*Warning* This post may contain more talk of body excrement than you want to hear about.
Today was my first morning on my own with the babes.
Sure, women all over the world have 2, (or more) kids under 2. I can’t imagine more than what I have. At the moment. With this small age difference anyways.
I know it will get better, it was just my first day – but good gravy t’was was a doozey.
Thinking I could have a quick shower while Lil’ Abner had her morning nap, (not that she’s on a schedule yet or anything, but y’know – I thought I’d try and be less smelly) and Wyndham happily watched Yo Gabba Gabba in his highchair, things turned side-show.
Although I had the scene set; bathroom door open, revolving medicine cabinet mirrors angled so I could keep an eye on Wyndham and the baby monitor on the counter..disaster still struck.
In the few moments I closed my eyes to wash my face, a huge *CRASH* came from Wyndham’s direction. Somehow, he maneuvered the solid wood tray off of his highchair to kiss the floor. Metal sliders underneath taking a few gouges out of the floor. Superb. At the same time he decided to stand in the said chair while little Abby got her wail on. Huge desperate wails. Like OMG, mom come NOW, tears.
Oh boy. Me, naked and wet, with shampoo in my hair could be seen by the fly on the wall running around haphazardly trying to take care of it all at once. Such grace, such a peaceful manner I did have about me – Oh yes.
Not to be deterred, we got out of the house (eventually), to go to one of our favourite parks. Only for some reason, Wyndham was not into it. For the first time ever. Usually he’ll go running straight from the sidewalk through the grassy tree filled field to greet the park with glee. Nope. Not today. He wanted to be carried, (rather hard to do with a carrier on), but I managed.
Our stay at the park was short. There was more wailing, much peeing and pooping and soaking through clothing, everyone decided to just have a party on mama’s nerves and go. To. Town.
Of course some random mail-woman chose to guffaw at me during this choice time, ‘well, they’re rather close in age – huh? Better you than me!’ Snort, chuckle, hardy-har. Pretty sure I didn’t contain my scowl back. What was she doing cutting through the park anyways. Phhthht. Find another shortcut lady with no skills of observance.
Ah, but I could drone on and on with more exciting tales of my epically soul-testing day. But I won’t – because somehow, even though my day closed with being puked on, peed on, spray pooped on (yep, breastmilk poo is the best for that.) – even though I am typing one handed because Abby has been cluster-feeding since 5pm., I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. Us moms are so weird. Thank goodness for dimples, toddler kisses and cuddles and a tiny newborn’s wonder.
Big, huge ,earth-shattering props to all you hard-working mama’s out there. But especially those with more than one child not yet knee high. Now, or once-upon-a-time. Seriously. You are my hero’s and will I ever get there? Without feeling like a blundering idiot praying for more patience please, every step of the way?
…also to be found carousing the Twitters.