We've got a situation...: December 2012

I've realized from looking around at the playgroup and music class Alex and I go to that most moms aren't as bat shit crazy as I am for having two kids under two. Most of them with kids my sons age are just getting little bellies now or talking about starting to try for a second child. I have a 22mo old and a 2mo old. The first month flew by (thanks to my BFF lindsay for flying in and keeping me sane) ....and then the temperature dropped. It's northeast cold outside. Whole different game. Alex learned the word 'no'. Whole different game especially since it also apparently means yes. In the past 2 months I haven't slept more than 3 hours uninterrupted and I also haven't slept in a bed. I haven't had one day with more than 5 hours of total sleep. I'm in a cloud of blur every minute. It's like always being burnt out and never getting good and stoned. So getting these little monsters ready to go out takes complete military precision. How the HELL does Angelina Jolie do it? I'm sure she doesn't have a dresser just to put coats, hats, gloves, pack a bottle, remember pacifier, take a snack,a favorite toy.. for her 10 kids every single time they have to go outside in cool climates. Or does she?? But seriously. Holy shit. I get myself dressed and ready first so that I'm sweating balls in my sweater in this over pumping steam heated apartment. I get Dylan bundled and into the bjorn carrier. Then I go get Alex and he's pooping in the bedroom. He finishes. I take Dylan out of the carrier and lay him in his bassinet, still bundled. Alex gets changed. I look over and Dylan's just spit up a puddle. I put Alex's coat, hat, and gloves on while performing an over the top song and a bit of bribing to get this to go smoothly. He gets a bottle of milk and a bag of animal crackers. I go to get Dylan and wipe his neck clean and guess what? He's freaking pooped. I go to change him and more poop comes out, and it keeps flowing like the god damn Nile, and of course finishes with me getting pissed on. I switch on Thomas the Train, keeping Alex happy, wipe my sweater, grab Dylan a new outfit, get it on him, bundle him up, back in the carrier, turn off Thomas and off we go! By the time we get to the corner I am in serious need of a cocktail and I worry if I am the only mom dreaming about drinking alone in a dark bar at noon. And it's always something. I love hanging out with my babies. They are the best thing that could have ever happened to me. I am challenged hourly by them and am overall very greatful that I had zero experience ever with kids because I probably would never ever have had one nevermind two. There is nothing worse than a know-it-all mom who panicks when it's her kid she can't figure out. And I see that ALL of the time. I at least babble, "Well I have no idea what the hell I'm doing as I am still new to this job" to every doctor, early intervention evaluator, swim instructor, music class teacher that I've encountered regarding my kids. And it is always something. Dylan has torticollis which I was like, "Um are you saying he is part turtle?" He got his big head in a funny position in my belly that did something to his neck muscle that gave him a tilted head, which makes him favor one side, which he then flattened that side of his head against some bones down in my you-know-what. So he's getting evaluated for physical therapy in home and probably will have to get a helmet molded to his head for a few months to reconstruct his head. I have severe post-partum thyroiditis which you wouldn't want to know what the hell it is if you want to consider having children one day, a sprained index finger from lifting Alex during a meltdown, and something annoyingly out of whack with a knee. Alex doesn't talk so his doctor also had him evaluated the other day by the NY State early intervention program for speech delays. He not only doesn't qualify but he tested on a 3year old+ level in comprehention. Today he pulled me into the kitchen for a cookie. I gave him an oreo and he said "no" and put his hands up so I could pick him up and he could show me exactly what he wanted. He panned his little hands around my pantry, found my empty cookie tin, and cried because it was empty. That's where I store my homemade cookies that I clearly haven't made in two months. He wants them NOW? Like what the hell made him think of this?? After a few tears he settled for a fruit cup, kiss, and a promise that the cookies were coming but he had to wait till after his nap. Shit. I had a laundry list of things to do during nap time and making cookies was the last thing I felt like doing first. But I did it. I whipped em out like Betty fucking Crocker herself and put them in the tin and hid the tin in the back of the pantry where it belongs. Hidden. If he woke up and asked for them that would be very interesting and if not I'd surprise him after dinner. Sure enough Alex woke up and as soon as his little feet hit the ground he took my hand, pulled me like a dog into the kitchen, arms up, finger pointing and he directed a brand new word: "MINE" at the cookie tin. Forget comprehending on a 3yr old level; this kid comprehends more than my 42yr old husband!