Today, I thought I would give you a glimpse into the life of a parent of two children under the age of two. The day began like any other. My newborn woke up at precisely 7:00 a.m. with a series of grunts that quickly turned into ear-splitting wails. No need for an alarm clock in our house. As usual, I pretended to sleep through it until my dear husband rolled himself out of bed to pick her up. It’s a little trick I’ve learned. Ladies, take note. If you pretend not to hear the crying, your husband will eventually get irritated enough that he will climb out of bed to get the baby for you.
Two minutes into her feed (which I fondly refer to as the never-ending milk buffet), with expert timing and precision, my almost two-year old began calling, “Mommy! Daddy! Mooommmmmmy! Daaaaaaaddy! MOMMY!” Then, with increasing panic in her voice, came the inevitable “Body! Body! BOOOOOOOOODDDY!” Body is her word for bottle.
My husband looked at me and then stumbled into the bathroom, shut the door, and turned on the shower.
I turned my attention to our toddler. “Hi Sweetie!” I called out with obviously fake cheerfulness as I entered her room (mornings are not my strong point).
“No! No! NOOOOOOOOOO!” She yelled, throwing her blanket over her head. I suppose my monster-like bed head, spit-up stained clothes (still from the day before), and killer morning breath would have that effect on anyone. I picked her up, still yelling (her, not me), and changed her diaper while trying to dodge her kicking feet.
“Potty!” She said emphatically.
“Do you need to use the potty?” I asked.
“No! No! NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”
“BODY!” She said, even more emphatically.
“Okay. We’ll get you a bottle and then breakfast.”
“No! No! NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”
I brought her downstairs and gave her some breakfast anyway (my husband, by this point, had already left the house – I may or may not have been a tad envious).
“Yuck!” She said, throwing her food onto the couch. I cleaned up the mess and got her a different breakfast (wrong way to handle it, I know).
It felt like I blinked and it was time to feed the baby again. I unzipped her sleeper so I could change her … and found that she was completely covered in poo from her chest to her knees.
The rest of the day was much of the same.
I never did get to drink my morning coffee. I didn’t get to blow dry my hair or do my make-up. The house looks like a hurricane hit and it’ll be mac and cheese for dinner unless my husband intervenes. But that’s okay. Because my kids will grow up all too fast.
Someday, I’ll look back and wish that I could hold that crying newborn for just a little longer. Someday, I’ll miss dancing around the living room and having tickle fights with my energetic toddler (in between tantrums – hers and mine). So despite the chaotic nature of this season of life, I am determined to savour every precious, crazy moment.