family, parenthood

Expectations VS Reality

I’m following someone from my past who just recently had a baby. She had a difficult birth and since her first wasn’t the ideal birth she envisioned, the second was a bit harder to handle it seems since she had all these expectations of what and how she wanted it to be the second time around. She’s very much immersed into the whole motherhood and body thing where she’s all about being in tune with her body during her whole pregnancy and is very into the whole natural birthing wonder of the human body. Her baby had some difficulty after birth and had to spend a few weeks in the NICU. I know she’s probably just venting on Facebook, a space where she’s surrounded by friends and family and a wonderful support group, but as an acquaintance who also went through some difficulty after birth, it’s a tad frustrating to read through these comments of what she thought things would be like and how they are supposed to be and how disappointed and frustrated she is with reality. Like, we get it. You can’t spend the time you want with your older son in this beautiful weather because your little one is taking up so much of your time. I get what it’s like to be cooped up at home and not get some fresh air because you’re just busy with a baby whose sole mission in its little life so far is to make you miserable and hate yourself with inconsolable crying. I get that life was difficult and disappointing and nothing like you imagined it when your baby was in the NICU and whisked away from you after birth. BUT YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONE. I think I’m more sensitive to her postings because I went through it too, but never venting about it on Facebook and only a few close people know about Shane and his struggles. I think I’m just annoyed because I feel as though she has all these expectations about how motherhood should be – the adorable hours of intoxicating baby smells and cuddles, the dreamy closeness you get when you’re breastfeeding, and the magical feeling you get when you’re baby wearing and able to function in public with the use of both your hands. BUT THESE ARE NOT EVEN REAL EXPECTATIONS. THESE ARE EXPECTATIONS CULTIVATED BY THE MEDIA AND SOCIETY. YOU AREN’T DOING ANYTHING WRONG IF YOU’RE SPENDING DAYS AT HOME WITHOUT SHOWERING BECAUSE YOUR BABY WON’T STOP CRYING FOR LONGER THAN 10 MINUTES IN STRETCHES OF HOURS. YOU’RE NOT GOING TO MISS OUT ON BONDING MOMENTS IF YOU DON’T BREASTFEED. YOU DON’T NEED TO FEEL LIKE SHIT IF YOU PUT YOUR OLDER CHILD UP IN FRONT OF A TV WHEN YOU’RE CARING FOR A BABY OR IF YOUR CHILD FALLS IN THE PLAYGROUND AND YOU’RE NOT THERE IN TWO SECONDS TO PICK HIM UP BECAUSE YOUR HANDS ARE FULL WITH ANOTHER BABY. YOU’RE NOT A FAILURE BECAUSE OF ANY OF THIS. WE’RE ALL JUST SURVIVING. WE’RE ALL JUST TRYING TO GET AS MUCH SLEEP AS WE CAN WHILE WE TRY TO FIND OURSELVES IN THIS NEW ROLE AS A MOTHER (OF MULTIPLES). WE’RE ALL TRYING TO FIND A SWEET SPOT WHERE WE TEETER ON THE BRINK OF HAPPINESS/SANITY AND COMPLETE, UTTER MADNESS.

I’m just tired. And annoyed.
All I really have to do is UNFOLLOW.

I am actually really happy for her. She has a wonderful social media following and feels comfortable enough to share all her worries on her page. Some days I wish I had that. Others, I am just grateful for the support system I have now.

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family, parenthood

Different Day, Similar Shit

Wake up. See who’s awake (spoiler – most days, both are). Check diapers. Change diapers. Shower. Bring babies down. Bottles. TV show of the day (Cat in the Hat, Octonauts, Phineas and Ferb). Make coffee. Drink coffee. Sift through emails and go through voicemails for work. Snack / lunch (bananas, cheese, sandwich, more milk, yogurt). NAPS. I get some work and paperwork and organizing of the life done. Then – home stretch – the grandparents and the daddy come home. Dinner. Bath. Mosey until bedtime.

MODIFIED SCHEDULE:
INSTEAD OF NAPS… Now, Dom naps while Shane rolls around the couch and living room munching on some snacks while half watching a TV show. Eventually his random shouts of excitement wake Dom up who in turn is brought downstairs if I am unable to put him back to sleep. Shane is left upstairs to nap. After a few minutes of protesting and crying, he goes quiet and passes out. Dom then is left to run around the living room requiring my constant attention until Shane eventually wakes up. Then both are rolling around the living room cranky and upset because they are both tired.
INSTEAD OF SMOOTH BATH TIMES… Since we have begun the exciting adventure of potty training, there have been multiple accidents in the potty both from the young one and the one we are attempting to potty train. Thus draining of the water, cleaning of the tub, rinsing of the babies, and re-filling the tub has been a frequent process.

Literally the same fights, the same conversations, the same everything. Just different days. Slightly different adventures. I’m just so freaking tired of repeating myself over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. And, yes, I know they’re just kids and that’s my job as a parent to reinforce the same things over and over and over again since that is how they learn. But I’m seriously losing my freaking mind. How many more days do I have to say “Toothbrush is for brushing teeth, not toilet” and “No kicking Mommy during diaper time”? I’m so over it most days. There is no coffee strong enough to fuel this shit.

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family

Supernatural!

Season 11 is on Netflix!

I was an exhausted, frustrated mother and wife today. Hubby told me he needed to be on early today and I still snapped at him. Baby Dom is getting over a cold. Baby Shane is getting a cold. Both are ridiculously needy and want to be held. I’m just tired of being a climbing gym and constantly watching these babies all day from 8am to 1am. The latter part of this week has been a nightmare in terms of Dom’s sleeping patterns.

I want to be a better mother this year. I want to be a better wife. I want to be a better daughter. I am going to keep my official resolutions list relatively quiet since this year I’m surrendering. All my plans are futile. All my planning is futile. The only plan that matters is what He has planned for me. And I rejoice in His way. I feel like I am too much a part of this world. I want to empty myself and be a vessel for joy and love. His joy and love. We’ll see how this goes.

In the meantime, let me watch some Supernatural in the few precious minutes baby Dom is sleeping and shove a mini pizza down my throat while I sip Coke out of a wine glass. Hashtag – #Classy.

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