I think I was once in la-la land. From the outside, motherhood looked like a cake-walk. And it was something I wanted so very much. I had no idea -- none at all -- how much it would change me. Motherhood is beautiful. And I wouldn't trade it. But it's also no cakewalk.
Sometimes the days are long. Very long. Like today.
I finally fell asleep between 12:30 and 1 this morning (I'm going through some insomnia nights, which is crazy to me, because I'm an exhausted pregnant lady). Jeremy's alarm went off at 4:30 and I am pretty sure I woke up. I went back to sleep, though. But woke again around 5:50 because I had to pee (another pregnant lady casualty ;)). I slept about another hour. Lynnaea woke up around 7:10. And she was ready to get up. None of this letting her chill in her crib for a bit longer while I try to doze for 15 or 20 extra minutes. So I got up. Got her her "milk milk" and retrieved her from her crib. And she's always so happy in the morning. She makes it worth it. I decided what to do for breakfast (cream of wheat). I cooked it. We ate it. I changed her diaper and her clothes. I changed mine. I brushed and flossed my teeth -- and brushed Lynnaea's. I made a gooey pumpkin cake. I started feeling sick and had to sit on the couch for a bit while I let my toddler watch Elmo. Which she is totally cool with. But sometimes I feel like a bad mom. And I was just hoping I wasn't getting sick or something. But maybe I just didn't have something filling enough in my stomach (cream of wheat) for the pre-natal vitamin? Because it eventually passed, and I was fine.
She came down with yet another cold. Blech. So I knew we wouldn't be going to toddler story time today. But still wanted to go check out new books at the library. So we headed down to the library at 9:50. Which means I had to convince my toddler she needed socks, shoes, and a coat on -- it's cold outside. This takes time, believe me. I load up all the books in a bag. And the diaper bag. I feel like the bag lady. I remind Lynnaea to grab a spittie (these are essential accessories...), and we manage to get out the door. I put the rent check out for the mail. Lynnaea decides she doesn't want me to carry her down the stairs, but instead wants to go up the stairs and around the building to the car. I relent, because I'm already heavy-laden with books and such. And she's almost 30 pounds. So we walk up the steps, down a couple steps, and around the building to the carport. I load her into the car and get in myself. And after letting the van warm up for a minute or so... We're off! We make it to the library a bit after 10. We return all our (18) books from last week (plus 4 DVDs). We get our holds off the hold shelf and look for some new ones. I let my little girl wander around the kids section. Yes, I'm that mom... But there aren't many people there, and she's not being disruptive. We get our books and check out and we're back in the van by 10:30, when story time usually starts for us. Lynnaea was not wanting to leave...
We get home, only this time, I carry Lynnaea and everything up the stairs. I feel old and tired and fat and pregnant. We check the mail. We get in the house. I unload. Lynnaea wants a nap. I want her to wait until after lunch... We're still adjusting to the one-nap-a-day thing. But I know if I let her nap early, she'll want to nap again later -- and then not go to sleep at night. So I do what the "good mom" in me does in emergencies: I put on a DVD. Sigh. (Mommy guilt is a real thing.) Also, we eat a piece of the pumpkin cake. Or maybe more than one...
Then it's time to start making lunch. Cheese quesadillas. We eat, and it's now a little after noon. Lynnaea wants to watch another Elmo. Mommy says no. She's watched enough for now. But how about we read some stories to help us get ready for nap-time? So Lynnaea agrees, and we do. We read 3 stories. Including one of her current favorites: Wow! Said the Owl. And by the time we finish, it's about 12:40. So I tell her it's nap-time. I sing to her as I carry her to her room. I put her in her crib and she rolls over and sucks her thumb. I remember I'm supposed to be putting her down in the toddler bed for naps so she starts getting used to the toddler bed (we'll need the crib eventually for this baby). Oh well, maybe I'll remember tomorrow. I go lay in my bed and read for 15 minutes. But I'm so tired. I just want a nap. So I roll over, but my baby has spent all those 15 minutes coughing. And I feel bad for her. So I go in to see if she can fall asleep while I hold her in an upright position. But that ends up being a mistake. Because now she won't go to sleep. No. matter. what. I. try.
