While my children are both true gifts, they have tested every ounce of patience within me. I honestly didn't know I had this much patience, and I am pretty sure I didn't until they came along.
Between Noah teething and Elijah hitting the tantrum stage head-on, it has been non-stop crying, screaming, whining and wailing....and also the kids were loud.
Even now, as I write this, the time out corner (well-worn from use) holds a screaming toddler begging to come out.
It's hard to explain this mom-fog I'm in. When the house is trashed, there's nothing in the fridge and the clothes are all dirty it's pretty easy to wonder what in the world I did all day? Heck, most days I wonder that myself. But I live in a kind of mythical world. A world of bruised knees and noisy firetrucks. A world of macaroni-covered floors, and land-fill sized diaper mounds.
In this mythical world it's amazing what miraculous talents I acquire as I rock and console one child, and encourage and teach language to the other, all while picking up what I can off the floor and wiping a combination of peanut butter, boogers and baby puke off of my clothes. This is my world. And try as I may to explain it to those who have not entered this world, or do not live in it fulltime, I find myself realizing that it is not something that can be explained. It's something that can only be experienced.
Each day I wonder if I'm doing the right thing, if I'm gaining any ground, or if anyone is even out there on the other side of these lonely walls? For while it is these walls that protect me, and keep me safe and comfortable it is also these walls that confine me and make the noise and chaos around me even more noticable.
My only comfort is my trench-buddies. The other mothers out there who've been through war, and continue to crawl through the mud each day. We are bonded in a way no one else can really understand. I take comfort in knowing that though I cannot always see them, I know they are behind their walls fighting their daily battles just like me. My comrades in arms.
It's a crazy thing this motherhood. It stretches your abilities, tests your limits, puts an incredible amount of pressure on you. And just when you feel like you might totally crack under pressure and lose it, just when you're hanging on by that tiny chord dangling over a ravine, you see their tiny smiles or hear their boisterous laughs and it reminds you exactly why you're on this ledge.
4 comments:
Hang in there, Erin! I can totally understand how you feel and I just have one child. :) It will get better! Once Halie hit 2.5, things got so much easier. She's using the potty and napping and going to bed at regular times. It's wonderful, you will be there very soon too. :) Also, we've found that praying with her after timeouts really has helped her to stop bad behavior (ie, hitting, throwing, etc.). Let me know if you ever need anything!
OK, can I just copy and paste this entire blog entry, slap my own picture on it and say it's mine? It SO describes how I feel too.
By the way, you're an awesome mommy and such an awesome friend.
WOW-well said and well written! You are right there is no way to get a non mother to understand the extreme lows and extreme highs of being a parent. Teething and tantrums sounds like a terrible combination, and an onslaught on one's sanity. Wish I could just stop by with Starbucks, give you a hug, and then babysit while you take a much needed break. Instead I will be praying for you, and trying to encouraging you with saying "Erin, you are one of the moms I admire the most. And I know that in 20 years your boys are going to be the type of men that this world needs most."
Yesterday Jay decided he wanted to go see a movie, and leave me with Steiger. The dog decided to walk in poop outside, and then bring it through the house, and she was vomiting.
Steiger skipped his afternoon nap ('nough said).
I could have used this post yesterday. :)
And you're right -- we're in this together. We might be on the ledge, but we're keeping the next generation from going under.
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