I feel like three is one of those things that no one tells you about until you get there, then all of a sudden everyone is saying ..."yup, 3 is tough--much harder than 2." Or maybe it's like the pain of childbirth: people mention it but you don't really get it until it happens to you. Finn is 3 and 3 months and wow. Yesterday was possibly one of my most difficult days ever, the kind of day where I broke down to tears multiple times and wondered if I could possibly be able to handle this parenting thing. The kind of day where I finally understand why my mom had trouble being patient with me and I wish I could just call her up and say "sorry" and "thank you." I had to give myself time-outs to regroup and remain calm and consistent. There's pee on the floor, in the bed and threats of pee on the baby's head. Homemade granola is knocked off of the counter into the open drawers as I have one baby (who should be napping) on my hip and the other (who should also be napping) playing and peeing on his bed. I'm spatchcocking a chicken and spilling the raw chicken juice everywhere. WE SHOULD ALL BE NAPPING, DAMN IT!
And then there's today. My boy is back. He's making the baby laugh and then playing quietly while the other one naps. He's helping me clean up and he's actually agreeing to get dressed. I love you mommy.
I guess I can make it one more day....
And then there's today. My boy is back. He's making the baby laugh and then playing quietly while the other one naps. He's helping me clean up and he's actually agreeing to get dressed. I love you mommy.
I guess I can make it one more day....