In frustration -- knowing she needs a nap. Knowing I do too... I put her in the crib and let her cry. I figure she'll eventually go to sleep. She cries for 30 minutes. I get no sleep. I only feel guilt. Because I've never done that to her before. Not for 30 minutes. I am a terrible mother. Selfish. I finally go in. She's standing in her crib, tears streaming down her face. And now I feel even worse. We come out to the couch and I hold her. I tell her I'm sorry. I promise never to do that again. And I mean it.
It's 2:00. It's anyone's guess if Jeremy will be home at 3 or 5. But based on the last couple weeks, it'll probably be 5. But hey, there's over-time, right? Haha... Sometimes it's not worth it. I sit on the couch and play with my baby girl for a while. I know I need to get started on dinner. On figuring out what all dinner will be. By 2:30, I think I've decided on scalloped potatoes. They cook for 1 1/2 hours. So I need to start those around 3:30 or so. I need to cut the veggies for stir fry. I need to wash the dishes. But maybe Lynnaea and I should make a smoothie first. So I consult with my little sous chef. She agrees. So we make one (with kale). And we share it. And then I put on another Elmo so I can do dishes and start on dinner. Yep, I'm awesome today...
I get dinner going. I'm sitting down for a few minutes to relax when I notice Lynnaea is doing her plank stance. Which means she has to poop, but is holding it. So I say, "are you pooping?" She says, "Elmo potty?" Which means she wants to sit on the potty and use the tablet. I know this: she will probably not go to the bathroom on the potty. She has already succeeded in squashing the urge. But she wants to use the tablet, and the only way she can is to sit on the potty. I give in. Because I don't want to discourage her desire to sit on the potty. Sometimes she actually does end up going on the potty and we celebrate and make a big deal out of it. And one day, she'll ask because she wants to go, not just to use the tablet. So I'll hope for those days and give her the chance when she asks. Even if I know it's just for tablet-time. It's 4:50. She has 10 minutes. If she does go on the potty, she gets extra tablet time off the potty. If she doesn't, then her time is up. So I sit on the bathtub edge while she sits on the potty. Jeremy comes home. It's 5:00. And time for me to finish up the rest of dinner.
I get everything in the oven (30 minutes to cook) and I'm contemplating washing the dishes so I don't have a mountain to do after we eat. I also remember I have thawed pumpkin in the fridge and was going to go ahead and make more pumpkin chocolate chip bread to freeze. And I wanted to get the batter ready so I could pop them in when dinner was done (oven's already hot, right?). But then I look at my toddler laying on the kitchen floor, sucking her thumb. She is nearly asleep. I can't stand to watch her sleep on the kitchen floor. And, honestly? I'd rather she didn't sleep at this point. I know she's tired. I know she didn't nap. But I still want her to go to bed at a decent time tonight. I pick her up. I tell her Daddy will be done with his shower soon, does she want to play with him? She lays in my arms, sucking her thumb. I hold her on the couch, and she falls asleep in my arms. I let her. Because she is my baby. Jeremy comes out after his shower and I fill him in on the day. I tell him how I feel like I've failed today as a mother. It's been a hard day. And I didn't even do anything really productive, unless you count making food.
I lay Lynnaea down on the bean bag chair and she continues to sleep. I make a mess of my kitchen trying to make vegetables and pumpkin bread batter before everything is ready to eat. The scalloped potatoes have overflowed (which I anticipated) and when I heat the oven up further for the bread, the drip pan -- which remains in the oven temporarily -- starts to smoke with all the potato stuff that overflowed. And the smoke alarm goes off. We manage to eat dinner somewhere between 5:45 and 6. Lynnaea wakes up a bit before we get everything on the table. Her nap was not long, and not where she normally naps (in her room). She is disoriented, and wants only mommy. So I hold her as I try to get everything on the table (and Jeremy tries to clear the smoke out of the house).
