Yep, that's the only way to describe our lives right now. If you know anything about me, you know I love routine. I thrive on having a schedule. I like things to go according to plan.
I lost a little bit of this when Lyla was born. After a while we got it together and figured out a new kind of routine. But we still had one. Welp. Those days are over.
Caroline is five months old already and we still can't get our act together. From sun up to sun down is complete chaos. All schedules have been thrown out the window. The house is destroyed. We don't sleep. Caroline still can't decide if she wants to sleep through the night or party all night long.
You'd think after a long day of crazy town I'd, like most parents, really look forward to bedtime. Nope. Bedtime has now become an absolute nightmare. I was always worried about one of them waking up the other so we tried to put them down at the same time. What ended up happening is I would take care of Lyla and Eric would take Caroline. After a while I felt like I was missing out of the same special time I had with Lyla right before bed. So we started switching every other night. Lyla was NOT a fan. She loves her mama and only wanted me to put her to bed. Before we knew it, the bedtime routine became an hour long ordeal with Lyla. All the while, Caroline was screaming her brains out. Even after half-assed attempt at sleep training, she just won't settle down an night. Most nights she screams anywhere from 45 minutes - 2 hours.
It heart-wrenching, exhausting, frustrating, you name it. While Caroline cries, Lyla wants a book read, her back rubbed, a song sang, her lippy on, her pillows fixed, her dolls and animals all lined up perfectly in her bed, to jump one last time, only certain blankets...the list goes on and on. Just when you think you can't take it anymore she says, "Night-night, love you, too doo loo". Come on!
By the time it is over, I decide not to clean my disgusting house, workout or do laundry. Instead I crash into bed, waiting for my next wake up call...that comes sooner than I'd like. Here's an example of our schedule right now (on a work day):
5:30am - Alarm goes off for work (me, not Eric)
5:45am-Lyla wakes up and cries as I turn on the shower
6:15am - Wake up Caroline for bottle
6:30am - Chase Lyla to get dressed
6:45am - Leave house for Chris'
7:30am - Enjoy some quiet time on the way to work
8:00am - Work
5:45pm (if I am lucky) - Home from work
5:50pm - Feed Lyla and maybe Eric and I too
6:15pm - Play
6:30pm - Bath time (yes, on work nights I only have time to play for 15 minutes)
7:00pm - Pj's for LL, Bottle for CC
7:15pm - 8:30pm - Bedtime Nightmare ensues
8:30pm - Eric and I have our nightly pep talk, "It will get better"
8:45pm - Mommy goes to sleep
10:30pm - Caroline cries for bottle
1:00am - Lyla cries. She either cold, scared or having a dream
2:30am - Caroline cries for a bottle
3:30am- 4:15am - Eric's alarm goes off every 8 minutes
4:15am - 5:00am - I lay awake thinking Caroline is about to wake up.
5:30am - Alarm goes off for work. Here we go again.
It's true. This is just a phase. Soon enough we'll be throwing homework and activities in the mix. Soon enough they'll be sleeping until I have to wake them up at noon. Soon enough I'll come home to a quiet house and Eric and I will eat our dinner and then wonder what to do with our night. I will long for these days. That fact is not lost on me. For now, I'll take advantage of the quiet time I get with Caroline in the middle of the night and stock up on caffeine during the day.
The Artist Formerly Known as Megan
This post is a tough one. I struggled as to whether or not to write it but here goes. My baby is four months old and I am still struggling, emotionally. Sure, the worst of it is over, but I still have lingering feelings of just not being back to myself. I think this time, these feelings are lasting a little bit longer. Yes, I love being a mom, but I often feel like there is nothing left of the Megan I was. Nothing.
I don't sleep. I can't pee in private. I never leave the house. My kids dictate every single move I make.
The nights I work are the worst. I spend most of those nights feeding kids, struggling to pay attention to both (Caroline usually gets screwed on that one), fighting about bedtime and then sitting in Caroline's room for two hours while she cries.
Many of those nights I just sit there and feel sorry for myself. I will never be the same again. I feel like I am not fun anymore. I feel like I don't get excited for anything anymore because just when I think I might try to get back some of that old Megan, a kid gets sick and my plans change. I even emailed Catherine at one point and and told her there was no use in trying to hang out until our kids were 18. I know, deep down, that my kids just need all of me at this point. Some day I might regret pushing everyone else away because, all too soon, my girls won't need me as much and I won't know what to do with my time. Basically I was having a pity party.
