Happy 4th of July! It’s 1130p so naturally, my neighbors think it’s the perfect time to set off fireworks. I JUST got the boys to sleep an hour ago and now the dogs think that the world is ending and they need to alert everyone within a 40 mile radius. It’s great.
So now, instead of trying to sleep before the next feeding, I’m awake, cursing my husband for buying a house next to neanderthals.
In other news, we’ve kept the boys alive for a whole 3 months (and one day)!
Look, I don’t want to be the reason for anyone’s elective hysterectomy but to say it’s been a hard 3 months (and one day) would be a huge understatement. I’m not sure what I thought babies/twins would be like but holy shit. People keep saying “it’ll get better” but it’s really not getting that much better. At all. Keeping our sense of humor is getting harder and harder as the sleep deprivation reaches new levels. I keep thinking that I have a touch of postpartum depression but the more I talk to other moms, the more I’m finding that no, I’m normal and this shit is just hard and lucky us, we were “blessed” with two. The other day, someone told me that they hoped I was enjoying “all of the magical moments of motherhood”. I cried. I’m not even someone who cries but this is far from the magical time people make it out to be or pretend it is. Right now, this feels about as magical as what I imagine someone scooping my eye out with a spork would feel like .
Are there magical times? Heck yes. Snuggling a sleeping baby? Smiles when they wake up and see you? Carter biting me through my shirt because he wants to eat so bad which sends me into hysterical laughing fits? Dancing with Lucas to Adele because that’s the only way he will shut his dramatic mouth? Those are some fun times. But those times are followed by sleepless nights, 2 screaming babies that I never seem to have enough time to comfort before the other one starts up and my life being ruled by the milk bags attached to my body #yay. Nothing says fun weekend getaway like having to pump every 3 hours around the clock and find a place to safely store breast milk.
When you first have kids, everyone wants to come over and help but by the time they are 2 months old and you actually WANT the help, people expect you to have it together so the visits slow down, the food stops coming and people aren’t knocking down the door to come over. The problem is, I think I’m further from “together” than I’ve ever been before and when people offer to come help I get all offended that they think I can’t handle it. God forbid someone come into my house and prove that my babies aren’t a bunch of assholes. Then, that means that I’m the problem and uh, that’s obviously not allowed to be the case. It’s the dumbest thing, ever. Apparently, I seem to think that I’m going to be the whole village that raises twins alone. Stupid.
I’m fairly certain people think I’m being dramatic when I talk about how much work these two tiny humans are and I don’t blame anyone for that. I often say things like “I will LITERALLY die if I dont… ” or “I need to lose 400 lbs” or “this is LITERALLY going to kill me”. Dramatics are who I am. I was also never good with kids until they could say naughty words and make me laugh and I was born without a single motherly gene in my whole body. I used to spank my baby dolls for God’s sake and I had never been spanked a day in my life (this is all your fault, Mom). I was always the person who could have lived with or without kids, wouldn’t have mattered either way. Somehow, the universe took that as me saying “give me two at once”. It’s great. Really. But I’m sure that when I’m over here saying “no really, this kid is the devil” people imagine Luke playing quietly while I’m rocking in the corner because it’s too much for me to handle. I can promise you, it’s not the case! I’m SOMEWHAT together as a mom!
Carter is an angel. He cries when he has gas, is hungry or wants to snuggle. He’s a pretty normal baby. He’s a lot like Brandon in that he’s really laid back and as long as you feed him, he’s really quite happy. Luke, on the other hand, is me packaged into an 11 lb body. He cries when he’s hungry, when he has gas, when he isn’t held the right way, when the fan isn’t the right speed, when he isn’t rocked at the right pace or when he’s not the center of everyone’s attention. Usually, there is always one baby crying, always one baby who’s hungry, always one baby who needs to be changed and there is NEVER two babies sleeping. It makes for an extremely stressed mommy who feels like she’s never giving EITHER baby the love they need to stop them from being axe murderers (which is apparently a real fear of mine?).
This might just be me though, living the life of a hot mess mom. I have seen a couple of new moms since having the boys and the conversation usually goes like this:
Me: so, how are you doing?
new mom: I’m doing great!
Me: No, like, how are you really doing? (hoping that this can end in some sort of bonding hug because I need one, big time)
new mom: I’m really doing great. Aren’t babies just the best?
Me: oh, great! *drives the long way home and sits in her car for 20 extra min wishing for a heat stroke instead of having to go inside to tame the twin terrors*
Listen, I love my kids. I really do. There is nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for them but it’s H A R D and I cannot be the only one who wants to be able to sit on my couch, drink wine and scroll through pinterest at a normal hour without having to change a diaper, latch a kid onto me or beg my husband to let me run away. Maybe the judgey moms out there are just people who feel like they don’t have it together and need to put on a front like they do because everyone else does? Maybe we should all be supportive of eachother through the torture that is raising kids? Maybe I am just talking out of my ass and need to sit down and stay in my lane? Either way, I’ll be here bitching about how tired I am until the end of time if anyone needs to feel like they aren’t alone..
People tell me that these days will come and that I’ll miss this stage. I guess we will see. In the meantime, I’m off to comfort crying babies because our neighbors seem to think I’m not above calling the cops. Don’t these people know not to mess with tired moms?
Wish me luck.