We eat dinner. It's a pretty successful meal. But the dishes are mountainous, and I want to start washing. So I do. I dread the potato dish and the drip pan (which I should have prepped better than I did...). I get about 5 dishes washed when Lynnaea almost falls out of her chair at the table. (She likes to stand in her chair and sometimes doesn't watch where she's walking...). She's tired, so everything is melt-down worthy. And mommy is the one she wants at these times. So she starts fussing and runs into the kitchen to get me. I pick her up and sit with her on the couch for a few minutes. She sits snuggled at my side. Really, she just wants to snuggle, which is rare for her. Jeremy comes and sits on her other side and she decides she'll accept Daddy so Mommy can go back to washing dishes. I get almost all the dishes done and take a break to get a shower. When I am done with my shower, I hear Lynnaea banging on the bathroom door, "mama!" I open it up and let her in. She is so happy. I take a break (or waste some time) and scroll through facebook. Lynnaea wants to sit on my lap and "help." I let her. It's after 7, and getting close to time for her to get into her pajamas and have her night-time "milk milk" and have a new diaper. So we move into that routine. We have scriptures and prayer and sing a church song. We brush her teeth. I give her a small piece of floss too. Because she's seen me and Jeremy floss, so she wants to as well. She's content with 3 inches ;). We pick out 3 stories to read. But that becomes 4. It's 8:30, and I put her to bed. I sing to her as I carry her there. I lay her down and cover her. I come back out to finish the dishes. The "hard ones."
I finish them. Finally. I pull the remaining of my Girl Scout Thin Mint cookies out. I deserve them tonight. My baby starts crying. I go in for her. She is standing in her crib. I pick her up. She has only been in there 15 minutes, but she is sweaty. Her head is soaked. And her forehead feels cold/clammy. I realize she must have had a low-grade fever. Still feeling like mother of the year over here -- I didn't even realize it. Her fever has broken, I guess. I feel bad. I lower the heat in her room and bring her out to the living room to cool down (her room is the warmest in the house). She wants to read more stories after I snuggle her for a bit. And then she wants to play "throw the ball." I agree to the stories -- not to the ball. It's bed-time, after all. By 9:00, I am able to take her back to her room. But she says, "Rock rock." This is how she asks for me to rock her. She doesn't always want this anymore. So when she asks, I do. Because I've already seen that these moments are fleeting. I lay her down after a few minutes. I am able to come out and have my "me time." Jeremy is in bed already.
11:00, and I hear Jeremy cough and then I hear Lynnaea call out, "No!" So I go in to check on her, expecting her to be awake. She isn't. She must be dreaming. So I rub her back and sing softly to her. I don't want her to have bad dreams. She continues to sleep. I have finished my book, so I decide to blog. Even though it's late. And even though I'm tired. It's been a long day. It's nearly midnight now, and I'm wrapping up.
Yes, motherhood is no cake-walk. I have felt a wider range of emotions than I knew existed since becoming a mother. I have felt guilt and not-good-enoughness (there is a word for this, but my tired brain can't grasp it right now) like never before. But I have felt love like never before too. And joy.
The other day, I was at Trader Joe's. They have these little carts for kids to push around. It's still a little too big for Lynnaea (she has to reach up to push it, and her eyes are looking underneath the handlebar), but I let her try pushing it. She loved it. And everyone in the store thought she was the cutest. One older couple, as they smiled while watching her, turned to me and said, "They grow up fast." They are not the first to tell me. I shared with them a quote I read not too long ago. It is a quote that has really stuck with me -- and probably will for the rest of my life.
The days are long, but the years are short.
They agreed. It's always older people who tell me these things. And they never say it in that "oh thank goodness these years pass quickly" type of way. I hear in those statements what they don't say: cherish every moment, even the hard ones, for they are gone so quickly and you will miss them terribly.
Yes, the days are long. And pretty unglamorous. I make a million mistakes. I get frustrated. But I wouldn't trade it for the world. And the years are short. The last couple of weeks, I've looked at Lynnaea, and I realize: she is not a baby anymore. She is growing up so fast. She looks like a little girl. Where have the last 2 years gone?
And so, I try to remember. I try to remember the unspoken words: cherish each moment, even the hard ones. It's not always easy. But I try.
1 comment:
I love you.
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