accurate pictorial of our days:
*trying to explain that the physics of wrapping my large skirt around her teeny wrist do not work and do not a pretty bracelet make. Rough little toddler life.
*Sebastian is just content to be held and semi-clothed
*mom wearing maternity leggings for the fourth day in a row
*fuzzy. always fuzzy.
I almost went with, "I Will Survive" for the title but that would be too optimistic. I had to go the ironic route instead. We are 1.5 weeks into a 4 week rotation in which Simon is gone 2/3 of the day and the 1/3 that he is home .. he absolutely must be sleeping, showering, eating, or running out the door back to the laboring ladies. I know ... woe is me. Not woe is the man working the crazytown hours.
So ... blah blah ... he works a lot ... blah. I know things could be worse and I know I should look for the silver lining because it is certainly there to be found (potential parent of the year nom? no. new found deeeeep appreciation for adult interaction? yes, yes, and yes.) but I don't.
Instead, I've been moving one step forward and two steps back in the housework, patience, and personal appearance realms. Armed with a broom and baby wipes, I'm in a constant war with Julia's breakfast, snack, lunch, snack, dinner, snack, dessert, snack leftovers strewn about the house. Julia is put in her timeout spot more frequently every day for bopping Sebastian over the head. And while I was filling out paperwork at a recent appointment, I was asked if I worked outside the home with a tone that makes me fairly certain the kind gentleman had already clicked, "no!!!!' using my momfit (ill-fitting jeans, sweater over turtleneck and one pearl in left ear) and mom scent (casserole of spit up, toddler breath and a perfume mask) as telling indicators.
Some of the more precious momes:
I decided to take Julia and Sebastian out to the backyard to enjoy the balmy temperature yesterday afternoon while Simon slept off the night of work (including the unbelievable amount of potent incense that one interesting patient and her doula had left lingering on his person). Of course Julia immediately dug through the recycling (cans: not too safe ... not too boring) and then wanted to scale the stairs ("sears! sears! sears!"). Feeling generous, I let her climb while I followed behind with Sebastian. And of course she fell backwards at the tippy top and I caught her at the price of dropping all but Sebastian's right foot. I'm still trying to find my heart as it immediately leapt out of my chest and pounded away at record speed.
While I was in the kitchen this morning, probably being especially domestic, Julia traipsed in and circled my legs as she usually does at 6:07. After her 100th grunt I finally looked down to see what the ish was. No, no, no, no ... please no. Is that a liquid trail of poorly digested dairy tears allllll over the floor? Oh ... her socks are saturated too? How on God's greenest earth did it get all the way up to her shoulders? So, I suppose the answer is yes, she is still highly sensitive to dairy and that bite of yogurt this morning was a huge mistake and I shouldn't even let her look in the general vicinity of the refrigerator that houses many ounces of the poison. Praise all things good and holy for Kirkland Disinfecting Household Surface Wipes.
Last night when I put Julia down to bed I shut off the light, closed the door and went on my merry way. I picked up the remnants of tornado Julia, checked my email and brushed my teeth before I made Sebastian a bottle. When I went to get him to begin his marathon bedtime routine and didn't see him in either of his usual haunts ... the floor and the swing ... I panicked. Early and spontaneous crawler? No ... I had left him in Julia's room on the changing table. Good thing he knew to keep his mouth shut and his flailing body glued to the table or else we may have had some mayhem on the loose. Melodramatic? Never.
Fine. Just three little moments. And of course, in retrospect, they aren't as scary, exasperating or near night ruining as I felt they were at the scenes of the crimes. These weeks will pass. The season is temporary. February will save me ... if I'm not dead by way of adult conversation deficiency or dairy intolerant waste inhalation.
Thanks for reading/skimming. Your sharing in my ridiculously tame woes makes me feel better already.
Instead, I've been moving one step forward and two steps back in the housework, patience, and personal appearance realms. Armed with a broom and baby wipes, I'm in a constant war with Julia's breakfast, snack, lunch, snack, dinner, snack, dessert, snack leftovers strewn about the house. Julia is put in her timeout spot more frequently every day for bopping Sebastian over the head. And while I was filling out paperwork at a recent appointment, I was asked if I worked outside the home with a tone that makes me fairly certain the kind gentleman had already clicked, "no!!!!' using my momfit (ill-fitting jeans, sweater over turtleneck and one pearl in left ear) and mom scent (casserole of spit up, toddler breath and a perfume mask) as telling indicators.
