I can’t believe how long it’s been since I last sat down and took the time to type out some of my thoughts. Journaling is kind of a therapy for me, but ends up taking too long and getting way too messy and illegible on paper. And after all this time… where do I begin?
Well… I’ll cut to the quick: adjusting to life with two kids is harder than I expected. Let’s just say I haven’t adjusted. And I wonder if I ever will. I welcome any and all suggestions from those who are and have been there, because most days I feel like I’m gonna go crazy. (pause) Too late… “crazier.”
One of my friends recently sent me a card, and at the end she wrote, “isn’t it easier the second time around?” Now I’m really worried – it’s supposed to be easier? Sure, I know most of the baby stuff – although boy diaper changes are another thing entirely – but dealing with a Terrible-Two-year-old (you could take that either way, seriously) at the same time seems an impossible feat.
The other night, Phil asked how my day had gone, as he usually does. I usually apologize first, because I know the complaints will follow – but he asked! I often feel like a broken record, regaling him with stories of Gwendolyn’s myriad of requests (to which the answer is usually “no,” unless I’m so beaten down I don’t have the heart to argue), various tantrums and outbursts, refusal to acquiesce to diaper changes even when poop is leaking out of her pants, throwing toys and stomping her feet in frustration, spitting out her food and asking for snacks instead, trying to smother her baby brother… and that’s just the start. Anyhoo… so I told Phil how my day had gone. Close to tears (as is usually the case these days), I manage to tell him that I know I want/wanted kids, but sometimes I feel like God’s just laughing at me, like, “you asked for it!”
Let me say this: I am SO THANKFUL for my children. I specifically prayed for them, they are one of the biggest blessings of my life, and I know that sometimes when you’re in the thick of it you can’t see the forest for the trees (is that the right expression?)… but there are days when I really don’t want to be a mommy. Phil can leave his work at work and come home, but I’m on serious overtime here.
I never feel productive, and the things I do around the house are things that are never really done – vacuuming, laundry, making meals and washing dishes. Nothing ever stays done! Within the next few hours, the floor is dirty again and toys and books and things are strewn all over the house again and a few spit-ups and poopy diapers and changing the sheets and it’s time to do laundry again and nevermind all the preparation for meals and cleaning up and washing dishes (though of course no time to prepare my own healthy meals) again and again and again. And again. And… is it that time again? I thought I just did that but… no, I must be mistaken.
Is it normal to feel like a bad mommy, a bad person, ALL the time? I don’t get much sleep at night, I have almost no patience or tolerance during the day, and end up snapping at Gwen and resorting to slapping her when she disobeys. I suppose it helps that I know I don’t want to be this way, because if I really were a Bad Person I just wouldn’t care, right? (pause) RIGHT?
Anyway… Josiah is a cutie who is on the cusp of smiling. He’s given me a couple smiles that I’m certain were genuine, but not long or consistent enough to catch on camera. And lately when I think he’s smiling, it precedes [yet another] spit-up and fussing most likly due to gassiness. Note: that Gripe Water doesn’t seem to be working. Next question: Mylicon or Little Tummys? When Gwen isn’t trying to crush him or smother him or yank his arm out, she seems to dote on him. She tries to give him hugs, talks about her “baby brudder” and “baby sa,” hands him toys and even tries to feed him (yup – had to pick broccoli out of his mouth).
Speaking of overtime… baby’s crying. Sometimes it’s so hard not to cry along with him…