I Do Not Run This Life

I absolutely am not in charge of my life. I have no control.

My whole day revolves around the babies’ schedules; when they sleep, when they wake up, when they eat. My meals are when they nap or when they are preoccupied with their own meals which means I’m essentially munching on Cheez-its while I feed Dominic yogurt or, on a really bad day, while I watch Dominic fling yogurt literally all around the living room.

Today was a really good day, until the end. By 8pm, I’m just so pooped. After their post-dinner baths, I normally let them run around until they get super tired. Then I leave Shane in his room to sleep and nurse Dominic to sleep. BUT these little boogers have been getting up earlier and earlier recently and their sleep schedules have been all off. We’ve been up since 8am today, 7am the day before, and 5am the day before that. Lack of sleep is never a good thing for me. I would spill all secrets if sleep deprivation was ever used on me. I went on a solo Giant run during their first one-hour afternoon nap, which was divine. I made some dinner during their long ass 2-3 hour late afternoon nap. By the time their dinner was over with and their bath was complete, I was wiped. Hubby took an early day from work since he wasn’t feeling too well. I wanted him to rest, I did. But honestly with two spawns of demons running around, I wanted all the extra help I could get. I tried to let him relax today so he could rest up and rest his body from fighting off something weird. But I just get so frustrated so obviously I kept asking him to help. From morning to night, I’m on. I’m constantly on. Even when I’m closing my eyes, I’m listening to the babies. Even if the TV is on and I’m trying to watch a show, I’m watching the babies. When they’re napping and quiet and I’m able to make a few calls for work, I’m still listening in the quiet. When I’m doing dishes, I have my eyes on them. I’m always watching, always worrying, always freaking out about what they’re getting into next. I’m just so tired. I don’t think I want a full day of being sans babies. I just want a partner who will weather this storm with me. Someone who will help when both are running around like two chickens with their heads cut off. Someone who will play peek-a-boo or sing the itsy bitsy spider song for the millionth time in a row. Someone who will dance to every single Little People song and every single Octonauts song. I just want someone to help me discipline these kids in a manner that encourages their independence but also sets boundaries for them. I just lose my mind after the 10th time of telling the kids the same things over and over again. I try to explain why I get so upset and burst out in anger because I’m frustrated that they’re still tipping over the floor lamp for the umpteenth time even though they know they’re not supposed to because they can seriously get hurt and that I’m freaking out because we’ve already gone through a burn on Dominic’s hand due to this same issue, but I feel like it doesn’t have the same effect on a toddler as it does a rational adult. They seem like complete assholes because they know what they’re doing is wrong, yet they do it anyway. Probably just to get a reaction out of me. When did these little babies become such assholes? I’m sure hubby wants someone who won’t nag him so much about doing more and more things around the house. Someone who won’t ask him to do so many things before bedtime. Someone who always has meals ready for him when he’s ready to eat. Someone who is more independent and doesn’t rely on him or need him for anything. Someone who is a trooper and doesn’t complain so much about every single thing. Someone who doesn’t have so many qualms about his game playing. I’m sure there are things we both would like the other to compromise to.

But some days, I feel so low on my hubby’s to-do list. I know he’s making an effort. I know he’s trying his hardest, but it doesn’t feel enough most times. Maybe it’s my insanely high expectations for him. Maybe it’s just because I’m unhappy being home all the time. I feel like when I was working, I was making some sort of an impact on the world or a company. Here, I know I’m “shaping minds and people”, but seriously.. I’m literally just checking diapers, making sure these kids don’t get into anything dangerous, and catering to their every single demand. This is the worst job. Long hours, awful pay, horribly demanding bosses. It’s dirty. It’s emotionally, physically, and mentally draining. It changes you in ways you never thought you could become. But I guess it’s not all bad.. you do get a best friend for life, in my case, two! You have little minions from the ages of  when they’re potty trained and wanting to please you-whenever they’re old enough to realize they can defy you since they’re their own little being and “you’re not the boss of their life”. Plus their little giggles and cuddles are forever adorable and fill your heart with so much love you might literally explode.

Sometimes I feel like I’m spinning out of control.

But then I go and cuddle a baby and I feel a little better.

I just get so tired of blowing up at the hubby and being tired and feeling crappy for blowing up at the hubby and being unhappy and feeling trapped and being tired. Maybe it’ll all blow over soon and I’ll go back to being a relatively rational person. When Dominic is sleeping in his own bed and I can sleep for an 8 hour stretch without being disturbed. So….. in about…. never.