Open Letter to the Networks July 10, 2009

If I had gobs of money like that strange Texas oilman who is always running energy ads, I would take out an open letter ad in the major papers and run ads on TV – mocking the networks for their “journalism” and pleading with them to stop.

Stop the madness.

Stop the absurd round-the-clock coverage.

MJ is dead. He was not super human. He did not walk on water. He didn’t solve the Middle East crisis or cure cancer.  He hasn’t even really done anything remarkable or noteworthy beyond allegedly being a pedophile in what – like 15 years.

Let it go, people. He was a man. He impacted popular culture, he was a leader in making super cool music videos back in the day, he had some great songs. Then he got weird. And guess what, it’s sad that he died and all – but seriously – seriously. Stop. Stop with the incessant coverage. Stop with the obsession over what will happen to his children. What about all the children who are left without a father every day – and guess what – they aren’t inheriting millions and might not even have big families to take them in? Let’s give them some attention instead of the children of a pop icon.

And how about all the news that is actually news-worthy out there that we aren’t getting because of the obsession with MJ. I keep wondering – is anyone beyond the network news and their web sites – as interested in the story? Is there a story? He died. Let’s move on.

Feeding Time at the Zoo July 8, 2009

Ahh kittens, gather round, for today’s topic will hit home for all of you – whether you are a first time preggo or mom of 14 (and if you have more than 4 kids, we’re also staring at you and judging you, FYI). All you have to be or have been at some point in your life, is a showing preggo, to know what I’m going to gab about today……the preggo zoo.

That’s right. The public’s right to mercilessly stare and comment on the comings, goings, growing size, and general demeanour and “glow” of a preggo. It’s like freaking feeding time at the zoo, being a showing preggo, now isn’t it?

We have gabbed on this one here before but does this topic ever get old? Have you really forgotten how pissed off you used to be as a preggo when people would gape as if you were a circus freak with 5 heads and a big goiter?

I mean really.

But see, the truth is, when I’m not preggo, I totally stare too.

A KT BFF started this yesterday when she emailed in from the Boston airport all pissed off and sick and tired of people staring at her cute preggo self. She’s pretty. She knows they are looking because she’s a good looking preggo – as we all are/were – but still – it doesn’t make it less annoying. She’s not being carried through the freaking airport like Cleopatra on her chariot with her Roman man slaves jogging along side – so why the staring?

I know why I stare, do you know why you stare?

I stare for the following reasons:

I wonder how far along she is. I wonder if she’s having a boy or a girl. I wonder if she is a clueless first time mom and has any idea what kind of ordeal she is getting herself into, or if she’s an old hat and well, she’s just glad to have a break from the other kid and quietly read a magazine.

Usually I can tell by the bags under her eyes if she’s already got another kid at home.

The truth is, my staring is usually pretty innocuous. I generally am not judging her size, or checking to see if her hands are so swollen that she can’t jam her ring on her finger anymore. If she is wearing something really hideous, odds are I am judging her for that and wondering why she couldn’t have tried a little harder. But for the most party, my stares are with good intent.

But here’s the rub, I”m still staring and well, for anyone who knows me, I’m not subtle in my stares.

And having recently been a preggo, the truth is, no one is subtle in their stares.

Preggos are fascinating to stare at for many reasons – whether it is acceptable to do so or not. Look, plenty of people stare at me and the girls as we are trying to get someplace and if it’s annoying at me – I just glare at them like I’m going to come kill them and their family next….sometimes I even mouth in venom “I know where you live, mother f’er”  - so I think that with parenthood, comes staring, like it or not. We all get stared at.

It’s the comments that are really unacceptable.  And NO ONE really dares comment to a mother trying to wrestle one of her twerps some place, but plenty of people comment to a preggo.

I think they believe they can make a comment to a preggo because they assume with the pending birth of a child and motherhood, you are nice and sweet and nurturing and want to be talked too. The truth is, I was more bitchy and obnoxious as a preggo than I am now, so I let plenty of people and their dumb comments, have it.

