On mothering and failures

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I love being a mom. When Deven was born, I felt like I had found my calling, the thing I was born to do. Okay, so I hope it’s not the only thing I was born to do, otherwise all of this work I am putting into a college degree is going to be completely wasted. I know I’ve wanted to do it my whole life, and when Deven was a baby, I was felt like I was pretty good at it. It was the only thing in my life I felt sure that I could do.

I especially love babies. I love to nurse them and cuddle them. I love “talking” with them, and making them smile and giggle. I love how my milk makes Archer smell sweet like caramel. I love that wearing my baby boy in a sling or carrier makes him fall right to sleep. Seeing my babies grow and thrive makes me feel like I am doing something right. It doesn’t always work out the exact way that I intend; for example, I had the intentions of strictly breastfeeding both of my boys, and in both cases, needed to supplement with formula. This time especially, I felt horrible for having to do it, but I know that it’s not hurting him in any way, and it’s not going to change my plans of nursing him for a year. I just set these goals that I know are going to be insanely hard to meet, and then I beat myself up when I fail. Even though I know intellectually that I’m not actually failing.

I try to be super woman. I want to keep my house clean, I have to work to help make ends meet, I want to be able to cook all of the meals, I am raising 2 kids, and I am still going to college. I know, that’s a lot. Obviously, because I am only one woman, some things suffer. The house is still gross and dusty and cluttered. I try to pick up every day, and it doesn’t seem to help much. Because I work in the evenings, there are 4 days a week when Vance and Deven don’t get a decent dinner. (Like my husband couldn’t throw on a couple of chicken strips and heat up a can of green beans!)

The worst thing of all to suffer is my ability to be a good mom to my kids. The stress gets to be so much sometimes, and I get angry and yell, and sometimes I can be really rough with the older one. I’ve addressed like a zillion times on this blog how difficult like with a three-year-old around here is. You’re probably really tired of hearing about it. I just hate myself for not feeling like I can handle my own kid.

Of all the things in my life that I am trying to accomplish, the one things that is undoubtedly the most important of them all is what has to give. It’s not enough that I can’t keep my house clean, now I can’t even give my kid what he needs. I have to work or we can’t make our bills, I have to finish college or we stay poor and hopeless forever. I can’t give anything up. I guess I am just not enough woman to do everything as well as I wanted.

 

 

I’m Bay-ack!

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Hello everyone! I know, it has been a few weeks since I have posted. I attempted to update earlier this week, and this post is almost complete, sitting in my “drafts” folder, but I just couldn’t finish it. I couldn’t find a way to make it interesting, I am still lacking inspiration in the worst way. You would think having two awesome kids and a great husband, I would be FULL of inspiration and want to post every single day, but that just isn’t so, especially when my life doesn’t include much else at the moment. My life consists of:

Diapers, breast feeding, spit up, work, pizza, Yo! Gabba Gabba, not cleaning, tantrums, exhaustion, exceedingly hot weather, complaining about exceedingly hot weather, worrying about money, and anticipating school.

The “not cleaning” thing has not been due to a lack of trying. Over the weekend, we actually made plans to clean. We were going to devote the entirety of Saturday to cleaning the shit out of this house, but then I was really tired, and Vance wanted to play video games, and I had to work in the evening, so Saturday was completely wasted. Sunday, on the other hand, we got up, and I did the laundry, and Vance did the dishes, and even though I came down with Gastritis for the 5th or 6th time in my life, I kept going, though with frequent breaks due to aching stomach and fussy, fussy baby. Vance’s version of “cleaning” included 10 minutes of work, and then 25 minute breaks to play MineCraft. I’m not entirely innocent; my breaks were taken to watch documentaries on Netflix. “We got a lot done today in a short amount of time. We should be proud of ourselves” Vance says, even though the bathrooms are still disgusting, and the kitchen floor is still littered with those wrappers that cover juice box straws, thanks to our 3 yr old. That only accounts for some of the mess. We didn’t get as much done as I wanted, as I pictured. I got as much done as my energy level allowed. And even today, I am still tired, and my stomach is still burning. I’ll be lucky if  a load of laundry gets put away today, or if the dishwasher gets emptied. Our lives have been turned upside down since baby Archer was born, but unfortunately, my desires and standards haven’t. This means I’m in a constant state of complete frustration.

