Photo Credit: ID 35130752 © Ivonne Wierink | Dreamstime.com
I am writing this post with blood shot eyes. Sleep is a rarity around here. I beg for it, only to be tortured with small doses of it. I'm forced to endure the demands of two impatient but beautiful little beings. One who screams out one word demands ("Juice", "Ball", "Pizza"). The other just cries and drools on himself.
If you have not guessed, the picture I'm painting above is my new reality. I am currently back on maternity leave, answering to the demands of a wild, impatient 2.5 year old, and a fussy, non stop nursing 9 week old. Its a new life I'm settling into. It's different, crazy, and has me wondering how mothers of three or more children do it.
When there was one, it was scary at first (because I really didn't know what the fuck I was doing), but quickly became the norm. I learned so much from my first son, that soon it became so easy. He was an extension of me. Where ever I went, he went. I quickly forgot what it was like to not have children at all. He was my sidekick, and I basked in every moment. I became confident in the mother I was becoming; So confident that I suggested to my husband over coffee one morning, "Let's try for another one".
And here we are, 9 weeks in with two little boys. I'm going to sum up how it's going with the story of a Monday morning gone wrong:
The Shitastic Monday
I could hear my little 8 week old half cooing, half crying next to me. I rubbed my half baked looking eye balls and looked at the clock......7:02 am.
He just ate two hours ago, I think to my self. Will this kid ever get off my tit?
I pick him up, and am about to make myself comfortable on the couch, when I hear my toddler calling from his room.
"Mom!, Mom!, Poo!"
First of all, why is he up so early....he usually doesn't wake until 8:30.
Second of all, did he just say Poo?
I put Forrest (the infant) down on his play mat so I can go quickly fetch Marshall (the toddler) . As soon as I pick him up he feels wet. Did his stupid diaper not hold up during the night? I throw him on the couch, take off his pants only to find shit,,,,,,,,,,,, every where. All up his leg. Up his back, and now on my couch and all over me.
"Poo!" Marshall tells me.
Yeah, I can fucking see that kid, I think to myself, but instead say in the most sing song voice I can muster "Oh no buddy, what happened"!?
"Poo!" He chants again.
Now Forrest is crying because he's hungry and never stops eating.
Time for this bitch to pull up her overly large maternity underwear and morph into serious mom mode.
I throw the baby in the swing, while running the shit covered toddler to the bath.
"Poo!" Marshall lets me know again.
Once he is happily emerged in a bubble bath, I wash myself down, grab Forrest, throw him on my leaking breast, and nurse him sitting on the toilet seat while watching my 2.5 year old enjoy his early morning suds.
I handle two kids, like a boss.
P.s, Sorry about the blogging absence! I had some shit I need to take care of, but now I'm back!