It's been one of those days. No, not the kind where everything goes wrong and you can't figure out how to get back on track, although we've had several of those around here too. It's been one of those days where even though you didn't have much on the docket, you feel tired and behind and like if your two year old nails you in the boob with her knee ONE MORE TIME you might just lose your ever-loving mind (and make the local headlines Local Mother Gets Medieval on Child's Butt). I am flat out overwhelmed, exhausted, and I'll admit it, depressed.
I think every young mom goes through periods where she feels like she is going crazy and I am deep in that feeling right now. Between having to move a few weeks after Matthias was born and still trying to let the last of the moving dust settle, a baby who doesn't take naps (I mean seriously!!!), a toddler that is into everything, and frankly, a whole lot of rogue hormones going wild inside me I really feel like I'm losing my mind. Don't get me wrong, I love being a stay at home mom (and I'm good at it too). But I hit a moment this evening where I thought to myself (as I nursed the baby and Abigail climbed back and forth across the couch via my back), if one more hand gets stuck in my hair or one more thing so much as TOUCHES me, I'm handing the kids to Jeremy and going to the nearest coffee shop BY MYSELF. I mean really, how many times do I have to tell Abby "legs are strong and you don't have good control of them, so stop kicking" or "Use the baby's shoulders to move him, not his head" or "stop hitting your brother" or "Please go around my legs, don't climb on top of me while I'm nursing." (by the way, I've said all of those in the last 20 minutes.) Sheesh.
There is a mountain of 4 loads of laundry waiting to be conquered on the bed. ("stop, don't throw that stick at your brother!") Dinner isn't started. The house is in such a state I don't know how I'm going to dig myself out. I vacuumed today. I vacuumed while both my kids screamed bloody murder. ("I said STOP poking him with the stick.") Matthias was already upset and Abby goes ballistic whenever I run the vacuum. Her terror further increasing Matthias's tears. Also, the dog got panicky (just to add a little more chaos). Then I remembered, this is why I can never ever vacuum without backup. ("Whoa, get up! You can't put all your weight on him like that!")
I feel like I should be able to handle this. I should at least be able to get ONE thing done a day. It shouldn't take me 2 weeks to fold the laundry (while load after endless load builds up)! ("I know you're hungry. Please stop whining and ask me nicely.") The bathroom shouldn't be growing pink mildew by the time I get around to smearing a sponge around the sink. I feel like I'm barely coping and I'm not even accomplishing anything. Ok, that's not strictly true, I'm mothering. Which is no small task. My children are in one piece (that is the bare minimum, after all), they are fed, and most importantly, they know that they are loved. But it sure would be nice to have the dishes done or have clean, folded clothes in our drawers (I can hardly even imagine).
Excuse me now while I feed my children (again), give baths, put on their pj's, find their blankets that they can't sleep without, make sure teeth get brushed, bounce, rock, burp, nurse, kiss, clean up spit up, disentangle fingers from my hair, nurse, beg the baby to go to sleep, tip toe out of his bedroom, (nope, he's crying again), bounce, burp, rock, tip toe, sigh....
Ok, I'm back. And it's worth mentioning that, while the above sentence only took seconds to read, it actually took about 2 hours to live. All this is too say I'm pooped and I'm discouraged and sometimes I feel guilty for feeling pooped and discouraged. I mean, this is precious time with these little ones. But seriously, this is insane! How can such a short period of time take so looooooong? I'm so grateful for my mom who encourages me when I call her to meltdown and rejoices with me over every little thing that my little ones are learning and doing and sympathizes with me when things just don't seem to be working out at all. I'm so grateful for her telling me that what I feel is normal (even if I'm not convinced that's true) and that these pre-school years are some of the hardest I'll push through. And I'm thankful for her conversation that gives me a window to the outside world beyond the four walls of this house and reminds me that other people live lives, some normal, some crazy, and that this season will give way to a new one.
And Jeremy, since I know you are one of the only people who reads this, I just want you to know I'm grateful to you too. And I love you. And thanks for dealing with the crazy!
I think every young mom goes through periods where she feels like she is going crazy and I am deep in that feeling right now. Between having to move a few weeks after Matthias was born and still trying to let the last of the moving dust settle, a baby who doesn't take naps (I mean seriously!!!), a toddler that is into everything, and frankly, a whole lot of rogue hormones going wild inside me I really feel like I'm losing my mind. Don't get me wrong, I love being a stay at home mom (and I'm good at it too). But I hit a moment this evening where I thought to myself (as I nursed the baby and Abigail climbed back and forth across the couch via my back), if one more hand gets stuck in my hair or one more thing so much as TOUCHES me, I'm handing the kids to Jeremy and going to the nearest coffee shop BY MYSELF. I mean really, how many times do I have to tell Abby "legs are strong and you don't have good control of them, so stop kicking" or "Use the baby's shoulders to move him, not his head" or "stop hitting your brother" or "Please go around my legs, don't climb on top of me while I'm nursing." (by the way, I've said all of those in the last 20 minutes.) Sheesh.
There is a mountain of 4 loads of laundry waiting to be conquered on the bed. ("stop, don't throw that stick at your brother!") Dinner isn't started. The house is in such a state I don't know how I'm going to dig myself out. I vacuumed today. I vacuumed while both my kids screamed bloody murder. ("I said STOP poking him with the stick.") Matthias was already upset and Abby goes ballistic whenever I run the vacuum. Her terror further increasing Matthias's tears. Also, the dog got panicky (just to add a little more chaos). Then I remembered, this is why I can never ever vacuum without backup. ("Whoa, get up! You can't put all your weight on him like that!")
I feel like I should be able to handle this. I should at least be able to get ONE thing done a day. It shouldn't take me 2 weeks to fold the laundry (while load after endless load builds up)! ("I know you're hungry. Please stop whining and ask me nicely.") The bathroom shouldn't be growing pink mildew by the time I get around to smearing a sponge around the sink. I feel like I'm barely coping and I'm not even accomplishing anything. Ok, that's not strictly true, I'm mothering. Which is no small task. My children are in one piece (that is the bare minimum, after all), they are fed, and most importantly, they know that they are loved. But it sure would be nice to have the dishes done or have clean, folded clothes in our drawers (I can hardly even imagine).
Excuse me now while I feed my children (again), give baths, put on their pj's, find their blankets that they can't sleep without, make sure teeth get brushed, bounce, rock, burp, nurse, kiss, clean up spit up, disentangle fingers from my hair, nurse, beg the baby to go to sleep, tip toe out of his bedroom, (nope, he's crying again), bounce, burp, rock, tip toe, sigh....
Ok, I'm back. And it's worth mentioning that, while the above sentence only took seconds to read, it actually took about 2 hours to live. All this is too say I'm pooped and I'm discouraged and sometimes I feel guilty for feeling pooped and discouraged. I mean, this is precious time with these little ones. But seriously, this is insane! How can such a short period of time take so looooooong? I'm so grateful for my mom who encourages me when I call her to meltdown and rejoices with me over every little thing that my little ones are learning and doing and sympathizes with me when things just don't seem to be working out at all. I'm so grateful for her telling me that what I feel is normal (even if I'm not convinced that's true) and that these pre-school years are some of the hardest I'll push through. And I'm thankful for her conversation that gives me a window to the outside world beyond the four walls of this house and reminds me that other people live lives, some normal, some crazy, and that this season will give way to a new one.
And Jeremy, since I know you are one of the only people who reads this, I just want you to know I'm grateful to you too. And I love you. And thanks for dealing with the crazy!
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