We had reached an equilibrium, he and I. It wasn't perfect, but the Boy and I had a schedule. Breakfast with cartoons, playtime, nap time (for him, too!), cooking Daddy's supper together, family time, and bed time. I knew when Baby Brother comes, this would all change and throw us into a period of chaos. I have prepared myself for that eventuality. What I didn't realize was how soon the chaos would come upon us. I thought we'd have our normal, a crazy hospital stay, and THEN the chaos. How could there be chaos when there's no tiny, Hulk baby to make the world turn upside down yet? Ah, but the force is strong with this one. (Yes, I mixed universes, get over it.) Tiny, Hulk-baby-in-utero wanted to make sure no one forgot he's coming soon, and so, Mommy got put on bed rest. Now, suddenly, in the span of an afternoon, nothing's the same... But all seemed the same... Except that Mommy has to nap a lot (this is my devastated face). It's the same schedule, but with grandmas here to help. What could be more fun?
But after the 50th, "Mommy, where are you?" and the 100th screaming fit when I left the room (I had to potty...again), and the 500th defiance to "obey," it's become quite clear that something's not the same. The Boy can sense a disturbance within the force (I'm really not a Star Wars fan, I promise). And as I asked myself what am I doing wrong, I was made to realize, "something has changed within me, something is not the same. I'm playing by the rules of someone else's game." (Ok, I'll stop.)
But seriously, all theatrical references aside, Mommy's no longer in control... And while that's not a bad thing, perhaps it's good for both of us to have that experience right now, it still means chaos. Because in Boy-world, if Mommy's not in control, who is? And in Mommy-world, if I can't get our act together now, how on earth will I know which way is up when there's two of them (there's gonna be TWO of them!)?
Today, I failed at controlling the chaos. And then I realized that's what it is: chaos. Sooner than I expected, prepared for, but here nonetheless. I've been mourning the loss of normal, or the arrival of chaos, or chaotically mourning, or just having a chaotic morning. Who knows?! Time to embrace it.
And THEN, I'll get to embrace that squishy, 'little' Hulk-baby, and teach him how to upset Daddy with misguided geekdom references. I had the order backwards, but that's chaos for you.
Tuesday, February 23, 2016
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
Boys
It was 2:41am. I heard a door shut. The pitter patter of little feet. Our bedroom door open and close. Then, a little voice, “Mommy? I si’ wi’ you?”
“I’m here, baby. You can sit with me,” not knowing or caring what time it was, the object simply being to just give him whatever he wants so we can all rest, principles left in the eye-grit of sleep.
“Daddy? Whatcha doomin?” as if most parents do any number of things in the dark in the middle of the night… I don't know, perhaps it was a valid question, but “Shh, baby, Daddy's sleeping. If you're going to stay in here, you have to be quiet and be still.” A whispered, “K,” answered from the dark.
We settled back down, somehow with Boy legs against my very large belly. Just as breathing becomes even and a mother’s hope rises, I feel the flops. “Mommy, was dat?” *Sigh* It had been one of those rare-at-this-point, hard sleeps. “That's the baby. He’s trying to sleep, too,” I hope, though I doubt his brother-in-utero really had much plans to that effect after having been awakened so early...or late, depending on which side of the clock you're on. “Shh...go to sleep.” Big brother settled back down; little brother did whatever he wanted.
And it was in that instant that my now-awake consciousness (it had been such a GOOD sleep) realized the beauty of motherhood encapsulated by that moment. The preciousness of snuggling my two boys in a way I soon will never again. The little boy wiggles, inside and out. The desperate clinging to some principle in the face of midnight requests for Mommy. The exhaustion...oh, the exhaustion (it had been SUCH a GOOD sleep). All rolled together into one shadow-hazed yawn of a soft mattress and warm blankets on a cold, winter night.
He tried. He really did. But an hour later, after a request of Mickey and, “I hungwy,” Mommy gave up. Between the three of us taking turns wiggling (I couldn't help it!), and waking the other two light sleepers up again, it just wasn't happening. Daddy sleeps hard, but his slumber can only take so much when faced with the wiggling elephant and her two offspring on the other side of the bed. So, based on the principle that he and I can't do this together much longer (that counts, right?), Mommy and the Boy snuck off for a little midnight (early morning?) snack and Mickey binging. Granmommy’s coming to play tomorrow (today). I’ll catch up on bedrest, then. If she’s lucky, maybe the Boy will, too.
“I’m here, baby. You can sit with me,” not knowing or caring what time it was, the object simply being to just give him whatever he wants so we can all rest, principles left in the eye-grit of sleep.
“Daddy? Whatcha doomin?” as if most parents do any number of things in the dark in the middle of the night… I don't know, perhaps it was a valid question, but “Shh, baby, Daddy's sleeping. If you're going to stay in here, you have to be quiet and be still.” A whispered, “K,” answered from the dark.
We settled back down, somehow with Boy legs against my very large belly. Just as breathing becomes even and a mother’s hope rises, I feel the flops. “Mommy, was dat?” *Sigh* It had been one of those rare-at-this-point, hard sleeps. “That's the baby. He’s trying to sleep, too,” I hope, though I doubt his brother-in-utero really had much plans to that effect after having been awakened so early...or late, depending on which side of the clock you're on. “Shh...go to sleep.” Big brother settled back down; little brother did whatever he wanted.
And it was in that instant that my now-awake consciousness (it had been such a GOOD sleep) realized the beauty of motherhood encapsulated by that moment. The preciousness of snuggling my two boys in a way I soon will never again. The little boy wiggles, inside and out. The desperate clinging to some principle in the face of midnight requests for Mommy. The exhaustion...oh, the exhaustion (it had been SUCH a GOOD sleep). All rolled together into one shadow-hazed yawn of a soft mattress and warm blankets on a cold, winter night.
He tried. He really did. But an hour later, after a request of Mickey and, “I hungwy,” Mommy gave up. Between the three of us taking turns wiggling (I couldn't help it!), and waking the other two light sleepers up again, it just wasn't happening. Daddy sleeps hard, but his slumber can only take so much when faced with the wiggling elephant and her two offspring on the other side of the bed. So, based on the principle that he and I can't do this together much longer (that counts, right?), Mommy and the Boy snuck off for a little midnight (early morning?) snack and Mickey binging. Granmommy’s coming to play tomorrow (today). I’ll catch up on bedrest, then. If she’s lucky, maybe the Boy will, too.
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