Warning: I’m going to be frank. So, yeah, get over it.
When it finally sank in that we were going to have another child, I think I assumed the house would feel fuller and more alive. Instead it feels pretty empty. I feel ground down. I’m constantly taking care of someone else. When I do take time for myself it’s to take a shower. I’ve never gone without makeup this much. Whenever I have time to swipe on some concealer and mascara I think, “Whoever is lucky enough to see me today better feel pretty damn special. I’m putting on makeup.” Ditto for real jeans instead of yoga pants. Do not tempt me with your pajama jeans. I will cave.
Some of the worst times are when I’m running myself ragged trying to get everything done and Pint-size gets up, walks over to me, crosses his arms and purposefully sticks out his leg and taps his foot, “Aren’t you forgetting something?” and has this smug little look on his face. Some moms I’m sure would think it’s the cutest thing in the world. It makes me want to… I don’t know…go to Disneyland.
I’ve always felt like having a baby is a pretty lonely place to be, especially in America. A friend of mine told me that in India the new mom-to-be moves back in with her mom and dad three months before the baby is born and stays with them until the baby is about three months old. In the US it’s like we say, “I need my space, leave me alone!” Seriously, think of some of your friends, it’s probably not uncommon for them to be hundreds of miles away from their parents and any support. We, personally, live at least 50 miles from both sets of parents. Every time we go see them it’s like packing for the Oregon trail. And considering how many times we’ve gotten sick these past couple of months (and sometimes centered around our visits) I wouldn’t be surprised if we got dysentery.
I know there are other moms out there who feel the same way I do. Keeping a 5 year-old from picking his nose, a 7 month-old from eating the kleenex box, coaxing Pint-size to eat his veggies, trying to get BabyGirl to sleep through the night again. I feel like I’m fighting an avalanche. Everything is beating down on me and is determined to be the victor. I’m not defeatist. I’m not being whiny. Well, maybe a little whiny. I just hope there are other moms out there who think, as their child is dancing around and whacking himself in the head with a whoopie cushion, that they just can’t seem to catch a break. That maybe, just maybe, God slipped in some Cosmo DNA.