Now that the fog has lifted a bit, I realize how down in the dumps I really was. Conversations with Eric also confirmed this attitude. He was worried. Do we call it depression? Do I blame the hormones that are still trying to get back to normal? Do I blame the fact that it is winter and we haven't left the house other than to work? Who knows. What I do know is that it is normal. I need to find other ways to get a little bit of Megan back. Slowly but surely I see glimpses of her. The fact of the matter is, I will never be that Megan again. I am mom now. It took me a bit to realize that I can be both.
I don't sleep. I can't pee in private. I never leave the house. My kids dictate every single move I make.
The nights I work are the worst. I spend most of those nights feeding kids, struggling to pay attention to both (Caroline usually gets screwed on that one), fighting about bedtime and then sitting in Caroline's room for two hours while she cries.
Many of those nights I just sit there and feel sorry for myself. I will never be the same again. I feel like I am not fun anymore. I feel like I don't get excited for anything anymore because just when I think I might try to get back some of that old Megan, a kid gets sick and my plans change. I even emailed Catherine at one point and and told her there was no use in trying to hang out until our kids were 18. I know, deep down, that my kids just need all of me at this point. Some day I might regret pushing everyone else away because, all too soon, my girls won't need me as much and I won't know what to do with my time. Basically I was having a pity party.
Now that the fog has lifted a bit, I realize how down in the dumps I really was. Conversations with Eric also confirmed this attitude. He was worried. Do we call it depression? Do I blame the hormones that are still trying to get back to normal? Do I blame the fact that it is winter and we haven't left the house other than to work? Who knows. What I do know is that it is normal. I need to find other ways to get a little bit of Megan back. Slowly but surely I see glimpses of her. The fact of the matter is, I will never be that Megan again. I am mom now. It took me a bit to realize that I can be both.
4(ish) Months In
I've come to the conclusion that 4 months old might be my favorite age. Caroline is really starting to show her personality and let me tell you, she is the sweetest thing you'll ever meet. And I am not just saying that because I am her mom :) She is a pretty laid back kid and her smiles are plentiful. I mean, one look at her and she just lights up. While she is fun at this age, she is also not mobile yet...which I why I think it is my favorite. Here are some four month stats.
Weight: 14lbs. 6 oz.
I still call her my little hubba bubba. Her cheeks make her appear to be a big baby, but she is right on track and in the 50th percentile.
Eating: We've finally started to sink into a little bit of an eating routine She generally takes about 6 ounces 5x a day. Spit up is still an issue, but I barely even notice anymore.
Sleeping: Still a disaster. Most nights it still takes quite a while for her to calm down and relax. We tried the whole bedtime routine with books, songs, quiet time, but the minute you put her in that crib she starts screaming, sometimes up to two hours. A lot of the time, I just sit in her room and making "shushing" sounds but to no avail. Not even the dreaded sound machine can calm her. There is, however, a silver lining. Once she finally falls asleep, she stays that way for about 13 hours. Whoot whoot!
Milestones: Just like her sister, she's rolled over once at this point. It came to her pretty easily but now refuses to do it again. In her defense, she doesn't get much tummy time as our tiny house and her hyper-active sister don't allow for much of that. It's something we will work on, but I am not going to encourage much mobility at this point, after all, I know the chaos that comes with a mobile baby.
New Nickname: She has many, but we just recently started calling her Julie Drooly. This kid drools like crazy. I wasn't expecting teeth so early but between the drool and the constant gnawing on her hands, those little white nubs may make an appearance sooner than expected.
Weight: 14lbs. 6 oz.
I still call her my little hubba bubba. Her cheeks make her appear to be a big baby, but she is right on track and in the 50th percentile.
Eating: We've finally started to sink into a little bit of an eating routine She generally takes about 6 ounces 5x a day. Spit up is still an issue, but I barely even notice anymore.