The problem here is this – I am preaching to the choir. You all know how it enrages you to be told “You have gotten so much bigger from the last time I saw you” or worse, as a second time preggo “Wow, girl, you look like you are ready any day” – when the truth is you have 8 weeks left.  That particular one really chapped my ass.

So what can we do? We can never comment to a preggo beyond “You look adorable” or “I love your outfit” and we can try to be as subtle as possible with our stares…..right, kittens?

Sibling Torture July 7, 2009

DD2 is now fully sitting up on her own and is probably days away from crawling (which for those of you who know me – know that I dread. I firmly believe mobility is grossly over rated). Yesterday I was out for a late afternoon walk with the kiddos (read: the only way to survive pre-dinner time) when I noticed something happening in the stroller.

And what I’m asking you is this – is it wrong that I took nothing but sheer and total pleasure from it?

What was it, you asked?

A hot italian man suddenly landed in my stroller?

Dinner arrived, cooked and hot, ready to eat?

A maid service swooped in to scrub my house from top to bottom?

Someone did the endless loads of laundry chez moi?

Mais non!

It was even better than someone finally finding the perfect swimsuit cover-up for me – stylish but functional – and not long sleeves. Why do people make long sleeve swimsuit cover ups? Where are they swimming?

It wasn’t any of those things. Though I am quite open to any of those things arriving chez moi this afternoon. I’ll leave the stroller parked out front just in case.

Here is what was actually happening: It was the first time DD2 was irritating the shit out of DD1. And I LOVED IT.

Is that wrong?

I mean – I was ready to do a jig. Afterall, DD1 has gotten quite good at being, well, irritating, when she wants to be – so to watch her little sister just be irritating to her (and not me – no one was irritating me for once) - was oh so satisfying.

See, DD2 now likes to remain perched up in her super cool new sitting position in the stroller and being a second child, she’s more like Bam Bam than Pebbles. She learned early on that a gal has to be assertive and forceful to get what she wants when there is someone older and more advanced in her motor skills around – so DD2 – she doesn’t just lounge back in the stroller. Plus she intuitively knows that whatever DD1 has is more interesting or more delicious to eat – so she tries to get it.

DD2 spent the entire 20 minute walk trying to yank the baggie of treats out of DD1’s hands, trying to rip the sippy cup from her hands and trying to gnaw on the enormous book DD1 brought along to read (yes, definitely a strange choice on DD1’s part, but who am I to discourage reading? Even when the book is the size of the stroller seat).

For once, DD1 was on the defensive and was being irritated. Now, I will hand it to her, she was extremely patient with her and didn’t act out. I realize this will grow old, DD1 will start reacting, DD2 will get hurt, it will all end badly, and I won’t have the time or chance to be so amused at these antics anymore.

But for once, it was so fun watching someone else irritate DD1. She has earned it, that is for sure, and really – seeing as how I have two little sisters – what good are little sisters if they aren’t good at irritating big sisters?

And why have two kids if you can’t take pleasure in watching one child irritate the child who is usually doing the irritating?

Broken Record July 6, 2009

Loyal KT fans know that I cautiously blogged about DD1’s behavior improving a few months ago. We progressed from every mundane task throughout the day being a huge battle filled with drama and fits, to her becoming agreeable and well, civilized. It felt so good. I worried it wouldn’t last. I conferred with a dear BFF, she said that it was fair for me to believe things had improved but that we could regress somewhere in the 3s.

Seven months into the 3s, we have regressed.

I am tired.

Of course I wrack my brain for reasons, has she regressed because school’s out for summer, so there isn’t as much structure to her day, let alone the outlet of school and crafts and friends? Has she regressed because I am home more – of course I find myself wondering? Has she regressed because she was away from daddy for a few days and she wanted his attention and chose to act like a devil, to try and get it? Is it a combination of things? Will I ever know?

