I am trying to write this thing and it is difficult. Doing most things with kids is difficult. It is early morning, which means my kids, who do not sleep through the night anymore, have spent the previous block of their time--oh, say, about the last ten or so hours--waking up, calling my name, crawling into my bed, or screaming. Around six they get up for the day and stay glued to me as I try to run away from them by cleaning in different rooms. One has half an excuse. At twenty months he is still nursing. I half think this is a beautiful mama miracle thing, and half think this is just horrible. Get off me already. But when he does, I might go back to an A and I like these girls. I look much better in a t shirt.
The other one has no excuse, if you ask me. Since her brother wakes her up every night, screaming his head off to be sprung from the crib, she comes out and crawls into my bed. I can not say "our" bed. My husband sleeps on the couch. I would like to say this is cause the kids get in there whenever they want, but the truth is he prefers it. We used to drink a ton more and he's slept on many couches after late night parties. I think he finds it soothing. And he snores so it's all good. For me. Because I get the bed alone for a good forty minutes before some one tries to take it over.
I try to avoid the kiddos in the morning because I am not a morning person. On the rare mornings I get my ass out of here before eight, I see moms and dads and kids bundled or sunscreened crammed into those Radio Flyer wagons or jogging strollers, picking up bagels for the sleeping parent at home or loading up on Dunkin Donuts and I wonder who the hell are these freakin people? Are they as grouchy as I am? How do they get dressed so quickly? Do they take their showers before anyone gets up (which for me would be around four AM which for me would be pretty crappy, I don't know about you)? Or at night so they still are kinda stinky when they actually have to talk to other people the next day? I can't figure it out. And, I also can't get out of this house very well before noon.
I am not a bad mom. I do get out before noon. Usually. But I do not like it.
My husband manages to sleep til almost noon, and I make myself see this as a charming person flaw on his part, rather than a reason for us to go to marriage counseling. Which I think of threatening every morning, around eight or so, when I've run out of places to hide in here.
Oh, see, look, I typed and typed and finally they got off of me. It's hard to nurse when your mom is wearing a crew neck eventually the three year old felt compelled to stand, turn her back side to me, and expel gas in my general direction. Horrible habit in the long run, but nice short term strategy for me to have maybe five minutes to not be a human jungle gym or personal maid.
So first post. More about me. I write, I teach, but most of the time I am with my two lovelies, Sam, twenty months, and Del, almost four. I love them. I do. But I have found the transition to motherhood to be fuck all crazy making. Perhaps I was a bit that way previously, but parenthood has stretched that to an entirely new and less solipsistic level, because when you are the pretty, slightly crazy, borderline stalker girl at the bar, you are really just in charge of just yourself. If you end up going home with, say, some English dude with a really cute accent and amazing blue eyes who reads literature at night and moves furniture during the day cause "that's just where I'm at right now" and that makes you swoon but later you find out he made a pass at your friend and also manufactures organic rufies in his apartment, well, you put no one in danger except yourself.
Once you have kids, you can't even make it to the bar to talk to those kinds of people cause they wake up too early to make drinking anything at night worth it. And you're probably married, so there you go.
I guess I am an old mom. I feel young. But when I had my son I was due to turn thirty five the day he was going to be born, and I was labeled an old mom. This was shocking. I didn't realize I only had til thirty five to pop out some kids and not be considered a national health crisis. I was given many pamphlets and I had many tests and many ultra sounds and my son was caught masturbating in every single one. Nice! The technicians refused to take pictures of him doing that, but by the third ultra sound it was like, it's okay to find an eleventh finger, just don't catch him spanking the monkey, please! before I end up in some study about how moms who wait to have babies are more prone to have baby boys who are pervs at conception.
I only saw my daughter once in an ultra sound and I'd eaten chocolate donuts just before and she was crazy in there. "Very active!" that tech said. They say this as if you're kid is about to be diagnosed with ADHD and they are just kindly pointing out she needs heavy medication. She did not calm down. She came out wide eyed and alert, absolutely beautiful, brilliant, and very clingy. This girl is the Eng to my Chang, seriously. She would crawl back in there except I don't open my legs for anyone anymore, even barely my husband (I love him too! I swear and promise).
So yes, there you have it. I would just talk to other moms about my experiences with motherhood, but many other moms won't come to the gutter with me. They are probably more mature. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone you came to visit.
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