Sleeping: Still a disaster. Most nights it still takes quite a while for her to calm down and relax. We tried the whole bedtime routine with books, songs, quiet time, but the minute you put her in that crib she starts screaming, sometimes up to two hours. A lot of the time, I just sit in her room and making "shushing" sounds but to no avail. Not even the dreaded sound machine can calm her. There is, however, a silver lining. Once she finally falls asleep, she stays that way for about 13 hours. Whoot whoot!
Milestones: Just like her sister, she's rolled over once at this point. It came to her pretty easily but now refuses to do it again. In her defense, she doesn't get much tummy time as our tiny house and her hyper-active sister don't allow for much of that. It's something we will work on, but I am not going to encourage much mobility at this point, after all, I know the chaos that comes with a mobile baby.
New Nickname: She has many, but we just recently started calling her Julie Drooly. This kid drools like crazy. I wasn't expecting teeth so early but between the drool and the constant gnawing on her hands, those little white nubs may make an appearance sooner than expected.
Parenthood
Parenthood is absolutely the most emotionally debilitating thing ever. For real. Some days I really feel like I have it all together. Most days I don't. It started the night we brought Lyla home and I've been a ball of anxiety ever since. At first I worried that something horrible would happen to her. Then I started to worry that something horrible would happen to me or Eric and she'd have to live with that. Since Caroline has been home, the feelings are totally overwhelming.
Each night I feel like I disappointed someone in some way. During the day I am fine, but during those late night feedings or in my down time after they are both in bed I start to really question myself, even feel sorry for myself that I don't have it all together. I feel like I worry so much about "getting through" the rough spots and I am going to blink and realize they weren't so bad after all.
I have ridiculous mom guilt. From the moment Caroline came home I've tried my very best to give Lyla just as much attention as I did before. Sometimes to a fault. Sometimes I feel like that hurt my bonding time with Caroline. In those first few weeks it felt like Lyla was mine and Caroline was Eric's. It upset me when people would say Caroline would be Eric's favorite (for the record, he never said it). Why do people feel the need to attach favorites? That makes me nuts. And made me even more obsessed to doting on Lyla in case she heard someone say it. But then on the other hand, I feel tremendous guilt that I don't get to spend enough one on one time with Caroline. I worry that in me trying to accomodate Lyla, CeCe is getting neglected in the process. Even when I do get to spend time with her, Lyla is right there in her face.
I compare being a mother of two to being a ping pong ball. Literally all day, you bounce back and forth between them trying to make everyone happy. Eric and I play pass the kids all evening. I don't know how single mothers do it with infants.
I know I am not alone in this. Every other mother I know feels the same way. I just honestly didn't think it would effect me so deeply and so physically. It hurts to be a mom.
Not really even sure what the point of this post is, but I felt the need to rant without a plan. So there.
Each night I feel like I disappointed someone in some way. During the day I am fine, but during those late night feedings or in my down time after they are both in bed I start to really question myself, even feel sorry for myself that I don't have it all together. I feel like I worry so much about "getting through" the rough spots and I am going to blink and realize they weren't so bad after all.
I have ridiculous mom guilt. From the moment Caroline came home I've tried my very best to give Lyla just as much attention as I did before. Sometimes to a fault. Sometimes I feel like that hurt my bonding time with Caroline. In those first few weeks it felt like Lyla was mine and Caroline was Eric's. It upset me when people would say Caroline would be Eric's favorite (for the record, he never said it). Why do people feel the need to attach favorites? That makes me nuts. And made me even more obsessed to doting on Lyla in case she heard someone say it. But then on the other hand, I feel tremendous guilt that I don't get to spend enough one on one time with Caroline. I worry that in me trying to accomodate Lyla, CeCe is getting neglected in the process. Even when I do get to spend time with her, Lyla is right there in her face.
I compare being a mother of two to being a ping pong ball. Literally all day, you bounce back and forth between them trying to make everyone happy. Eric and I play pass the kids all evening. I don't know how single mothers do it with infants.
I know I am not alone in this. Every other mother I know feels the same way. I just honestly didn't think it would effect me so deeply and so physically. It hurts to be a mom.
Not really even sure what the point of this post is, but I felt the need to rant without a plan. So there.
Back to Work
I've been thinking (dreading) about this day since Caroline was a day old. Tomorrow I go back to work, and everything I have worked to get in order for three months will be shot to shit.
