Remember when you were a kid and the days and years dragged on? You felt like you had to wait forever to be old enough, big enough, wise enough to do anything. And then you blinked and you found yourself running like a crazy woman chasing your overly energetic toddler, trying to keep him away from the street, the lone pile of dog poo, the dead squirrel he sweetly refers to as a kitty (insert any other object he shouldn’t be near and he’s probably knee deep in) while nursing your infant with one hand as his head bobs up and down precariously (you assure yourself he’ll be OK, just a few scrambled brains never hurt anyone) as your nursing cover trails behind you in the wind, you lost one of your TOMS a hundred yards back, and your oh so sweet baby is no long nursing but looking curiously after big brother, your boob now fully exposed to the other patrons at the playground. This is motherhood. This is life, folks.
I used to have grand ideas of what motherhood would look like for me. Playdates with other well-behaved children laughing in my clean and organized living room, constructive play with homemade playdough where my brilliant toddler creates a realistic dinosaur at the ripe age of 2 and my infant coos and babbles, happily self-entertaining. Reality isn’t as neatly wrapped up in a pretty bow. There are literally days where 2pm rolls around and I gawk at the clock wondering how I’ll survive another 3 hours before daddy gets home because I just realized I have yet to brush my teeth, half my hair is sticking up like a peacock in the back from a rough night of sleep (the downside to a pixie haircut), there’s spitup down my shirt and remnants of sweet potato puree all over my yoga pants. I just realized there’s a rouge piece of Jackson’s cheese stuck in my hair, I really have to pee but the baby screams every time I put him down (teething) and I just got the toddler to go to sleep. I forgot about my sandwich in the toaster and it’s now a pile of ham and cheese smashed between sad looking black toast. Nothing a chug of water can’t cure. I look at the pile of dishes in the sink, the clean ones in the dishwasher itching to be put away and the 9 loads of freshly laundered clothes scattered over every itch of our place that no one has time to fold, or put away. Instead we’ve found this pretty sweet system of sifting through the baskets every morning in search of what we need and pretending the rest of it will magically fold itself. If only. I’ve been up since 3am and I have no idea what I’ve accomplished in the past 11 hours. Surely I’ve accomplished something. Right?
Basically, life is crazy with two kids two and under. It’s a constant 3 ring circus of dirty diapers and failed attempts of potty training that end in a half naked toddler running around the house threatening to mark his territory anywhere but in the potty. Someone always needs to be fed. To go to sleep. Just woke up. Needs to be changed. Needs a shower. Needs to be entertained. Needs something. At the end of the day I collapse into our king sized bed feeling like a rockstar for keeping the kids alive. I deserve a medal! And a full night’s sleep. And then, the baby cries. And life begins all over again.
It’s the most amazing job I’ll ever hold and the most exhausting. I feel blessed to be in the midst of such chaos because I truly love my children and think being their mother is the best gift in the world. It tests me every day in my patience, resilience, stamina, strength, love and caffeination. So here’s what life looks like lately. In all it’s filtered glory. Thank God for Instagram and it’s uncanny ability to conceal eye circles and tantrums replacing them with beautiful snapshots that make your life seem effortlessly together.
Awww they love each other! Reality: Jackson was having a meltdown so Bryan put Andrew on him in an attempt to distract him from his tiny world falling apart. Approximately .2 seconds later he was screaming in his poor brother’s face which prompted Andrew to puke all over big brother. Payback.
Look at that stylish kid strutting his stuff eating an ice cream, without a single bit on his shirt! Reality: He wore 99% of it by the time we got home. He was having a massive meltdown and refused to walk home because he wanted to be in the single stroller that Andrew was in, even though he hates being tied down. We stumbled upon an ice cream truck where I patted myself on the back for remembering to pack my wallet, told him to choose any sugar bomb he wanted and proceeded to teach him to take candy from strangers in the back of their box truck.
Could there be any cuter kids in the world? I think not. Reality: I’m dancing around, making ridiculous faces, sweat dripping from just finishing a run in a sad attempt to get both of them to stop screaming so I can have 2 minutes to get our buick back into the house.
Nature is beautiful. Reality: And almost distracts from the toddler meltdown taking place in the background. JACKSON! Get off that rock! Did you just faceplant? It’s ok. A little blood never hurt anyone. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
Teaching baby brother how to crawl. Reality: Stealing baby brother’s incentive to crawl then marching around in a circle around him threatening to step on him if he doesn’t start crawling.
So refreshed after an afternoon nap. Reality: If I stick him here and take a few selfies maybe I won’t have to get up for another minute or so. So tired. Who wants to play a game? It’s called doctor. Mama is the coma patient. Don’t wake her.
We love to be outdoors. My son is incredibly adventurous and look how beautiful our world is! Reality: Daddy accidentally went to work with both pairs of toddler shoes in the back of the truck so we were pretty limited on what we could do barefoot. It’s also approximately 100 degrees outside and 245% humidity. I need water. Jackson, don’t eat that rock! Did you just step on glass? When was your last tetnus shot? This totally counts as a bath.
Boys. Obsessed with tractors, trucks and anything that moves. Reality: “Tractor! Tractor! Tractor! Tractor! Tractor! Tractor! Tractor!” If you shut up and stop saying tractor we can watch the damn tractors.
Oh dear god I die of the cuteness that is this child. I am in love. Reality: I’m in love. And especially so since I get the easy going smiling infant while Daddy is currently chasing big brother all around the store to keep him from breaking everything. I’m also pretending I don’t know that maniac. Justkidding.
So that’s our life lately. We tend to spend all morning outside after breakfast, come home for smoothies and naps, wake up for lunch and go for an afternoon walk to kill time and energy before daddy gets home.