No.

The only thing I am certain of right now – as I type this completely exhausted and out of patience – is that I will never know why she’s regressed. And also, it’s not as bad as her 2s behavior because the battle isn’t over every single mundane task – it’s just over some things. It’s challenging because she is more forceful in her protests than she was at 2, she is more sophisticated in her arguments, but still, she will not prevail.

But see, it’s the broken record that has joined us in these battles that is really catching me off guard. Example – she is done with dinner and wants to go outside to eat her popsicle on the front step (that is, if she’s been good enough to earn that popsicle on that day). She knows she needs to wait for mommy and daddy to be done with dinner before she can go outside. She is welcome to eat her popsicle at the table while we finish and eat the rest out front. But no – she is going to wait to eat it until she can go outside.

So here is what happens:

“Are you done yet? Daddy are you done yet”

“No”

One second later, “are you done yet? Mommy are you done”

“Not yet”

Milliseconds later  “are you done yet? are you done yet? are you done yet? are you done dinner yet? are you done yet?”

I say “DD1, what did you say, I’m pretty sure we didn’t hear you the first time”

“Are you done yet, are you done yet, are you done with dinner yet”

We are done. Not because we actually are done but because we can’t take it anymore.

OR phone manners. I am trying to teach her that if mommy is having a conversation with someone, she needs to say “Excuse me” if she feels it is important to interrupt (note, it is ALWAYS important to interrupt when you are 3, apparently).

OK – well – what do you do when they say “excuse me” repeatedly over and over and over and over again, as you instructed them too  - basically until you give up and stop the conversation?

She’s doing what I asked. She just won’t stop until she gets what she wants.

My mom tells me that this particular example is one that goes on for years – it’s really about instant gratification. But it is exhausting.

Or take this morning, time to go to camp (thank god – another week of camp).

“OK, time to leave for camp”

“I don’t want to go to camp. I don’t want to go to camp. I don’t want to go to camp. I don’t want to go to camp.”

“Ok, turn off the tv,” I say, as I am gathering her stuff and DD2 to take DD1 to camp. She turns off the TV only because she thinks my “OK” means she doesn’t have to go to camp, we move to the door and from the time I close and lock the door, to the time I load up two kids and pull out of my driveway and then make it to the light to exit my neighborhood, this is what she says non-stop:

“I don’t want to go to camp, I don’t want to go to camp, I don’t want to go to camp, I don’t want to go to camp.”

To humor myself, a few times I actually say to her “Seriously, I definitely didn’t hear you the first time, could you say it again, I don’t know what you are saying.”

Then guess what? We pull into the parking lot at school and this is the reaction “I LOVE SCHOOL!”

I forgot to strap myself in for the emotional roller coaster ride that would be my attempt to get to camp, apparently.

Is 9am too early to start drinking? Will alcohol numb my senses? Will it make me go deaf? Can someone send me some ear plugs?

How in the world do I stop the broken record?

Did anyone warn me that parenthood just keeps getting harder and harder and harder as they get older?

Cheap Labor July 2, 2009

I’ve been down at the beach with the two girls for the past three days. It is untrue to say that I am alone because, well, the girls are people too, but they are helpless, therefore I am alone with a 3.5 year old and a 7 month old. I believe that every time I venture out of the house, this question is relevant “Is this trip more effort than it is worth?”

I knew the answer to that question before I left home was a resounding yes, but still, it’s summer, shouldn’t I be at the beach with the girls?

But see – the logistics are very complicated. How does one tote all the beach crap, a 7 month old and a 3.5 year old onto a beach by themsleves?  Let alone watch a baby to make sure she doesn’t get stolen (or more realistically, swallow too much sand?) when the older sibling is apparently a daredevil and has no fear of 10 foot waves or the fierce Atlantic undertoe? The only way I pulled the beach trip off was because we met some friends from school on the beach, who after witnessing DD1’s extreme obsession with huge waves and no fear, admitted that they would have never believed it until seeing it with their own eyes. She is insane. I like that about her but sometimes, sometimes, it’s hard. Perhaps she needs some mud and a dirt bike next?

