I struggle with feeling down in the dumps pretty much every single January. The post-holiday letdown combined with frigid temperatures and generally bleak weather pretty much do me in. I thought this year would be different because my post-holiday blues didn't start the moment I rolled out of bed on December 26th like they usually do. I was all high and mighty, thinking my advent calendar experience helped me to enjoy the season SO much, be SO present that I wouldn't even be plagued by the usual letdown.
Well. January took my high and mighty and gave it a beat down.
Having two kids is hard. Have I said that before?
And, by the way, every time I say this, I have this nagging little voice in the back of my head that says, "You think two is hard!? Try 3. Or 4. Or 5. Or..." All I can say is, "Hey voice. Whatevs! That doesn't do me any good today!"
I am realizing more and more that sometimes I have a really hard time sitting in pain and not panicking about the fact that the pain is there. This doesn't always happen to me - I wasn't like this with fertility struggles or during the adoption processes - all very painful and difficult in ways. But somehow, in cases like this where there is an enormous commitment and a major life change involved (and loss of sleep), I just freaking panic.
"It shouldn't feel this way. It shouldn't be this hard. What is wrong? I'm not cut out for this. I must not be cut out for this. I can't handle two kids. What are we going to do? How can we fix this, change it somehow? IT SHOULDN'T BE THIS HARD!!!!!!!!!!!!"
To this, my amazing and insightful husband who knows me so very well, says, "Why wouldn't it be hard? This is a huge adjustment. Timon has been a really hard baby. You're exhausted. You haven't slept well in 5 months. You've been super sick for two weeks. Douglas is in a hard stage. You're still adjusting to two kids. Of course you're freaking out and of course things are super hard right now. It's just a season."
To this, I say, "wow...that actually feels really good to hear. Maybe I can stop bawling long enough to wipe the snot off of my face with something other than my sleeve. Maybe it really is ok to just feel this way. To feel freaked out and anxious and stressed and, some days, depressed and bored and like every day is Groundhog Day. Maybe I can just feel those feelings and stop there instead of using them to launch a full blown attack against who I am as a person - assuming that those feelings somehow mean that I'm inadequate, not up to the task, incapable of doing this well. Like God somehow made a gigantic mistake in giving me two children and asking me to help raise them. Maybe it's ok to just feel like crap sometimes and not read anything more into it. Life is just hard sometimes. This is a hard season. I am really tired. End of story."
It's amazing how the initial feelings themselves aren't the really terrifying part. It's my reaction to those feelings - my feelings about the feelings - that make me think my world is somehow ending. And I do that extra-special thing where I assume that how I feel today is how I'll feel for FOR-EV-ER - so, you know, that helps a lot, too.
I am blessed to have several friends who have said some version of "yeah - I've been there. It's total crap. It's so freaking hard. 1 to 2 kids is the hardest adjustment of all. You just have to survive it - get through it. I promise you it gets better. And if you need some meds to keep you afloat 'til then, then by God get you some meds, girlfriend." I love these beautiful women.
I do know that it's not really ideal to try to just survive things. Ideal would be staying present in the moment rather than just getting through it. Finding peace in the midst. But sometimes, some moments, some days, ideal is not possible. And in those cases, I say hat's off to me for getting through.
Photo taken by my very talented sister-in-law, Ashley
So here's what I'm doing. I am reaching out for all the help I can get my little hands on. We decided to have a babysitter come once a week during the day. We hired a cleaning service. My sister has made us dinners several times. My mom has jumped in her car twice this past month after desperate phone calls from me that involved more tears and snot and "I can't do this anymore!"s. She comes and gives me breaks that I desperately need - one day I went to a movie by myself and ate popcorn and drank a ginormous soda - it was magical. She cooks healthy meals and loves on our kids and wakes up with Timon in the night so that I can get some sleep.
It makes me and Micah really sad sometimes not having any grandparents in town. I am so very thankful for my mom's willingness to get in her car and come up to help during this crazy time, and for my dad who supports her doing that for me.
Side note about my mom: I always secretly thought she had ADD because the fact that two of us kids have it means it's very likely that we inherited it from somewhere. I realized last time she was here that, if she does have it, she has more long-term hyper focus moments (and days) than any ADD person I know. She comes knowing that things are a bit of a mess around here, so she goes into hyperspeed. I woke up one morning to find that she had done laundry, swept, and done dishes along with about ten other tasks that take me all day to get done - or sometimes DAYS. I looked at Dougie and said, "Wow. Grammy's kickin' A and takin' names!" He stared blankly at me. Her ability to hyper-focus and get things done is not what I'm most grateful for, though. I am grateful for her willingness to show up and love the kids and me and Micah and give of her time and her energy for no other reason than because she loves us. She gets very little in return other than several sleepless nights and, most times, a slew of germs and sicknesses to take back home with her. Total win-win for her. Obviously.
I have never been happier to see January 31st come and go. We've been super lucky to have an unseasonably warm January, but there's still something about that month that just gets under my skin. So. February 1 came with rays of sunshine and 60 degrees. I love you, February. May you bring me sleep and patience and fairy dust that makes me nice and friendly to everyone. Or, alternatively, fairy dust that I can sprinkle over my children to make them forget the times I screamed at them.
Although, truth be told, I agree with one of my friends who said that kids learn so much more from us making mistakes and humbling ourselves and asking their forgiveness than they would if we never made mistakes and were Mary-Freakin'-Poppins. All that would teach them is that they need to try to be perfect - and who wants that for their kids?!
Alright. Teach kids that they don't need to try to be perfect by making lots of mistakes of my own. CHECK. Double check.
2 comments:
My girl doesn't live local either and i am the mom who will run save her if she needs me. Nothing expected in return. Just loving my girl and knowing how hard it is to be a mom. Hang in there. It will get better. I promise.
Thank you, sweet Nonny! I so appreciate your encouragement. And G is so lucky to have you. There's something very encouraging and healing about having a mom who can relate and say, "Yep. This is super hard. I get it. I remember. I'm here."
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