My kids are 19 months apart. I’ve got a 2-year-old girl and an 8-month-old boy. Planned? Yeah…like THAT makes it any easier.
Our neighborhood has like 80 newlywed couples. I love seeing them at church, holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes…’cause they prolly got laid like 20 minutes before showing up. WHO ME?!! Of COURSE I used to do that!!!
But it’s been years.
Why? BECAUSE FRIGGIN BABIES, MAN!! Wanna know what it’s like to have 2 smallers in diapers? Here ya go..
- My house is literally NEVER clean.
I shi* you not. My house is a disaster. We vacuum like every day. Haven polished off a package of Saltines (I don’t even know where the ef she got those. I thought we were friggin out..), and Ty emptied all of the salty crummies all over the carpet. Damon has these rubber sword things that somehow made their way to the living room. The contents of my purse…diaper bag..are all over the floor. When I go to class, a diaper or stuffed rabbit winds up in my backpack. We try deep-cleaning twice a month or something. It gets trashed within like 10 minutes. And my babies get bored if the house is too clean. They refuse to appreciate it for the comfortable, stress-free environment that it brings. Which brings me to point #2..
2. IS IT TOO MUCH TO ASK THAT TWO PEOPLE BE REASONABLY CONTENT FOR LIKE 10 MINUTES?!!
Are they making a ginormous a** mess in the living room out of honeydew? Yes. Are they doing it happily? No? CEASE THE MADNESS! Are they doing it happily? Yes? Just…just let it happen. I close my eyes and focus on whatever I’m doing that doesn’t involve holding a pissed-off or otherwise disgruntled child. Unless it’s the baby eating my lotion..because that stuff’s expensive.
But seriously. Why can they not just play together happily?! That’s why I decided to have them a year and a half apart!!! JUSTIFY YOUR BIRTHS, BABIES!!
I’ve made a lovely little pie chart to illustrate…
3. I used to do cool things with cool people…now I inspect a** cheeks.
The two-year-old emerges from the bathroom, declaring that she has pooped. Of course, she’s flushed the toilet, ergo..all evidence of said poop. Not thinking, I give her the promised chocolate. Five minutes later, I hear the toilet flush again. The toddler emerges once again, declaring that she’s defecated. Suspicious…I tell her to get over here. I tell her to bend over while I spread her cheeks. Indeed. She has pooped. Congratulations, you nasty creature. For the love of Zeus, wash your friggin hands!!!
This is my life now. Like 3 years ago, I was hot-tubbing with my big-boobed friend, eating lime popsicles, talking about the future…*SOBS*
4. SO MANY DIAPERS.
Last week, the toddler was violently ill with vomiting and diarrhea. Potty-training had to cease, but that didn’t stop her from wanting her diaper changed any time she got even a drop of poop in it. We went through like 50 diapers, just for her. The baby kept up his usual routine of unleashing his daily buttery-sour-popcorn poop accompanied by like a gallon of pee.
And the baths. I got a text from Damon while in my Saturday math class (which we won’t talk about…because FML) saying that Ty would not stop screaming until he threw him into the bathtub. Both babies will just sit in the tub for hours if you let them. It’s a quick-fix. Until the baby tackles the toddler and makes her scream. Yes, he does that now. He weighs almost as much as she does.
But so many diapers. All of the motherly figures in my life (my mom, Damon’s mom, my grandma) have graciously donated to our plight with diapers and wipes. I simply cannot express enough gratitude. Diapers have almost cost us as much as textbooks. HA! Just kidding!….Textbooks are still more.
5. Babies have a sixth sense. It’s calling ruining your sex life.
You think I exaggerate? Go in a different room and just LOOK at your partner. Silent? Goodie! Now embrace them. Smooth them lovingly. Gently lay them down. Just kidding…don’t have any foreplay at all. There’s no time. Dive right in!! And do not quiver! Do not hesitate!!! YOU HAVE THREE MINUTES! THE BOMB IS COUNTING DOWN!!!!!! THEIR EYES HAVE OPENED AND THEIR GUMMY SMILES HAVE RECEDED INTO THE COLD FANGS OF RESENTFUL-ABSTINENCE!!!!
Unless your children are in another house, you won’t have any time to don your sexy bra and thong. It’ll look more like sneaking into your bedroom, dropping your sweat pants and snarling “Dropyourpantsbeforetheyhearus!!” And there is NO BIGGER BUZZKILL AT ALL EVER THAN HEARING A LITTLE CHIPPER “Daaaddddyyyy!” from the side of the bed. Or having the door busted open, giving way to the diapered prison wardens.
Seriously. The only solution is to dump them off at somebody else’s house, then come home and try to ignore the disaster-house, and try to get in the mood with piles of laundry everywhere. Sexy.
6. I told myself I wouldn’t be the mom who yells…
I yell. A lot.
Usually short, broken sentences starting with “HEY! CUT THAT OUT RIGHT NOW!” “LET HIM PLAY WITH IT!” “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
I know she’s not TRYING to be a brat. I know that she didn’t REALLY mean to push the baby over. But she did. And ughghhghghghgh. I yell a lot. So sue me. Damon is usually better at not yelling. He warns, then takes decisive action. Much calmer. Much better at handling conflict. Be like husband.
Lotsa stuff I said I wouldn’t do. Like let the toddler watch the iPad for 2 hours in the playpen (which she uses to escape from the baby, whom the playpen was originally intended for) while I get homework done, or watching Pride and Prejudice on my tablet. I ended up having to watch like half of that while I showered. The BBC version is wonderful.
I would never bribe or punish my child. Lies. So many lies. I would never let my child eat food off the floor or get away with anything ever. They would sit at the table politelyI would be the BEST mom.
Turns out, for me, that means holding a truce along the lines of “I will give you chocolate if you stop talking for 2 minutes so I can hear myself think. Deal??”
7. This is insanity. But one day this will all be over, and that makes me want to cry
One day, I’ll wake up, and there won’t be kids in my bed. One day, they won’t have chubby cheeks. They’ll be off at college or getting married or having babies or having adventures in Africa. Something. One day, I won’t have a smushy fat baby to snuggle. Unless they have kids at the same age as the last….few thousand generations. Oh boy. I’ll miss the toddler’s incessant chattering and thigh rolls and milky smiles. Ughhhh! WHY?! One day, I’ll be able to sit with my husband in church without having to take one or both children out. One day, this will all be gone.
Obsessed. Even though the baby just scratched me in the eye.