If you are a single mom out there, you have a shiny new pedestal in my head. And if you're one of those mothers who can handle the brood, while whipping up a yummy dinner that you purchased dirt cheap thanks to your couponing skills, all after a day of blogging wicked cute craft ideas that have since been repinned by a multitude of Pinterest followers.... well, I might just want to kick you in the shins.
It's my first week back at work after having my sweet, second baby boy. Perhaps I shouldn't be blogging/venting during such a transitional period. But it just feels good to get it out there. So here it is.
I'M DROWNING!!!
Not literally, mind you. But my sanity is in a fragile state. You see, by the time I was back to work with my first son, he was already sleep training and on a good nap schedule. I also had a lot of other things together. Like a clean house. Like a work out schedule. Like a schedule period. This go 'round? I wouldn't call it an epic failure... but it sure isn't success. Let's call it chaos. And I don't operate well in chaos.
I stress because Crew's eating every 2 hours, not every 3.
I stress because Crew's consuming more stored milk than I can replenish.
I stress because having a newborn keeps me from catching my toddler as he colors the kitchen cabinets with markers, finds scissors to open a dvd ("my do it, mommy!"), or stuffs 12 dvds into the dvd player.
I stress because said toddler has a cold and just kissed baby brother smack on the lips.
I stress because for two nights, the baby slept 8 hours... but the following 5 nights, he did not.
I stress because my house isn't clean and my clothes don't fit yet.
I stress, I stress, I stress.
And then I cry.
I cry because I'm tired. I cry because I can't always figure out why the baby's crying. I cry because I just need an hour. I cry because my hair is a hot mess. Always. I cry because I feel like I'm failing. (I won't even get into neglecting my husband.)
Surely I'm not alone. Surely I'm not the only antithesis to Donna Reed or June Cleaver. Surely I'm not the only one who loses it and takes it out on an empty pizza box. (Ok, maybe I'm alone there.) I'v heard it said that going from one child to two is hard. But no one warned me it would be the hardest thing I've ever done. And I'm a little embarrassed to be admitting such in writing.
But even though I'm getting my bum handed to me, I look at my baby's face and I somehow still have the coherency to think, wow - what a gift. And the ever merciful Lord uses the moment to pull me from myself and marvel at His creation and His grace. Yes, two seconds later I'm pulling banana out of my toddler's nose, but the moment is still planted. I can do this (Lord, forgive me for my worry); I will do this (because He gives me strength to do all things). And in my snippets of clarity, I'll love the joy of it all.
I stress because Crew's eating every 2 hours, not every 3.
I stress because Crew's consuming more stored milk than I can replenish.
I stress because having a newborn keeps me from catching my toddler as he colors the kitchen cabinets with markers, finds scissors to open a dvd ("my do it, mommy!"), or stuffs 12 dvds into the dvd player.
I stress because said toddler has a cold and just kissed baby brother smack on the lips.
I stress because for two nights, the baby slept 8 hours... but the following 5 nights, he did not.
I stress because my house isn't clean and my clothes don't fit yet.
I stress, I stress, I stress.
And then I cry.
I cry because I'm tired. I cry because I can't always figure out why the baby's crying. I cry because I just need an hour. I cry because my hair is a hot mess. Always. I cry because I feel like I'm failing. (I won't even get into neglecting my husband.)
Surely I'm not alone. Surely I'm not the only antithesis to Donna Reed or June Cleaver. Surely I'm not the only one who loses it and takes it out on an empty pizza box. (Ok, maybe I'm alone there.) I'v heard it said that going from one child to two is hard. But no one warned me it would be the hardest thing I've ever done. And I'm a little embarrassed to be admitting such in writing.
But even though I'm getting my bum handed to me, I look at my baby's face and I somehow still have the coherency to think, wow - what a gift. And the ever merciful Lord uses the moment to pull me from myself and marvel at His creation and His grace. Yes, two seconds later I'm pulling banana out of my toddler's nose, but the moment is still planted. I can do this (Lord, forgive me for my worry); I will do this (because He gives me strength to do all things). And in my snippets of clarity, I'll love the joy of it all.
No comments:
Post a Comment