Dear Moms in the Two Kid Trenches,
I get it finally. I really, really do.
Here I am, donned in day old pajamas and staring bleary eyed at the same near blank computer screen that’s been taunting me for the past half an hour. And it’s officially 7:15pm. And my day isn’t over yet.
It’s not because I have a lot of pressing tasks to complete or an upcoming busy day out there in the world to prepare for, but instead it’s because my day never really ends. Like, ever.
Welcome to new parenthood. We’ve been waiting for you.
Between all the night feeds, the diapers (now times two – what the hell was I thinking!?), and the varying shades of crazy that accompany being a mother to two under two, each and every day has finally begun to blur mercilessly into the next one. Actually, my only point of reference for a new day beginning right now is the local news channel I’ve found myself staring mindlessly at while nursing at 4:20am every morning, and the coffee pot switching on for one more round of ‘mama juice’ every day.
I’m starting to think nothing will ever be the same again.
I’m assured by many a trustworthy source that the transition from one to two is way harder than any additional kiddos that may one day waddle into our lives, but I can’t help but wonder what I could have done to prepare myself for this two kid madness earlier on.
I’ve always thought of myself as a strong multitasker, able to balance both physical and mental strain without letting too much slip through the cracks. Well, my mortal enemies would be laughing now, let me tell you (may I refer once more to the opening sentence of this piece – day old pjs people, and they ain’t clean let me assure you of that).
There’s nothing to be found, that is quite so close to torture in everyday life I’ve decided, as being made to tolerate multiple tiny people of your own devising, screaming relentlessly for your total, undivided attention. So if that means attempting to open and enter a preheated oven, testing their capacity to choke dramatically on Play-Doh (non-toxic can’t help you now), or demonstrating their uncanny ability to bring a grown woman to her knees during a particularly violent nursing session, they WILL succeed in causing you to abandon whatever menial task you were finally making headway on.
Which is fine since you’ve already been trying to finish it for the last two days anyway.
What’s one more day of wearing your husband’s work out clothes, and eating dinner out of coffee mugs? Frankly, if it wasn’t for kindhearted friends and family stocking our refrigerator, I suspect we’d all have perished from scurvy by now.
So, as of right now I’m choosing to walk forward into the chaos directly, brandishing my unwashed hair with pride and boldly wearing the same pair of socks I did yesterday. Because this is after all just a season, and beneath all the frustration, the mess, and the downright crazy, there is really some beauty to be found and to be remembered.
Tomorrow all this won’t seem quite so bad, and chances are we’ll all smell a little better too. Here’s to hoping.
Right, time to hop off now. There’s a mini-me screaming for his third meal in an hour and a half, and that’s simply a force that cannot be reckoned with.
Over and out, Momma Friends.