But luckily, Archer is still cute, and getting cuter every day. He turned 2 months old on the 14th. According to his Doctor’s measurements, he is 12 1/2 lbs, and only 21 inches long, as long as the average newborn. He is a basketball, just like his daddy was when he was a baby. He has fat rolls I didn’t even know could exist on his little body, and he has the shortest legs I have ever seen. It’s as though his torso and arms grew, but his legs still haven’t. What’s really funny is that his head is on the smaller side, and he has tiny little hands and feet. (Deven, on the other hand, looks like me, has a big head, and big hands and feet. Nature is cruel.) So to get an idea of where Archer is headed, picture Vance with a small head and tiny hands and feet, and you’ll have Archer. And a good laugh.

Smile!

He is also smiling, and cooing, and gurgling when he is awake and not fussing, which is unfortunately not often enough. He likes to play with toys, like the ones on his bouncy seat, and he can now rub his eyes and suck on his hands. He is a very different baby from Deven, who was always happy and laid-back, the perfect “first-timer” baby. This one is fussy, and not afraid to express his ever-abundant anger. He needs constant cuddling and rarely falls asleep on his own. But at least he sleeps 6 hours a night in his own bed.

My boys

And then there is Deven, who is still struggling with sharing the spotlight. I didn’t expect to get better anytime soon or anything. It’s a struggle trying to find ways to split my attention between both of my very-demanding kids, and taking care of household things, and trying not to lose my mind all at the same time. I’m grateful for things like pacifiers and “Yo! Gabba Gabba (totally getting me through this post right now), and valium. Lets not forget that last one.

Broken promises

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So…I haven’t blogged in a week. A whole week. I guess this means my promise to blog every single day has been shot. I don’t have any excuses, really. We went out of town, and even getting online was the furthest thing from my mind. And then we got home, and I thought that since I didn’t blog the entire weekend, that there was no reason I couldn’t blow it off one more night. To be honest, not worrying about finding some way of illustrating my increasingly stressful, yet boring life every single day has been kind of nice. Usually, I would put it off until the last second of the night when I was so exhausted, I could barely speak, let alone spell out a coherent sentence. And of course, my days are pretty much indistinct from one another. Saying that I have been uninspired would be quite the understatement.

So why am I here? I figured I owed my imaginary reader and frequent spammers an explanation for my absence, and perhaps an update would be in order. So I’ll start out by telling everyone about the business of the weekend that took me away from my blogging responsibilities:

On Friday, we left for Houston and for Vance’s cousin’s fancy wedding. We couldn’t afford to stay at the hotel, even at the discounted rate, so we stayed at Vance’s aunt and uncle’s house. Let me explain the awesomeness: We had an entire house to ourselves, with a full pantry and fridge, satellite TV, a work-out room, and a pool. Didn’t cost us a cent, and there were no strangers to worry about, and no check-out time. Everyone else stayed in tiny hotel rooms and had to pay for their room service, and had to share the pool with strangers. And they had to pay for parking in downtown Houston. Yeah, we won.

And of course the wedding itself was beautiful, and very romantic.  Both of our children behaved themselves perfectly through the entire thing. Before hand, we weren’t so sure that would be the case, but were pleasantly surprised.

Did I mention we went swimming? That was the best part of the entire weekend. Hours in a pool, no awkward encounters with strangers. And my in-laws gave me my birthday gift, 2 weeks after my birthday, once I had already forgotten that I had even had a birthday. This is what they got me. God bless the people in my life. And yes, I have been watching it with my three year old son. You have to start them young.

Since we came home, I have attempted to clean the house, and I have yet to be successful. This house hasn’t been cleaned since my mother-in-law left 6 weeks ago. I can blame the Sims and Archer, who has entered the unexplained constant crying/fussing/grunting stage. Every single waking hour of his is spent crying and fussing, and it is the saddest thing I have ever seen. I don’t know if it’s reflux, and I don’t think it’s colic, but whatever it is, it’s stolen the sweet happy baby I was just starting to get to know. He seems genuinely uncomfortable. Luckily, he is sleeping, though he went from sleeping in 2-4 hour blocks to 1-2 hour blocks. This is why I didn’t attempt to update earlier.

I don’t think it’s anything, colic or reflux, really. I think he’s just…fussy. His fussiness has just suddenly increased by a great deal. I can still soothe him by swaddling him and giving him a binky, and sometimes walking him around the room or swaying him seems to help. It just sucks to hear him cry every time he opens his eyes. He went from just starting to show us his adorable, gummy smiles, to keeping us up all night with his heartbreaking screams. No. Fun.

So what’s next? This weekend I will be seeing Rush for the sixth time, and I have just started to get excited about it this week. I am really looking forward to it, but mostly I am looking forward to A)A night child-free! With my favorite band! And B) The start of a week Deven free! Of course I love my child, but between him and his brother, he is by far the most challenging right now, and we can all use a break from time to time.

It’s the relatives that are willing to take your kid off of you for more than a few hours that make motherhood a possible endeavor.