Surviving Parenthood

On my second day home alone with two children instead of just one, Madeline woke up with a stomach bug.  I shuffled from one end of the living room to the other, rubbing the back of my big girl as she got sick and rocking my two-week-old baby to sleep. 

Nothing like trial by fire to completely freak out a new (for the second time) mother.  We got through the day just fine, but I found myself wondering what the hell I was doing on more than one occasion.  

Now that we're three months in to this new adventure, life is running a lot more smoothly.  

Some days are still tough.  One morning, both Madeline and I ended up in tears over a pair of socks.  In those moments, I feel like a fraud convinced that someone should revoke my mommy badge immediately. "What kind of mother am I if I can't even get my kids dressed?!" I feel like screaming.  

And there's no such thing as a break now that I'm home full time.  Madeline insisted on following me into the bathroom while I indulged in the rare shower the other morning.  Then she heckled me through our glass shower doors as she pointed out all the parts of my body she thought were funny.  Next time, I don't care how many tears she sheds, she's staying in her room.  

On the other hand, more and more days are turning out  just fine.  In fact, some are downright magical.  

Last Thursday afternoon, Madeline squealed, "What a cute, little day we had!" after we finished a fun game we had invented.

Madeline's simple declaration made up for the shower incident ten times over.  Vivi was happily napping in her swing, Maddie was smiling, and I even had time to do the dishes.  I am mother, hear me roar.  

The key to our success is that I've learned to simplify my expectations of what motherhood should look like.  I'm rarely June Cleaver, but that's okay.  If we're having the kind of day that makes me wonder why we ever decided to reproduce in the first place, we slow things way down.  Who cares if the TV stays on longer than it should, or if we never get out of our pjs?  My sanity is at stake.  

There are two pieces of advice I give myself when the socks are about to hit the fan.

First, I have spent more one-on-one quality time with Madeline than I ever will with Vivi.  Therefore, I should not feel guilty about devoting so much time to the baby right now.  The baby needs me, and it's healthy for Madeline to realize that she's not the center of the universe.

Secondly, my children will be happier if I'm happy.  Who wants to deal with a grumpy, short-tempered mother all the time?  My kids deserve better than that.  If that means I have to put Vivi down to eat lunch, that's okay.  If it means I have to make Madeline go to her room for some quiet time so I can have half-an-hour of peace, that's okay too.  Then when I've regained my footing, I'm ready to greet both my girls with a smile and a good attitude.  

As I'm about to post this, Vivi is crying from her swing.  She did not sleep well last night, but still woke up at 6 am.  Meanwhile, Madeline is complaining that she's cold and wants to cuddle.  I'm simply trying to get some hot coffee in my body.  And so the day begins...