So, I haven’t been posting too much lately. I could go into a whole bunch of reasons why, but the main reason? I am too damn tired. Seriously, oh my god tired. I can’t even tell you the number of times I have lost 5-10 minutes during my two ½- hour pumping sessions at work. I love my boys, but I don’t think that anyone told me that two was WAY more than double one. WAY more.
Don’t get me wrong. I actually have generally great kids. Will has adjusted better than to be expected to having a little brother and Henry for his part has cut back a little on the screaming and now has many different levels of expressing his displeasure with whatever the current situation is presenting him. My favorite is kind of a squawk/yell that is kind of like a cry but more of a “mom, mom, MOM! I AM NOT HAPPY” that comes before the actual full on scream. If you can catch him there things can usually be turned around somewhat easily.
But the tired? It makes me cranky. First it was the 3 1/2 month bout of insomnia. I could actually “reasonably” tolerate 2-3 hours of sleep in a 24 hour period because I didn’t have
that many obligations during the day during the week. I could cat nap with Henry and didn’t have to speak to people I didn’t want to. The tipping point came when I went back to work. Now, keep in mind, I actually like the people I work with and they have been amazingly generous, but I really don’t think I realized how much I was depending on those cat naps to keep me sane. This is not to diminish what I went through (or anyone else is going through) as a first time parent, but I am amazed at how much energy two children require. And with just one, if you are sleep deprived and cranky, you run the risk of being kind of a bitch to other adults. But with two? Let’s just say 3 ½ year olds have a knack for knowing when you are at your tiredest most not-like-yourself self and start pushing your buttons. This morning, Will and I had the most fantastically mature argument during negotiations of what was appropriate to wear to school (shorts and a tshirt – yes!, underpants only and his sword tied around his waist– no!) in which he finally told me not to put on my Angry Face, he didn’t like it and it wasn’t nice. And he’s right and more often that not the tired makes me act like the kind of parent I don’t want to be.
But the thing I am learning with that is that for me, not only do I think it’s ok to not always be the parent I want to be in front of my kids, I actually think it can be a good thing. I think it’s an opportunity for me to teach them that you don’t have to be perfect – and that if you screw up, it’s both ok and appropriate to acknowledge it and apologize for it. After Will and I had had a rough morning a couple of weeks ago I realized that I was just kind of being an asshole. So I went into his room and told him that I was sorry. Mommy was having a tough morning and he wasn’t doing anything wrong. It was my fault and I should have been a better listener. And he really heard what I was saying. And I asked him if he would forgive me and he smiled and said yes, gave me a kiss and ran out of the room to find his sword. And for me? I think that felt a little bit more like the parent I want to be than if I had just done it perfect the first time.
