I Don't Know How She Does It

Well, it's certainly been a while since I have had a chance to write.  It is a small miracle that I am even able to sit and type this.  I am going to write as fast as I can because these moments of alone time are few and far between.

My last post was all sunshine and rainbows.  While I can say that this house is still full of happiness and laughter, it is certainly a day to day struggle trying to get my ever living sh*t together.  Two babies under three is a challenge.  And that is putting it mildly.  This is coming from a girl that has always wanted four children.  At this point, my husband told me that he will bring home a puppy if I ever ask for another baby.

Let me preface the following rant by saying that Tommy is the sweetest, cutest baby I could ever hope to have.  

The Sweet & Cute Baby T

He's definitely easy going, mild tempered and completely adorable.  However, he doesn't sleep through the night yet.  His sister gave him big shoes to fill.  She slept through the night almost instantly.  I realize he is only eight weeks old and I may have slightly high expectations for him.  But I'm tired.  I'm run down, dealing with the most horrendous head cold right now.

My Three Loves

B is the most supportive Daddy in the world.  But truth be told, he is no help to me during the week.  He can't get up for that feeding in the middle of the night because he has to be up for work by six in the morning.  So, it leaves me to be up every night.  I never get the chance to catch up during the day.  I imagine I won't sleep soundly until they are married with children of their own.  Well, actually, knowing me I probably won't sleep restfully then either.  I worry too much for that.

I love when people tell me that I should be sleeping when he sleeps.  Or when Rose goes down for a nap, I should lay down too.  Let me ask these people:  Who in the hell does your cooking, cleaning or organizing?  Never mind bathing!  I thank my lucky stars for the blow dry bar up the street.  Once a week I get my hair done.  This gives me the liberty to have fabulous hair even if I cannot count on one hand how many times I have showered in a given week.

Sleeping When He Sleeps.

There are other stay-at-home moms that I associate with that are able to juggle so many things.  I truly don't know how they do it.  Four kids, re-decorating their house, keeping themselves active and finding time to exercise all while looking put together.  On a daily basis, I am lucky if I find the time to floss my teeth or shave my legs.  Thank God I have a husband who likes to have a few cocktails.  If he really had time to inspect me without alcohol infused goggles on, he would probably dry heave at the state of me and the never-ending stench of spit up and poop.  Oh, and let's not forget the stretch marks.  I gained almost fifty pounds with T.  I am down 30 and am pretty much at a standstill.  I don't feel good in my clothes and am still wearing maternity jeans because I am petrified to stand in front of florescent lighting in a dressing room and read a tag that says my new size is a double digit.

Early on, I realized that I was not going to be able to breastfeed Tommy.  This is another thing that I am beating myself up for incessantly.  When he first came home, I gave it my best shot.  I nursed him morning, noon and night.  I always used to pass judgement and say if you don't breastfeed, it is not because you can't, it is because you don't want to.  Well, lesson learned!  I can say that is one hundred percent NOT true.  Never in my life did I try so hard and feel like such a failure.  I took supplements, drank that horrendous tea, drank half my body weight in ounces of water every day.  I pumped every two to three hours only to make 2 ounces of milk and continued to make him suckle on me like a pacifier whenever he was in my arms.  It just didn't happen for us.  Every time he would nurse, he would bleed me dry and then cry and scream for more to eat.  He would cry, I would cry and it was just one big disaster.

He's lucky he's so darn cute!

So one day, I popped a bottle of formula in his mouth.  And you know what happened?  He slept for seven hours straight over night.  Enough said.  So, slowly it became apparent that Tommy was going to be a formula baby.  At first I grieved really hard because of it.  Only if you have breastfed before, would you understand the feelings that I am talking about.  There is nothing like nursing your child.  The bond is very powerful and such a feeling of utter peace comes over your whole body when you are in the midst of doing it.

I am doing better with it now.  I have learned that I need to be kind to myself.  The time that it would have taken me to nurse him and pump for hours on end, I am now able to get on the floor and color with Rose.  We sit on the couch and read books, go to the park, library or music class.  I feel like what I had to sacrifice for Tommy, I was able to give back to Rose.  It gives her the extra time and attention she needs  to feel secure while adjusting to her new baby brother.  For me, that just makes everything all right.  

Rosie Posie at the Playground

I do find myself fibbing about it at times, however.  Every so often someone will ask me if I am nursing and I will say, "A bit."  Why?!?  I don't know.  I need to just own that I don't breastfeed and not feel like such a leper about it.  It amazes me that there isn't support for women who decide NOT to breastfeed.  Every where I look, I see references to it and how important it is.  I was watching "Milo & Otis" with Rose the other day and actually felt envy toward the mama cat feeding her kittens.  Pathetic.

On top of the guilt of that, I've been craving time out in the real world.  Sure, there is wine at the end of the day with the husband.  But that is usually on the couch with a good episode of Homeland.  That really isn't fun after the tenth or eleventh time.  Just being honest.  And when you are drinking at home with two little ones, it isn't like you can really go wild and let yourself go.  It's two glasses of wine and head to bed because a little man is going to be hollering at me for his bottle in a few hours.

On a walk with my two babies.

I finally got myself out and into the city the other night with my sister in law.  We went and had dinner at the Yaffa Cafe and then saw one of my oldest and dearest friends, Michelle Lewis, play a show.  It was so amazingly gratifying to have some time to myself.  At first when leaving the house, I felt incredibly guilty.  Not the kind of guilt I felt when leaving Rose as a newborn.  That was more like being petrified to leave her with anyone.  This time it was more of a feeling of who do I think I am to leave my husband with two babies and have a night out?  After the second glass of red wine these feelings dissipated almost instantly.

Being in the city, riding on the train on my own, it gave me a moment to remember who I am without two little people hanging on me.  I hate to say that, but it is true.  I live and breathe for my children and I am grateful to be home raising them every day.  But I truly believe that every mom needs and deserves time away.  These two are the loves of my life but they are not my identity.  I have to remember that sometimes and not feel guilty when something that interests me pulls me away from them for a small amount of the day.

When I was sitting there listening to Michelle play, so many feelings came rushing back to me.  Days before the babies came along, when we would sit in pubs all afternoon drinking, talking and daydreaming.  I realized I was lacking creativity in my life.  I think I need an outlet.  Something to keep my mind occupied.  Like painting lessons or piano lessons or something.  I really miss reading.  I can't seem to find the time to pick up a book anymore.  Usually, when I have time to myself, it is used to do things around the house, catch up on bad TV or heat up my coffee for the third time in a row.  Even now as I am sitting here, Brian is asking me what I am doing.  Because really, is there enough time in the day for me to be playing on the laptop?

Truth be told, I'm struggling.  Every day is different.  I sometimes feel like I am just faking it until I make it.  I know that as the time goes on it will get easier as they get older.  I don't want to rush this time away because I know I am going to miss this and want this back.  But for now I am just glad that I have this little blog to vent on and get my feelings out there.  If I don't, I will just burst.