An Undisciplined Mommy

For some time now, I have been mulling over a response to my somewhat new role as wife and mother. Well, I guess after two years of marriage and our daughter turning one, and having our son, the role for me isn't as new as I thought it was. We got married while I was finishing up my last few semesters at CSU Chico. We had decided before we were married that I was to stay home and be a housewife, a position that I desperately yearned for, especially since I had an arm which had gotten so bad after 10 years of cutting hair, I was told that I could no longer do the work I had trained hard for. After we got married, I moved in and took the job as housewife very seriously. My sister and I had been raised by our mom, who worked long hours as a nursing student, then as an LVN and later an RN. We learned what we needed to know about house work and cooking by our mom showing us, and then we were on our own to take care of the house while she was working. So, being raised by a single mom, actually taught me a lot about house hold management, it also embedded a deep desire to be at home with my kids as my mom was unable to be for us.

At first, (and if you ask Aaron, he might have a different recollection of our brief life before kids), I was able to go to school in the morning, be home by the afternoon, do homework and clean the house with the ultimate goal of having dinner on the table for him when he got off work. For some strange reason, that was one of the most important things in my life, having dinner ready and on the table for my husband when he got home from work. Now, in a perfect world, you might not see what the problem was with that, but you see, my husband works on salary, which means, you work until your done. You don't get the luxury of just clocking out when you've served your eight hours. This was the major conflict for the first several months of our first year together. Dinner would be ready, I would be ready, the house would be ready, but without fail, at 6:30 instead of my man being home, I would get a phone call. Did I mention, I like to yell? And sulk?

Slowly I began to realize these stringent ideas and beliefs I had weren't conducive to my well-being, and certainly not for my husband's well-being. I was striving for some sense of perfection. What got me to see I was drowning were the two pink lines. For weeks I felt like my body was full of lead, I couldn't move, and I couldn't stay awake. Shortly after Mothers Day, I got the news, I was now a Mommy too. Because of the pregnancy, I couldn't do everything I thought I needed to do. The house began to get messy, the laundry piled up, so did the dishes. My husband had to relinquish the roles he thought we were both meant to fulfill, him going off to work all day, me staying home, being the dutiful housewife. My sweet man had to take up both roles. He would go to work all day, then come home with dinner and do the dishes or a load of laundry. How unfair for him. I hated it. I resented it and I felt so incredibly guilty that I wasn't a good wife.

As soon as I was able to function (after the first three months), I began to tackle the role of wife, again. However, I would let little things slide. I wasn't scrubbing the house down everyday, I'd let the clothes accumulate until we had no more clean undies, but at least I was cooking dinner again, and packing his lunch. I thought that somehow, after Ava was born, it would be different, I just had to get back into the swing of things. The house would be cleaner, the clothes washed, folded and put away and there would never, ever be more then two dirty dishes in the sink at a given time. (Yes, please feel free to laugh, as I write this I realize how stupid I really was). But, I tried. I tried with all I had to make everything perfect. I tried to do everything, all by myself with an infant that I was determined to not get in my way.

My daughter witnessed me mentally break down. We were in the kitchen, she in her bouncy and I in front of the stove trying to do it all, while she screamed and cried because all she wanted was mommy, and all mommy wanted was to do everything, which meant not having her daughter need her. She screamed and cried, I screamed and cried and my most precious gift in the world was terrified, she was terrified of me. As I looked in her wide, tear flooded eyes, I...I finally got it. Through all the shame, pride, guilt, and sorrow, I got it. My only job is to take care of my family, my husband, my children. The people God has created for me, and me for them. That is my only calling; not scrubbing the kitchen floor, not having a three course dinner on the table waiting for my husband. My job is to hold my daughter when she needs me.

I hate that it took me so long to understand what it means to be a housewife, I hate that I didn't learn the lesson sooner, when I was pregnant. And after I had posted a blog of my shame and failure as a mommy, my friend Laurie, gave me such beautiful words of advice and encouragement. I will always treasure them.

So, I sat down and thought hard about how I was going to continue to care for my family, first, then the house. How can I try to combine the two in a way that I am not overwhelmed and that my children can have my full attention when they need it? I made a list, and a chart. I love making lists!! I think that might be the teacher in me, the part who loves office supplies and making even the simplest task into a project. I broke down the five day work week into separate days, each day I would do "two" chores and lined them up so I have variety and flow. This is what I came up with:

Monday: Bedrooms & ALL laundry
Tuesday: Kitchen & ALL sweeping
Wednesday: Bathroom & ALL moping
Thursday: Front room & ALL dusting
Friday: Dining room & ALL vacuuming

Well, it's Monday and yes, there is a load of laundry in the wash, and another one in line. I couldn't get to the kids' room before Ava's morning nap so I'll move on to our room and hopefully I can get it done, or mostly done before we have to leave for an appointment this afternoon. I pray that I can keep up with this new plan, well, it's not so new. I wrote it when I was first pregnant with Baxter and am now just beginning to tackle it, so, we'll see how it goes but for now, I have a diaper to change and an infant to feed.

