There comes a time, in the post-baby sleep deprivation stage, when everything seems totally overwhelming and you don't know how on earth you're going to keep going.
That time was today.
At about 10:36 a.m.
In the parking lot of Wal-Mart.
After Jack's balloon popped. (It touched the hot car and it was all over. At least it didn't suffer.)
It was like, all of a sudden, I seriously understood how someone could say something as cheesy as "Stop the world, I want to get off." (Or in my Mom's case, "I'm not happy I'm here.")
You can imagine the onslaught of tears that the popping balloon brought. And these were real, honest-to-goodness, that-was-the-saddest-thing-that's-ever-happened-to-me tears. But coupled with PJ's teething cries, which had started a few minutes before, while we were checking out, I seriously did not have the patience for it. Nor the energy to take both boys back into the Wal-Mart for another orange balloon.
(Jack was very specific about orange, which happens to be my favorite color.)
So the three of us drove home in tears.
(Fortunately, Wal-Mart isn't very far.)
So I'm trying to figure out what's going on and I think I need a vacation. (Do stay-home moms get a vacation?) (Heck, do working moms get a vacation?)
And maybe a Benadryl.
Or possibly just two solid nights' sleep. (One just doesn't cut it.) (But don't get me wrong, I'd take one if you were offering it!)
In my frustration, I googled something about being overwhelmed with two children under two and came up with this blog post that I could have written word for word with name and gender changes for the children and a few spelling changes from what I'm assuming must be English English. (You know, things like "behaviour" and "favourite" and "Mum")
It made me feel better, somehow.
I'm glad people blog.
I'm also glad that I have the most supportive husband in the world. We're both giving 110% right now, and sometimes it still doesn't feel like it's enough.
But there's no one I'd rather be giving it my all with than him.
Right now, both boys are sleeping (in their own cribs!), Patrick's finishing up his workday, and I'm going to bed.
Before nine.
When I was a kid, that was punishment. Now, it's like it's my birthday.
How sad is that?
3 comments:
we put so much pressure on ourselves to do so much- and it's hard! Having kids is the hardest job ever! I just kept chanting- it's only short term- this stage won't be forever and that helped get me through all the rough times!
I know it's hard to give 100% all the time. It just never stops! Keep it up. You guys are doing great, and your little boys love you so much!
My suggestion: Don't shop at Wal-Mart. It makes me want to cry even when I don't bring Kevin.
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