So yesterday, as my friend was helping me trudge the stroller and the crap (which I signficantly minimized as compared to what I usually pack up when say, darling husband, is here) all of this leaves me reaching the same conclusion:

Divorce = terrible idea

Dads = awesome cheap labor

Particularly when it comes to toting lots of crap and small children onto and off the beach, pulling around toddlers in the pool, and preventing small children from getting swept off to sea.

These are dad jobs in my house.

Dads = good.

No dads at beach = difficult time.

I have no problems shutting down and “playing in the sand” at the beach while DH races back and forth to water with DD1, and fills up endless amounts of water in buckets for DD1 to immediately dump all over the place. Someone has to take on the difficult task of keeping an eye on the immobile baby, right?

Right.

So we trash husbands a lot here – but today – I salute you, dear husbands!

And you better believe, mine has received several threatening emails about getting his ass down here – STAT.

Kids & Hot Cars June 26, 2009

“Good mothers don’t do this,”  wept a mother during a police interview after she realized she’d left her daughter in a hot car for 8 hours one August. I saw her on Oprah this week.

Every summer we hear about parents who leave their kids in a hot car all day and they die from heat stroke.

Every summer I am riddled with questions and am mystified by this story. Having previously worked in the auto industry, it was also a heated topic of discussion at my office as these stories broke each summer. Everyone has really strong opinions on this one.

I am just confused. I find that the people who don’t yet have children seem to have really strong black & white convictions that this is an absurd and totally avoidable scenario and the guilty parent should be sent to jail for killing a child.

I definitely don’t see it that clearly but I’m not without judgment.  This spring the Washington Post had a really long Magazine story about this very issue, featuring several parents who had all suffered the loss of a young child at their own hands by leaving them in a hot car.  I cried several times while reading it.

For me, the most chilling point made in the piece was made by a shrink who said that if you have ever left your cell phone at home, then you are capable of leaving your child in a car. It’s how your mind works.

But here’s my first question – how do you go an entire work day without checking on your child? This is the part that I just can’t get past. I had a routine of checking in twice a day. Is that psycho? Is that too much? I have no idea. It’s what I did because I enjoyed hearing an update on DD1’s day, how her day was at school, whatever it was she was up too. Sometimes I missed a call from our nanny and wouldn’t return it until prior to leaving for the day, but the point is – I knew she was alive and kicking.

So here you go – this is the main question I have on this issue that I just cannot get past. How do you not check on your kids during the work day? I do not believe that anyone is too busy to do this. No one. Don’t kid yourselves into thinking your work is that important, right? Now would this avoid the death of a child? I’m not sure. Would they still be alive 4 hours into being left in a hot car? I have no idea. So is this a worthwhile question? Who knows. But this is my blog, so it’s my main question.

Moving on – what does this say about our society? At what point do we stop and take stock of our lives – not just the parents who have suffered this horrendous loss – but all of us – and really digest that this is happening? And repeatedly.  What does it say specifically about parenthood and how much parents are juggling that their mind can shut off and they can leave a beloved child in a car to die?  This scenario spreads across race and class lines – from pediatricians to electricians – moms and dads. At what point do we all stop with the madness and cut a few things out of our life to help avoid this scenario – to stop being stretched too thin?

I just can’t let it go. I don’t understand how you can forget your child is in your car. I feel like as a parent who has felt stretched far too thin, I can say this. Maybe my kids are just loud. But I just don’t get it. Yet it’s happening – so what do we need to change about our lives? Do people put unrealistic pressure on themselves to be this perfect parent? Because if that’s the case, then they’re idiots. Isn’t doing our best, enough? And just being satisfied with your best might help cut some things out? I just don’t know. I’m brainstorming here because the idea of a child suffering a horrible death in a hot car for 8 hours warrants some serious brainstorming.

