I climb out of bed and turn off Dan's alarm. He offered to get up with the kids this morning. I let the puppy out and take a quick shower. At 7am I creep down the stairs. I can already hear Kenzie, who is laying on the floor, with her lips pushed against the bottom of the door, calling to me. "Mommy, mommy, mommy, mama, mama, mama, maaaaa, mommmmmmmmYYYYYYYY!"
I feed the puppy and put him back outside. I contemplate opening Kenzie's door, but decide to start with Ketcher. He is quietly looking at books in his bed, like normal. I hand him one of the many books I have memorized and proceed to recite it as I change his diaper. He is laughing at my different voices as I go through what each character says. He has an easy calm about him. I thank God every day for his soothing demeanor. The rest of us in this house are all type A people. We all fight for control. It's exhausting.
Meanwhile, Kenzie is calling out relentlessly, but just like every morning, she is a ticking time bomb and the first of many tantrums will come within the first 10 minutes of opening her door.
We finish up and I open her door a crack. She bursts out like a cannon ball running through the house yelling "NO GUS!" Gus (the puppy) is still outside. Ketcher creeps in her room and starts playing with a set of Peanuts characters she could care less about. She notices and goes into hysterics, grabbing and kicking at the small toys. Ketcher hands them over and sighs. He knows not to poke the bear, even at 17 months.
I make eggs, oatmeal, and bagels for breakfast, start Dan's truck, and lean against the counter looking at my hands. They are dry and have cuts all over. Between sewing Halloween stuff and arranging branches on the Christmas tree, they hurt.
You wouldn't notice, but I do.
I wonder if they are a reflection of what is going on in my head right now, I am hurting too.
I am tired. I am tired of the screaming, the reasoning with someone totally unreasonable, with the monotony that comes with parenting 2 small children, every day, all day. I am tired of the late nights of working, keeping the house clean, and cooking dinner. I am tired of simply keeping my emotions under wraps and acting like everything is great.
I know I have said this repeatedly, and I say it to myself every day... I designed this life for myself. I have 2 healthy children. I should be elated to be exactly where I wanted to be. Somehow this life is falling short of the grand scheme I had in my mind.
I thought there would be more hugs, more laughs, more happiness. Isn't that what the hallmark channel would lead us to believe? I thought parenting would bring a new level of challenge and closeness to my marriage. Didn't people tell me that when I got pregnant? Aren't I supposed to be relishing every tiny moment in this life I have created? Isn't that what Disney teaches us? That some day, after we have everything we want, we live happily ever after?
The harsh reality is that small children have no real emotional control. That the screaming and crying grates on your nerves. That doing simple tasks, like going to the store can be physically and emotionally draining. That two people from two different parents, parent differently. That there is very little time to spend emotionally connecting with your partner. That there is really nothing that you can control, aside from the daily activities you choose to do.
The dogs outside barking, pull me from my thoughts. I let them in and start cleaning up plates. The kids are running around the house like maniacs. Kenzie is screaming... so much screaming. I don't know how that girl still has a voice.
As I clean I start to wonder what my problem is...
Before children I would wake early, work out, enjoy the whole process of getting ready, eat a healthy breakfast, jam out to my music on the way to work. Sit in my office all day working to solve all the accounting puzzles that come with the job. I know I am weird like that, but I really do love what I do. I would go out to lunch with my work bestie and shoot the shit. Jam out on the drive home. Go out for dinner and drinks with Dan. Go to bed, and do it all again the next day.
So why did I even want kids? I was lonely. We are away from our families. It's Dan and I. He has his love of adrenaline inducing sports, and I had... a lot of time to think and wonder what my life would be like with someone to take care of. At the time we had 5 healthy, adult dogs. That just wasn't enough. I needed someone to bake cookies with, to help me decorate a Christmas tree, to give my life meaning.
I got it. I didn't want just one, safety in numbers. They can watch out for each other. For a while, things were fine. I was so happy. In awe of the 2 tiny lives we created. Now I have 2 toddlers and I am trying to find the happiness again in my daily life.
Every time someone tells me that these years are the hardest, and "it will get better"... I just want to burst into tears and hug them. I need comforting words like that. I need to know that there may be a time when I do get more happiness and less tears. That the laughter will come easily. That there will be more hugs and less hits. That things won't be so damn hard.
Ketcher is crying. The puppy has tackled him to the ground. I pick him up and he says "Eat?" This kid is a never ending pit of hunger. I fill a cup with cereal and send him on his way. Kenzie notices and is back in hysterics because she doesn't have a cup of cereal. I quickly remedy the situation, and she screams with glee.
Right now, everything is a struggle and I am tired.
You wouldn't notice, but I do.
A big thanks to Amber for telling me to tell the real story on my blog. I am glad to have you in my life.
