[Y'all know I love my kids right?]
Today
feels like one of those days where my whole life revolves around my children’s
sleep. We are either tiring them out so that they will sleep, waiting for them
to f-ing fall asleep or dealing with getting them back to sleep! I am sure
there is more to life that this, but since sleep has gone kind of pear shaped
of late, I am too tired to notice. As people without kids rightfully say,
though not without sympathy, we did ask for it. No one claims kids are easy,
especially not babies and two year olds, nor both at once! A friend of mine and
I were hanging out at the library swapping war stories about it all and she has
three under 4! Another friend at the park said her boys (aged .75 and 3) both woke
up last night at 3am and her husband was away. It’s a shit-show. And the
righteous all lay claim to what we are doing wrong, including ourselves. It
would be so nice to be able to focus on all the things we are doing correctly but right now I need to go upstairs and tell a toddler that he needs to stop farting
around and SLEEP. He screamed for 2 hours last night (in 10 minute intervals)
and was then up for an hour in the night. If any kid needs to nap it’s him. Why
doesn’t reason work on these mini-humans? Are they in fact cave men?
Ooga-booga, beddy by! ARGH! I want to think about something else for a change!
And I bet you want to read about something else!
NB:
As a point of historical accuracy: my recent visit to Ben’s room during the interminable nap-falling-asleep-period produced a fervent odor upon opening the
door, and a very needed, beet-induced diaper change. Fair enough little buddy,
fair enough.
Well
it begs the question, who and how am I? Luckily I am pumped full of
delicious, habit-forming oxytocin from all the breast-feeding. Oh sweet Mama, that shit is good. I am also currently child-free as both boys nap and I
type, listening to the sweet voice of Coeur de Pirate (her music represents
calm and freedom to me). I have made a sister-pledge with above mom of three to
join a yoga class starting in two weeks. I seriously need to stretch something
other than my capacity to make supper out of discordantly weird ingredients
(kohlrabi, peanut butter and apricots anyone?) while navigating a gloriously
messy construction site of dry pasta, bowls and plastic diggers on the counter
and a bouncy, decibel-defying pterodactyl in the neglect-a-saucer! My body is
healing along, ready to leap ahead to? Well trampolines are still out (ladies:
wink wink). But who am I beyond being a parent? I feel locked into a kind of
soft servitude, duty my new prerogative, paid in delicious baby smiley and
precious boy hugs (heaven knows it doesn’t pay the bills…). Sometimes the agony
of it all leaks out into me weeping my way to another daycare pick up with a
sad baby in the back. Other days I have just a teensy glimpse of perspective, a
notion of the fierce, creative woman I am, of the Me beyond little Yous. Of the
outside world. Of… well, whatever is beyond the pre-sucked on, cat-hairy pasta
pieces in each earthly crevice within my realm. Feel free to let me know (while
you hold my baby and cook me dinner and)…
E
It's never easy but it does get better!! Hang in there! Dominic went through a nap strike when we brought Elliott home. And somehow 2 year olds do that, but go right back to their regularily schedules programming with your consistency. This too, shall pass. And some blissful day you'll get to remember what a solid week of sleeping through the night looks like. xx h
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