When I was still pregnant, I wasn't exactly sure how long of a break I would take. Because I am part time, I do not get a partially paid maternity leave. I had to use my vacation days wisely. I estimated I could take about 10 weeks off and survive. I started thinking about this the day after Caroline was born. Every time I did, my stomach would drop and I would be a ball of anxiety. How could I possibly manage two kids, a household and a job? People do it all the time, but how could I do it? When people would ask when I was going back to work, I would just say around Thanksgiving and never really let myself look at a calendar and decide. When I finally had to, it just worked out with the holiday that I would go back the Monday after Thanksgiving. This meant I was able to spend 12 glorious weeks and home with my babies. More than most, so I couldn't complain.
Going back to work meant I would have to start showering on a regular basis again. It meant I couldn't wear my black comfy pants and blue hoodie for days at a time. It meant I had to wake my kids up two hours earlier than normal to get them out the door and to the sitters. It meant I now had to pay double for daycare. It meant I couldn't hang out with my girls all day. I am sad.
After Lyla, I think I was in such shock about how this baby changed my life, I almost looked forward to going back to work. I went back part time so I will still able to spend a lot of time with her, but it also meant I could have adult conversations again. I could eat lunch without interruption. I could pee in peace. I could maybe feel like myself for a few hours a day.
This time is much different. This time I am mom. Before, my life was work. Now my life is my babies. I didn't want to go back. I wanted to be mom. On maternity leave I had time for my household. My house was clean. My laundry was always done. My kids were content to hang out with me. We settled into a sort of controlled chaos. Now I will have to change all that. Start a new routine. One I was forced into.
Will I cry tomorrow? Maybe. Will Eric cry on his first day alone with two babes? Likely. Fact is it has to happen. It will take some adjustment, but soon enough I know we'll get the hang out. But for tonight...the night before I go back, I am scared to death.
When I was still pregnant, I wasn't exactly sure how long of a break I would take. Because I am part time, I do not get a partially paid maternity leave. I had to use my vacation days wisely. I estimated I could take about 10 weeks off and survive. I started thinking about this the day after Caroline was born. Every time I did, my stomach would drop and I would be a ball of anxiety. How could I possibly manage two kids, a household and a job? People do it all the time, but how could I do it? When people would ask when I was going back to work, I would just say around Thanksgiving and never really let myself look at a calendar and decide. When I finally had to, it just worked out with the holiday that I would go back the Monday after Thanksgiving. This meant I was able to spend 12 glorious weeks and home with my babies. More than most, so I couldn't complain.
Going back to work meant I would have to start showering on a regular basis again. It meant I couldn't wear my black comfy pants and blue hoodie for days at a time. It meant I had to wake my kids up two hours earlier than normal to get them out the door and to the sitters. It meant I now had to pay double for daycare. It meant I couldn't hang out with my girls all day. I am sad.
After Lyla, I think I was in such shock about how this baby changed my life, I almost looked forward to going back to work. I went back part time so I will still able to spend a lot of time with her, but it also meant I could have adult conversations again. I could eat lunch without interruption. I could pee in peace. I could maybe feel like myself for a few hours a day.
This time is much different. This time I am mom. Before, my life was work. Now my life is my babies. I didn't want to go back. I wanted to be mom. On maternity leave I had time for my household. My house was clean. My laundry was always done. My kids were content to hang out with me. We settled into a sort of controlled chaos. Now I will have to change all that. Start a new routine. One I was forced into.
Will I cry tomorrow? Maybe. Will Eric cry on his first day alone with two babes? Likely. Fact is it has to happen. It will take some adjustment, but soon enough I know we'll get the hang out. But for tonight...the night before I go back, I am scared to death.
Say Cheese
For Christmas this year, I wanted to get Eric's mom a new cover for her brand new iphone. I thought it would be cute to get one with a picture of all the kids on it. Too bad I didn't have a picture with all five of them together. So I got a bug up my ass, called Becky and asked if she wanted to go have the kids pictures taken for Christmas. We went to a place that I thought would be cheap. Turns out I was wrong again. However, we ended up getting a lot of gifts out of it so I guess it was worth it. Lyla wasn't too interested in smiling and CeCe was covered in barf, but hey, it is what it is. And here they are...