And then what about the parent who did this? Do they deserve to go to jail? Again, I’ve heard many childless friends speak very clearly that they have killed a child and should pay their dues. I’d argue that having to live the rest of their life knowing what they’ve done is punishment enough. My mom also thinks they should go to jail and well, she has 4 kids. I just don’t know.  I definitely don’t see it clearly but like I said before, I am not able to suspend all of my judgment of these parents. I have issues with it.

It’s a horrible horrible reality. And it seems that if we all took a step back and really took stock of our whole lives, maybe there wouldn’t be this sensation of being stretched too thin. Maybe our best is good enough. Perfection is absurd. I definitely am sure on that one.

Another Betrayed Wife June 25, 2009

Anyone else keeping tabs on all the politicians, their affairs, the press conferences announcing it and the role of the betrayed wife? For all you loyal KT followers out there – and let me tell you – there are so many of you – you know that I love to observe these antics.

Obviously I am talking about the latest news of Governor Sanford taking off to parts unknown – as it turns out Argentina – because of his affair with a woman. Over the weekend, DH showed an unusual amount of interest in the story of the  MIA Governor. He was so sure it was going to be yet another salacious gay affair. His sudden interest amused me and well – we all knew the dear old conservative Christian Governor was either dead or clearly having an affair with someone. The fact that he left the country and headed to Argentina, where the beaches are amazing and the women gorgeous, truthfully does make it all the more interesting. Certainly something you can almost digest much easier than approaching people in, say, an airport bathroom stall. Or even moving hookers across state lines (I’m still miffed that Spitzer didn’t think our hookers here in DC were good enough for him).

But that’s not what today’s entry is about. It’s about the betrayed wife. We’ve stood there in disbelief and wondered what are they thinking – good ole Hilary, McGreevey’s wife, how about Spitzer’s wife? I mean seriously. Then came Elizabeth Edwards – we all took note that when John went on ABC Primetime in December to disclose the truth behind his affair, Elizabeth wasn’t there. I don’t know about you, but I totally respected her for it. I keep wondering – why should the wife give a crap about the husband’s career and show the voters that if she trusts him, we should, when he can’t keep his pants on? It’s so humiliating…..why stand there?

So Elizabeth stayed away.

And now we see Governor Sanford’s wife was decidedly absent during his odd, rambling, press conference yesterday. In fact, I read that she hasn’t spoken to him in two weeks.

Are we turning the tide here kittens? Are the scored political wives finally standing firm and giving their husbands the big “F You” very publicly by not standing there? I’m really hoping so because in that moment of political disaster for their careers, they ought to be up there alone, facing the cameras. You reap what you sow, boys.

But see – this time – this story is giving me pause beyond just the initial public reaction of the wife. It’s really about the dissolution of the marriage. A KT BFF who might be almost 40, though she doesn’t look a day over 21, a while back commented on how in the 30s, everyone is getting married and having babies. But she’d noticed amongst her 40 year old friends, everyone was divorcing.

This passing comment really stuck with me.

And then I look at Governor Sanford and his beautiful wife and their four boys and I wonder – what the hell is happening to these marriages after so many years? And though I’m not 40 yet, it’s coming a bit faster than I’d like, and so I can’t help but wonder. In particular now that I have two kids, it seems even more complicated, to deal with a divorce than it did after one kid. Everything just is even more intertwined. So how does this happen? Why does it happen? Do people just get bored after almost 20 years together and things die off?

For whatever reason, I am viewing this latest political scandal through a different lens, more sadness, and just wondering why and how the hell do people avoid it.

Quiet June 22, 2009

I think the collective sigh of relief must have been heard around the neighborhood today…..summer camp started at DD1’s school.