Some of the more precious momes:
I decided to take Julia and Sebastian out to the backyard to enjoy the balmy temperature yesterday afternoon while Simon slept off the night of work (including the unbelievable amount of potent incense that one interesting patient and her doula had left lingering on his person). Of course Julia immediately dug through the recycling (cans: not too safe ... not too boring) and then wanted to scale the stairs ("sears! sears! sears!"). Feeling generous, I let her climb while I followed behind with Sebastian. And of course she fell backwards at the tippy top and I caught her at the price of dropping all but Sebastian's right foot. I'm still trying to find my heart as it immediately leapt out of my chest and pounded away at record speed.
While I was in the kitchen this morning, probably being especially domestic, Julia traipsed in and circled my legs as she usually does at 6:07. After her 100th grunt I finally looked down to see what the ish was. No, no, no, no ... please no. Is that a liquid trail of poorly digested dairy tears allllll over the floor? Oh ... her socks are saturated too? How on God's greenest earth did it get all the way up to her shoulders? So, I suppose the answer is yes, she is still highly sensitive to dairy and that bite of yogurt this morning was a huge mistake and I shouldn't even let her look in the general vicinity of the refrigerator that houses many ounces of the poison. Praise all things good and holy for Kirkland Disinfecting Household Surface Wipes.
Last night when I put Julia down to bed I shut off the light, closed the door and went on my merry way. I picked up the remnants of tornado Julia, checked my email and brushed my teeth before I made Sebastian a bottle. When I went to get him to begin his marathon bedtime routine and didn't see him in either of his usual haunts ... the floor and the swing ... I panicked. Early and spontaneous crawler? No ... I had left him in Julia's room on the changing table. Good thing he knew to keep his mouth shut and his flailing body glued to the table or else we may have had some mayhem on the loose. Melodramatic? Never.
Fine. Just three little moments. And of course, in retrospect, they aren't as scary, exasperating or near night ruining as I felt they were at the scenes of the crimes. These weeks will pass. The season is temporary. February will save me ... if I'm not dead by way of adult conversation deficiency or dairy intolerant waste inhalation.
Thanks for reading/skimming. Your sharing in my ridiculously tame woes makes me feel better already.
There is no "little" when it comes to adjusting to a new member to your family. It's not easy, you have wild hormonal fluctuations the likes of which make puberty seem tame, and many, many of us are lacking the family/community support system enjoyed by so many women throughout space and time.
ReplyDeleteSo we do what we can- we cobble together a community as best we can, and we throw ourselves on God's mercy about 5 million times a day. And since God is all good all the time, we have hope that He'll see us through.
Now please remind me of this little pep talk in 4 months, ok?
I was just at my parent's house last weekend and was so caught up in conversation that when someone asked where the baby was, I had NO IDEA. Couldn't even tell you where I saw him last. Needless to say, I ran around in a panic until I found him happily playing upstairs in my sister's closet. I swear that boy is going to be a spy or a Navy seal or something! :)
ReplyDeleteGrace, You are amazing! I wish I lived close to you, so I could bring over a bottle of wine and hang out with you and the kiddies!
ReplyDeletePS. The new Camp Patton looks amazing!! You blog is my favorite ever, and you inspire me.
So maybe you shouldn't complain about Simon's schedule, but feeling like a mostly-single mom is tough no matter which way you look at it. I'm lucky to have my dearest home at 5 on most work nights, but the days he works late get loooong. (And then, I try to remind myself that no matter how late he works, he started his day approximately 4 hours before me. Eep.)
ReplyDeleteBTW, love the new look!
ReplyDeleteFirst off, LOVE the new design! I get really excited about that sort of stuff...eh em.. Anywho, sounds like things in your neck of the woods are as fun as they are around her. Meaning, I just tried to go to the bathroom, heard a loud thud, and came downstairs to an ENTIRE pitcher of orange juice all over the kitchen floor...