Terrible, Awful, Miserable Two's
I've heard about the "terrible two's" before, but this is way beyond what I expected. I remember in the weeks leading up to Lyla's 2nd Birthday, I would say she was right on schedule with her acting up. That. Was. Nothing. I really started to notice the tantrums pickup in intensity around July. She spent a lot of time in time out. At that point, it seemed to work. Plus, I kept telling myself that I was a little short tempered due to pregnancy hormones and was blowing it out of proportion. Nope.
This past week has been the hardest ever. Lyla REFUSES to listen to anything I tell her. She deliberately does things she knows she is not supposed to. She has been acting out towards Caroline and even told her that she hated her (that didn't go over well). She screams "no" constantly in this evil little voice. Everything is on her terms and her terms alone.
It's heartbreaking. Is this the person she is destined to be? A mean-spirited person? What have I done or not done to make her think this behavior is appropriate? Is she learning from me? Do I act this way? Is this all just part of the "terrible two's and will pass? Is this her finally acting out towards her little sister? Two days ago, I even asked her if she had another person living in her head making her be mean.
Eric and I are at a loss as to how to handle this. I've tried "killing her with kindness". When she acts out, I just hug her and tell her I like it when she is a nice girl. I've tried screaming. This does nothing other than make her afraid of me and teach her to yell. I've tried spankings on the butt. Nothing. She cries for a minute then continues on with her day. I've given her sassy sauce (vinegar) which she totally hates but as soon as it's over, she whispering under her breathe the same thing that got her sassy sauce in the first place. Today I tried a new approach. I warned her that when she didn't listen to me or screamed at me, I would take away one toy each time. The first offense resulted in me popping the Bears balloon she's been toting around for weeks. By the end of the day both balloons and three toys were gone. Then she started picking out toys for us to take away. Fail. I am out of ideas.
The day ended with her screaming in her bed for 40 minutes because I told her I wouldn't read a book and lay with her before she went to sleep. Maybe that will work. She very much looks forwards to those cuddles at night and so do I, but I have to draw the line somewhere.
Every night I just hope the next day is better. I really have to work on myself as well and try to be a little bit more patient and keep my cool. It's just very frustrating. I look back at pictures of her when she was a baby and couldn't imagine getting so angry at that little face and yet here I am.
If only I had known how easy infants are. I thought things would get easier as they got older but I am finding out it is the exact opposite.
Tomorrow is another day...
This past week has been the hardest ever. Lyla REFUSES to listen to anything I tell her. She deliberately does things she knows she is not supposed to. She has been acting out towards Caroline and even told her that she hated her (that didn't go over well). She screams "no" constantly in this evil little voice. Everything is on her terms and her terms alone.
It's heartbreaking. Is this the person she is destined to be? A mean-spirited person? What have I done or not done to make her think this behavior is appropriate? Is she learning from me? Do I act this way? Is this all just part of the "terrible two's and will pass? Is this her finally acting out towards her little sister? Two days ago, I even asked her if she had another person living in her head making her be mean.
Eric and I are at a loss as to how to handle this. I've tried "killing her with kindness". When she acts out, I just hug her and tell her I like it when she is a nice girl. I've tried screaming. This does nothing other than make her afraid of me and teach her to yell. I've tried spankings on the butt. Nothing. She cries for a minute then continues on with her day. I've given her sassy sauce (vinegar) which she totally hates but as soon as it's over, she whispering under her breathe the same thing that got her sassy sauce in the first place. Today I tried a new approach. I warned her that when she didn't listen to me or screamed at me, I would take away one toy each time. The first offense resulted in me popping the Bears balloon she's been toting around for weeks. By the end of the day both balloons and three toys were gone. Then she started picking out toys for us to take away. Fail. I am out of ideas.
The day ended with her screaming in her bed for 40 minutes because I told her I wouldn't read a book and lay with her before she went to sleep. Maybe that will work. She very much looks forwards to those cuddles at night and so do I, but I have to draw the line somewhere.
Every night I just hope the next day is better. I really have to work on myself as well and try to be a little bit more patient and keep my cool. It's just very frustrating. I look back at pictures of her when she was a baby and couldn't imagine getting so angry at that little face and yet here I am.
If only I had known how easy infants are. I thought things would get easier as they got older but I am finding out it is the exact opposite.
Tomorrow is another day...
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