I know I wasn’t the only relieved looking parent peeling into the parking lot as the clock struck 9am (somehow I have trouble being so on-time for pick-up….)

Never, ever, in my life have I been so thrilled for summer camp. Well, it’s also DD1’s first time attending summer camp. But seeing as how she was sick as a dog and missed the last two weeks of school, she’s basically been home full-time and lacking the structure of school for a month now.

Add in the fact that it’s like freaking Northern Europe except no where as cool and the beer isn’t as good – in that it’s been raining every single day for like this entire past month – and you can see that it is a recipe for bad behavior.

It finally dawned on me on Friday night when we were having dinner with friends (whose rooftop deck includes an amazing view of the Capitol, Library of Congress and Washington Monument…amazing). One friend noted that her 4 year old had been acting so bad lately and she was sure it was because it’s been a while since she’s been in school.

Ahh yes! No wonder the Tasmanian devil has re-entered my home. Of course! Was I so tired and so exhausted and so beaten down that I couldn’t piece this together on my own? I mean, for months, we actually referred to DD1 as “The Taz.”

And trust me, Taz has been back.  And with the return of  The Taz has come the return of the “Rules Chart.”

Anyone else have one of these displayed prominently in their house? Ahh….the joys of being 3. Curious about the rules?

“Obey Mommy and Daddy” tops the list….this seems like a broad-sweeping category that will be conveniently used as a threat, by moi, whenever I can’t think of anything else

“No Whining” comes in a close second. I mean really. Whining sucks. It’s painful.

“Put on your shoes when asked”

“Come to the table when asked”

“Be quiet outside baby’s room”

“Turn off the TV when asked”

Round out the remainder of the list.

Riveting, isn’t it?

Like I said…thank god for camp.

So after DD2 and me dropped off DD1 at camp…..we came home…..had a bottle…..DD2 had a nap…and suddenly I realized….everything is so QUIET.

I felt like I could hear myself think for the first time in a month. I mean seriously. I could finally hear a coherent thought. Never a deep thought but still – I could hear myself think. And we know my thoughts are precious.

Camp lasts every day this week. One full glorious week of daily camp until 1:30pm. I used to think camp was expensive.

Now I think it’s a god send.

Emailing at O’Dark Thirty June 17, 2009

Look – don’t pretend like you’ve never done this. And if you haven’t, I bet you’ve thought about it. And if you’ve seriously never found yourself in this position – then that annoys me.

Are we all familiar with the enraged email that you bang out – usually to your spouse – at o’dark thirty? When you know that you probably shouldn’t be sending it and you know it definitely isn’t productive – and odds are it might not even be his fault – but really – he’s the one who got you pregnant and it’s therefore it’s his kid that has you up at that time- and he’s not there to help you deal – so really – isn’t it oh so cathartic?

It just  might be oh so wrong.

But it feels just so right.

And frankly – very little feels right at 4am. When you’ve been up for an hour already. And you don’t know when it’ll end but you know the sun comes up around 5:30am, therefore DD1 (who is also the child of said male you are sending threatening emails too, therefore it’s his fault) will be up – so really – your day began at 3am.

So why send the threatening email at o’dark thirty?

Why the hell not. KT might have found herself doing such a thing on Tuesday morning. I was all by my lonesome. This was the second hard night I’d had in a row with DD2, it was absurd that she had been up since 3am.Meanwhile DH was peacefully sawing logs back at home, with nary a care in the world, and an empty house facing him when he arose that morning. He could take his time, slumber around, do whatever the f he wanted before going to work, when he woke up.

But me? Oh hell no.

So is sending the threatening “get your ass to work early so that you can get home at a decent time and give me help or you are dead f’ing meat because I’ve already been up for an hour and it’s f’ing 4am” email a good idea?  I’m thinking YES because it just feels great to bang that out. Now doesn’t it?

Haven’t you done something similar?