ReplyDeleteWhat was that about this passing? I may have to go back and re-read..lol.
My heart is racing from just reading about the falling on the stairs story. Eek!
ReplyDeleteIt is rough having a mostly absent husband with two little ones... When my husband was deployed I had a 1 yr & 3 yr and was in my first trimester. Worst day ever includes a newly bathed 18 month old wandering into bathroom singing "it's chocolate, it's chocolate". 3 year old screams "no it's poop!". She takes one look at her brothers smeared face and hand and vomits... On me. I then get a wave of nausea and toss my cookies. Worst day. I just leaned on the toilet and cried, but we survived with hardly any permanent damage from the deployment! Kidding! Hang in there!
ReplyDeleteoh no. i shed tears during this post. grace this is TOO MUCH. your writing makes me roll. i'm so proud of you and your blog. really am.
ReplyDeletethis is horrid, but only bc I've been there, more than once. simon's schedule sucks little monkey nuts, I say that bc again, I've been there, living that dream right now or some variation of it (70+ hours AND grad school...)
ReplyDeletekeep it up momma, you're AMAZING!!
Any day now Julia is gonna make this huge LEAP in playing ability. Like, she's gonna understand toys, not just bang them around. It's gonna be the coolest thing ever. AND you'll be able to distract her longer with them, cause she'll know what they do. LE made the leap about 2 weeks ago, like a flipped switch. It's very very cool. And it'll all get easier.
ReplyDeleteOh sweet mama, Im so so sorry. You are doing an amazing job, really. Im very impressed by you!
ReplyDeleteI love the detail you put into your everyday adventures. Helps me imagine what life will be like when my #2 comes in a month!
ReplyDeletei don't know how you do it! seriously, i don't. i thought it was tough with my first two a year and half apart...wish i lived closer so i could give you a break. chris is home most nights by 5:30pm and even that seems like forever.
ReplyDeleteOh mama. Oh mama. I feel you--well, not really, as I only have one crazy monster, but I can imagine, and it hurts.
ReplyDeleteBut it's kinda funny, too. At least you see the humor, even when it's some pretty dark funny stuff.
And that picture of your dead-tired doctor fast asleep with your squishy littlest man? Unbelievably awesome.
Just get to February with a chuckle and an ENORMOUS roll of paper towels... I just laughed my way all the way through the documentation of your misery... Keep up the feigned sanity!
ReplyDeleteLove your blog and love your honesty! I can't go the time to write a blog. I attempted once but i failed miserably. Keep it up mama - the days are long but the weeks are short.
ReplyDeleteDamn autocorrect. I can't find the time...
ReplyDeleteOh Grace...you poor thing! In all honesty, you will look back (as you probably already do) and just laugh. Laugh or cry or both..because even though life was/is tough sometimes, you made it out alive. Your kids made it out...and they are just as wonderful as they have always been. Life moves on...and you just keep adding notches to your mama belt. That's how the mothers we know (our mothers, our grandmothers) are so great. They had the time and the experience. You know, If we lived closer...oh the stories I could tell you of what goes on over here :) You.have.no.idea.
ReplyDeleteFrom a total stranger, I think you are doing awesome...for what it's worth. Your kids are lucky to have you.
God bless you!
Grace, I have sons who are 12.5 months apart so I have been there. I also had a four year old then and life was hard hard hard. Honestly? I can barely remember those years--it's all a blur. Those boys are almost 17 and 18 now--it goes by SO FAST! Which is not in any way meant to suggest that you ought to be enjoying every minute because it's not all fun and games. My husband was in law school/just starting to practice back in those days so he was not around a lot either. Do you have a group of mom friends to hang out with? The moms' group from my church was a life saver back in the day!
ReplyDeleteYou know, I often think of how amazing it is that our boys lived through babyness/toddlerness. And I often think of how scary/crazy we are to try it all again.
ReplyDeleteIt's a miracle anyone lives past 1 month really. Seriously we all must have a boatload of gardian angels.
Let's just pretend I am brave and not crazy to attempt numero 3.