The other night at Bunko, my fellow bunko beauties questioned…
“So, how’s life with two kids… how’s Jonah…”
“Oh, you know… an almost six week old and a toddler…”.
“No. We don’t know”.
As none of them have children of their own yet, I found myself just kind of moving away from the topic. While I generally want to be brutally honest, I just didn’t have it in me. I was away from the kiddos and I was enjoying a beer {yes, I enjoy an occasional beer even though I am breastfeeding…} and I didn’t want to lament the goings ons of my long-ish days that I am currently living.
Up until this week, I felt like I had a really good handle on things. Adam was doing one of the feedings at night {since Ms. Lefty was being left out} and so after waking to pump, I’d return to a {current} blissful state of slumber until the next feeding. *Note: I love sleep. I need sleep. I am not good without sleep.
Well, after visiting the marvelous Milk Lady once again, I have begun feeding from both sides … begrudgingly using a shield for the left … in an effort to eliminate much of the pumping and to lessen the load of cleaning bottles, flanges, membranes and all the parts of mr. pumper. And because I only think it’s fair, since Adam has to go off to work each day {read: to earn our income} that he not have to be up at all hours of the night. So, now, I am up more from dusk till dawn. And I think that’s where we started to lose our footing.
Additionally, Jonah has started to sleep less during the day and currently likes to be held about 97.52% of the time. I can hardly blame him. I am very comfy. But seriously. Holding a wee one and entertaining a toddler … way different than the first go round {or so I am told. My first time around, my infant screamed. Incessantly. And I dreamed of margaritas.}. I bought a Moby but for the life of me, can’t seem to position him properly without 28 hands assisting. I have a Bjorn but for some reason feel silly sporting it around the house. And, Jonah is currently too small for the Hotsling that I toted B out and about in starting at 8 pounds. So, I find my day monopolized by bouncing and jiggling a somewhat agitated Jonah {he’s getting less fussy. It’s just takes a little time for a small little chap}. It’s not that the days are generally like performing rocket science but they are certainly exhausting.
So, here’s the dose of reality I would, had I had the energy, shared with my fellow Bunko-ites. Wednesday night, I got about 5 hours of sleep. Doesn’t sound that bad, right? But that’s not 5 consecutive hours and it’s not me deciding to get up to go have a glass of milk and check my facebook and hop back into the sheets. It’s my child, loudly gently screaming summoning me to get his sucker on my sustenance producing set spend some time with him. So anyhoozie. 5 hours. And then, the day begins when Adam leaves for work.
As I think any mom can attest to, somedays, it’s a long row to hoe to get to nap time. But we make it. And some days, we all need naps. Thursday was one of those days. I got B all settled for nap. Fed J. Finally calmed J’s post-eatin’ reflux rigors and voila! J and I fell off into a peaceful slumber. I awoke to Barrett’s jibber jabber through the monitor. I immediately stirred and thought, Wow. I must have slept for an hour and a half and not even realized it. No no, my friends. He’d only been asleep for a half hour {if you don’t have nappers… mine usually sleeps for 1.5 to 2 hours once a day}. And just thirty minutes into his supposed sleeping session, he was jackin’ around in his bed. I got out of bed… which of course, stirred the finally peaceful peanut. I left Jonah and headed north to yell at have a nice convo with Barrett. One more somewhat calm convo followed the first but by the third trip up the stairs, I was in full-blown Faye Dunaway mode. I left his room in tears, slamming the door {because, yes, I am a thirteen year old}. Jonah, by this point, was in full-scream. And I was a total wreck. At 3:00, I phoned my sister. In tears. She assured me that no one would be calling CPS anytime soon. I relayed to her that Barrett was still on his bed in his room and I was having a timeout. I cried more. She continued to tell me I wasn’t a bad mom and that she would do the same thing {if you’ve ever met my sister, you SO know this is not the case. But thanks to her for being a good sister anyway}. After a bit longer, I retrieved Barrett from his bedroom. I cried as I hugged him and then allowed him to watch Super Why and eat Vanilla Jo Jo’s on the couch {a ploy to reduce a mother’s guilt}. Still in my jams, I ate half of a turkey sandwich for lunch at 4 pm. It was a pretty awesome day at the Brehm house.
This morning started out in a similar fashion. I had to wait it out as Jonah wailed {we have to wait thirty minutes post meds before feeding … which, if awake, he just loves} and so I found myself using the restroom and applying my makeup in tandem. It had all the makings of a bad after school special for abstinence {and no. I’m not saying abstinence is bad. Abstinence is good. Very good.}.
The reality of it is, there are really good days and there are really exhausting ones. There are days where you can keep your patience and there are days when every little thing sends patience packing. There are days when you think everything your children do is adorable and days when each and every move is maddening. And of course, there are days where Jonah is somewhat content {read: sleeping} and others when he’s never content {read: won’t sleep. fussy. agitated. What is with my babies?}. There are days. And we’ve had a couple. Back to back.
Thank goodness for a playdate today {we are always taking visitors. And generally willing to be visitors}. And thank goodness for Friday. And thank goodness my husband brought home Diet Coke. It’s been a doozy of a day.
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