I know that I cannot be alone in this, kittens. Fess up.

But see – this brings up another topic. The threat built into the email. Even if you haven’t sent your DH a threatening email at 4am, admit that you’ve sent him a threatening email. And the thing is, I really have found that when they know we really mean it, we finally get some action. Why do they respond to threats or yelling? Cause I know we don’t want to hear threats and yelling coming out of our mouths (well, actually, frankly, threats at 4am when I know he is sleeping elsewhere is exactly what I want to hear).

But seriously.

Example – yesterday DH left his office and got home by 4:30pm.

FOUR THIRTY.

Granted he read that email bright and early and actually went to work at 6am. But still. 4:30. It was like a christmas miracle. And it just teaches me that threats work.

Another example – we bought these beautiful number tiles in Provence in June 2007 (back when we had only one kid and we were in France. Alone. Without her. In other words, the glory days of June 2007).  Now, until 2 weeks ago, do you think those beautiful house tiles, that DH himself picked out, had been hung? Mais non! They had been pushed around and the topic of countless discussions and nagging sessions for TWO YEARS.

Well, I woke up with a real bee in my bonnet that morning and really laid into him. And you know what? Those tiles were hung that very day – he just quietly got to work and got it done (in like an hour, I might add, so if you count up all the time I’ve asked, pleaded, begged, nagged and most recently yelled, I spent more time asking than it took to complete). They look so great and now the front of my house looks how it’s supposed to look – dressed up with numbers from Provence.

So why do they respond to threats and yelling? Why? Why? Why? Cause the truth is, unless it is 4am, I really actually don’t want to do those things.

Yet between coming home at 4:30pm and hanging my French house numbers – you think I’m gonna refrain from a little yell or a threatening email again, when the opportunity presents itself?

Oh hell no.

Am I alone here, kittens?

3,2,1….BLAST-OFF June 14, 2009

That is how I feel as each day starts, as the sun is barely rising over the horizon……..it’s like we blast-off at mach 10 and there is barely a second to think until 14 hours have passed.

Life with two kids is exhausting.

Let me write that again – this time imagine it in 84 point font in bold – EXHAUSTING.

Lately I hear myself sound like that mom. You know that one that you hear at the park and you’re horrified and think to yourself, I will never bark at my kids like that and be so impatient. You know that one that you are rolling your eyes at in horror.

Remember one of the fight club rules at KT? Whenever you think you won’t be that person or it won’t happen to you – it will and it does – and usually worse than you think.

So clearly I need a break. I think two weeks of sick kids, including an emergency 24 hour hospitalization for DD1 (and yes, of course I was alone with both kids at the docs when we were rushed to the hospital) – hasn’t helped and has in fact, made me raw and beyond the point of exhausted. But still. Wow. This is hard.

At first, I really didn’t think adjusting to two was that big of a deal. Newborns are easy, I thought. And honestly, compared to an insane toddler and when you are doing it the second time around, newborns really are easy (with the exception of colicky babies or an illness). All they do is sleep. Sure they don’t sleep a lot and so you don’t either but that’s nothing new – so it’s not a hard transition.

But then they start to grow up. They sleep less, they regress in sleeping patterns, they learn more about what they want, they whine endlessly between 5-7pm, they become more demanding because well – they are older and wiser.

And your older one is still, well, demanding – because at least mine is 3.5. She’s old enough to assert her independence and want to do everything herself – but that can be very frustrating and time consuming and patience exhausting.

It’s funny – it’s like they play tag with you. DD2 is easy because she eats whatever I put in front of her. With DD1, most meals and even getting her to eat is a battle. An exhausting, draining one. But I won’t back down, she needs to eat and “healthy choices” is a constant phrase around my house.

Then it’s nap time. DD1 goes right to bed. DD2, she fights me and drags it out, then I get her to sleep, then she wakes up literally 45 minutes later and up I go again to get her back down, and so it goes. It’s always something.

