This morning I was up at 6:00. By 8:30 am, I was completely defeated.
Why is it life is Hell bent on ruining my best laid plans? I had every intention of getting started bright and early on the mountain range of laundry from our weekend vacation to Yellow Stone. I was going to take the house by storm, one room at a time, and by the time the kids were all running at full speed, I could take a nap.
Enter the baby.
The baby. My darling little Georgia Tess, light of my life and chub of my heart. When that girl decides to eat, she’s all business. Sure, I’m now getting a solid seven hour block of sleep every night, but in return I have to nurse her from 4 pm to 9 pm. Do you know what that does to the dinner schedule?
So usually she’ll eat early in the morning, then have a good sleep until Harry leaves for school–hence my big plan. But this morning? No sooner was I strapped into my day bra than she was hollering for nourishment. So I fed her. And fed her and fed her and fed her.
By 8 am we were on round three (that’s six sides of breast milk), blocked out at 15 minute show times. Do you know how it feels to sit on your bed in a trashed room with an infant who just won’t give it up, and continues to eat like she’s from Ethiopia?
(And let the record state that she never spits up. Where in the name of Twinkies is all that going?)
When I heard the garage door close with Jason’s leave, I kind of lost it. How am I supposed to do all this alone? Where is freaking Mary Poppins already?
In that panicked moment of desperation, I called my mom. In a nutshell, let me tell you how she talked me down off the counter ledge (it was the tallest surface I could master within walking range).
When it comes to the next twnety years, there will only be a few magical moments when my house and my laundry pile will look exactly like I want it to. It’s like our old laundry shoot at home. As soon as she’d finish all the laundry, someone would go and throw down a pair of stinky undies and ruin the whole thing. Frankly, there’s always going to be another pair of dirty undies, no matter how hard I try.
After talking to her, I realized that I’m not raising couches and carpets, I’m raising babies. They’re stinky and messy and horribly uncivilized, they’re selfish and self involved and totally unaware of just how much trouble they cause me.
And with all the crap comes moments of wonder, like when the caterpillar they caught cacooned while sitting on the bedpost. Or when they realize that all you need for a parade is a wagon. The pillow forts that drive me crazy bring hours of fights and laughter, the apple peels under the counter mean I’ve successfully taught them to eat things other than candy, and they think I’m smart because I can read books and they can’t.
In twenty years all of this will be gone. Forget defeated, by the time I got off the phone with my mother all I wanted to do was snuggle my baby and listen to my children prattle on about Monarch butterflies.
And for the record, I also called my best friend, who came over for an hour of chatter and hard-core house cleaning. If you haven’t let anyone into your mess yet, I highly suggest you go there. Friendship can fix a whole crap load of things.
Friends, moms, and an occasional dose of sanity. Sometimes that’s all a new mother can ask for. Miraculously, it’s usually enough.
That’s one heck of a mom and one heck of a friend. =]
I second DeNae’s comment wholeheartedly.
I think it’s time to start her on the bottle. Of Diet Coke. Apparently, that would be better than formula, since that crap has beetles in it. But aspartame will be awesome!
Letting a friend into your mess is such a wonderful relief. I have only been able to allow myself to do it with one close friend, but I’ve seen her mess and she’s seen mine. We both know that in those crazy, counter ledge moments, she’ll happily wade through my mountain of laundry and I’ll happily wade through hers. Just like you’ve said, it has gotten me through a crap load of . . . well . . . crap. Glad to hear you’re enjoying the snuggles and butterflies!
I was up at 6:30 with a pair of soaking wet undies. My first thought was, “I JUST washed boys clothes last night. Is this seriously happening?”
Thank heavens for mothers. Yours, and the one you are. And thanks for writing this all down for us. You continually offer the perspective and humor that I need!
I also think your girls might be ready for georgia to be introduced to a bottle…..I only discovered the bottle this time around and it’s been a lifesaver!
Wise woman your mother. And I love the second to the last line. Love it.