“I just need you to listen to me. I just need to talk.”
My husband sat down across the table from me in silence as I worked through what I wanted to say.
You go to work every day and you can get stuff done and say “Okay! I’m done for the day,” and then leave to go home for the night before you go back the next morning and do it again.
My position isn’t like that. My position is a revolving door of things to do.
I can never say the dishes are done because there’s always one more.
I can never say the laundry is done because there’s always another shower.
I can never say the house is picked up and I’m done because there’s a toddler following behind me spreading toys around like he’s laying out breadcrumbs to find his way back home.
Even the mail is even never-ending.
There’s always a meal to be cooked.
A counter to be cleaned.
A diaper to change.
A lesson to be taught.
A hug to be shared.
And sometimes I just have to stop everything I’m doing to let a baby sleep on my collarbone in the most painful way.
I don’t leave at the end of my shift. It’s constant. I never get to say I’m done.
I know some days I kick butt, and others it looks like I’m not doing much – but those are just the days where the kids won.
Those are the days where the spitting, the messes, the tantrums, the head butting – they were too much. They overpowered me. The kid won that round.
I’m battling a toddler and a baby who have more spunk than I do and the ability to terrorize the house and everyone in it.
And this terrible two-phase is not for the faint of heart! I know it’s common to not really like this stage, or at times, the kid in it. But man it’s like overnight this kid went from being my cuddle buddy to this little rock-solid human wrecking ball that keeps coming at me and slamming into me like I have an order on me to be pulverized.
Instead of hugs, I get head butts. Instead of compliance, I get blood-curdling screams. When he’s mad he spits at me. He SPITS at me! Who even taught him this crap?
I guess what I’m trying to say is that sometimes I lose. It’s me against a toddler trying to see who can win the house for the day, and sometimes I lose. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not trying. It doesn’t mean I’m not cleaning or that I’m not doing the dishes.
It just means that day I lost. Simple as that.
Toddler: 1 Mom: 0
And I know I’m not supposed to say it’s mom vs kid – but let’s just be real for a second. It sure feels like it somedays.
But yeah, okay, I’ll admit – sometimes I really just do forget to do laundry. It’s in the basement and it’s really out of sight out of mind – ya know?
Rosemary & Mint
Mom of Two
She is a 29-year-old Hebrew Puerto Rican wife & mother with Bipolar (2) Disorder, a love for makeup, baking, and sleeping. Check out more of her blogs here.