They can be so damn trying. And they're my only company all day. Yes, I go to the gym or grocery store, but I'm not exactly having adult conversations while I'm there. "Oh hi, let's discuss world politics, Stranger Friend!" I'm sure they'd look at me like I was as crazy as I actually am. Also, I hope you don't mind having that conversation while I attempt to pull my hand away from my shockingly strong daughter as she tries to lick my fingers. And while my son starts yell-talking about life, the universe and everything. And while I stutter through vaguely pseudo-relevant news tidbits about politics I picked up three years ago.
Silver Lining
Pretty simple:
Silly Hoops and Super Loops!
They are my everything, my heart and soul, my night and day (literally). This love makes me want to open up my chest and squeeze the children inside so I can hold them there forever. The moments of soft snuggles, the moments of insane toddler giggles which totally beat the baby laughs, the times they just need ME, and watching them grow makes everything melt away, if only for a moment. Just the thought of the love brings tears to my eyes.
To quote Husband:
"I never knew the true depths of love until I had children."