When Your Husband is Sneaking Around on the Internet...

You don't expect him to be setting up a Facebook page for you.

I'm still not totally convinced that I wanted one...

It's Like AA

I've quickly realized that having two little ones (17 months old and 17 days old), I must take things one day at a time. One long, long day at a time. I must admit, however, that things aren't as bad as I had previously thought they would be. I found that I can easily lug both kids up and down the stairs at the same time without dropping either them or my mocha's. Ava even seems born to be a big sister, running to Baxter's side when he cries, giving him his binkie or her blankies (she doesn't even let mommy cuddle with her blankies!)

There are several things I have had to rethink how I do them. Baxter's like his big sister in that when she was itty bitty, all she wanted was to be held and cuddled. Ava wouldn't fall asleep during the day unless we both laid on the couch and cuddled together. This posed a little problem because when I lay down with Baxter, Ava needs to be cuddled with too, and my couch is on the small side, but Ava has managed to find a little nook for herself in the crook of my knees. Another major snag is feeding time. Baxter hasn't gained weight, he's gained length, but not pounds and ounces. After his Doctor appointment, we were sent to see a lactation consultant. If after going through the whole pregnancy, labor and delivery thing, you still clung onto some modesty, you can pretty much kiss it goodbye when you see a lactation consultant. She said everything looked good, gave me some pointers and said she knew what the problem was: I was too busy. My hands are too full with chasing Ava around to take the time necessary for Baxter to get his two ounces each feeding in order for him to gain weight. I might have to trap Ava in her room behind the baby gate.

I think one of the last big changes I've had to make was in my cleaning and cooking schedule. I used to clean up the house while Ava slept, but now it seems like the best time to pick up is after dinner and make Aaron's lunch before I go to bed, instead of in the morning. There isn't really much for me to complain about, I think that if I didn't have the major headache I get postpartum which lasts for about 6 weeks straight, I could handle this new life with a touch more grace then I currently am. But, really, I love it. I love being a mom and my kids are so amazing!

The Guilt Still Lingers

At first, all I could think of was how fun babies are, how easy it was for me to give birth. I wanted another baby. It didn't take long before we were pregnant and at first, I was in a kind of float-y, sparkl-y daze. I was feeling like I had finally achieved adulthood (and it only took me 30 years).
But then, I looked at my daughter. Really looked at her and waited in the moment we were sharing, enjoying every slow second of it, lingering in her laughter and as quickly as the moment between mother and daughter came; the heavy guilt sunk in. From that moment on I became more aware of the reality that I would no longer be all Ava's. I tried to justify my selfishness in wanting another child by telling myself I was doing it for her, I was giving Ava a sibling, a playmate, a best friend. It seemed that the more I repeated this to myself, the bigger my guilt grew. I had now taken the one on one intimacy I shared with my baby girl and replaced it with only fifty percent of what it was. I asked almost every mom I knew with more then one kid how they felt when they had another child. All just smiled and said: 'You're doing them a favor. You're giving them a friend to play with and you a chance to breath while they play together and not need all your time.'

This did not help. I felt even more guilt and emotion because I just could not see it that way. I had given up. It wasn't until I was getting my haircut, my stylist had two kids and recently found out she was pregnant with twins. She knew I had Ava and we started talking about due dates and names when all of a sudden she looked at me and asked if I felt guilty for taking part of me away from Ava and sharing it with another baby. She understood, she felt the same way when she had her second child, and even more so now that she was having twins.

I LOVE my children, both of them. I am slowly adjusting to splitting myself between two kids instead of giving myself to one. It is more difficult then I could have ever imagined. I sometimes look at Ava and see her as someone I have to protect Baxter from, and it seems all we've said to her since we came home from the hospital was "Ava, NO!" It's those moments where she is transformed from being my baby girl to a danger. I hate that, it breaks my heart to see her as someone other then my itty bitty. Aaron and I both make more of an effort to hug and love on Mava. I try to continue to have our morning cuddle time, but it just doesn't seem like it's enough. I'm hoping it will get easier.