Through this, don’t get me wrong. I love love love being home – I never once find myself missing work or feeling like I am missing out or wishing I could put on a suit. I would honestly tell you if I did. And I love our lazy afternoons at the park, watching DD1 and DD2 make each other laugh and giggle, or painting at 11am on a random Tuesday.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not tired to the bone and wondering when things will ease up. Most days I feel steamrolled.

I used to go to the gym at 6am because it was the only time of day I could workout. It still is the only time of day I can workout but now I go to the gym at that time because I need to get the f out of the house and be by myself and have quiet time. It gives me the strength to power through the next few hours.

I was the sleep police with DD1 and I still am with DD2. The reality of naps for the second child is that it revolves around the schedule of the older child. This kinda sucks for the second kid but whatever, if you have an active 3 year old in your house, you know you need to get the hell out and just hope the baby will sleep in the stroller (mine, as it turns out, refuses to do that). The good thing is that morning naps for DD2 are spotty but I’ve forced them both onto the same afternoon nap. Sometimes I do get 2 hours of quiet time at the same time. Not every day – DD2 often wakes up mid-way through her nap and needs help getting back down – but I stand firm. At least this time round, I know that these phases will pass and I remind myself of that over and over again as I am feeling raw and like I’m going to lose it.

Blast-off is really the only way for me to summarize life with a 3.5 year old and a six-month old. I was reading an entry on the Washington Post “On Parenting” blog and it’s what really spurred me to write this entry. The author wrote that when you add a second child to the house, you are adding a whole new set of needs and demands and wants but the number of parent hands stays the same. Indeed. And it means a whole lot more work for daddy, that second child.

DH is very helpful with the kids, I really cannot complain about that, and he can see when I am teetering on the edge and will suggest I get out. But I’ve also really worked hard at actively carving out time for myself on the weekends. I think it’s the key to my survival but also it’s important for him to be alone with them. Not because he doesn’t know how to care for them but because I think it’s important for them to just have daddy time.

At first, DH just had to take over care for DD1. I had a c-section with DD2 and physically couldn’t manage a 3-year old for at least the first three weeks. Before DD2 was born, I was the only one that DD1 wanted (I was the only one she wanted for basically the entire second year of her life. That can get old). The end of my pregnancy really changed that because I also couldn’t carry her upstairs anymore or manage wrestling her onto the potty. So she had to learn to accept daddy in her life. It was a battle. She really was only-mommy, all the time for so long, but I knew I needed to step back for her sake because I knew daddy was the best she could get once DD2 arrived. She eventually relented and realized that daddy was pretty awesome, so it was fine for her that daddy was on full-court press with DD1 with the arrival of DD2.

Now that I have been home for two months, she’s easing back into an only-mommy phase but she’s also older – so you can reason with her or frankly, just ignore it, much easier than you can with a 2-year-old. But daddy’s involvement and participation and help is more crucial than ever. I really have no idea how single moms do it.

So what is my point in all of this? Well, frankly, I just need to blurt it all out because I’m so tired and exhausted and I know it’ll get easier but just blurting it out makes me feel better. My point is also not to scare anyone having a second. Trust me – seeing the siblings laugh together and play together is amazing. It’s amazing like when you have your first and realize what true love is – you remember that feeling? Well, it’s amazing like that.

Everyone has an opinion. Some say the transition from 0-1 is the hardest. Others say the transition from 1-2 is harder because you are already in a routine with the one and it’s a big adjustment. The majority say adding a third isn’t even mentionable once you’ve got two. Right now, I think the transition from 0-1 was the hardest for me because it was just such a shock to my system.  I also know that having a baby and a 3 year old is just hard. It’s universally hard for anyone doing it. They both are so needy and dependent on you, it’s basically unrelenting.

I think the best way to summarize life with two kids is really and truly “BLAST-OFF.”  Strap yourselves in and try to enjoy the ride, kittens.