Sunday, August 14, 2011
Don't get me wrong, motherhood is the most rewarding experience of my life so far. I love Natalie with everything I have and wouldn't trade her for anything in the world... possible exception of a Margarita night here and there. It has now, however, been confirmed for me that my mother might not be anything like a saint, but rather should have been committed to an insane asylum oh, say, 28 years ago...
My mother had me in 1983, when she was 25 years old. She then continued to have my brother in 1984 and our youngest brother in 1985. I wonder what in the world she was thinking, and then can only conclude that she wasn't. I have been pregnant a majority of the time I've been married now, and though I have an almost 2 year old and am 32 weeks pregnant with another, I think I should have been committed, too.
My husband, on the other hand, deserves a medal of honor. I cannot imagine being married to a hormonal, tired, cranky, starved wildebeast of a wife that I can sometimes be. I could blame the babies. After all, they cannot defend themselves. It's the perfect set-up. "The baby needs chocolate..." "I need to sleep so the baby can grow..." "This baby is sucking the life out of me..." Even my husband who has never been pregnant knows that's a line of, well, baby poo.
I wonder if our predecessors had the right idea, a tinge of whisky on the gums for "teething" (translation: shut up and sleep so I can) and letting the child cry itself to sleep (translation: I can't handle it anymore and its easier to tune you out.) I must admit that while the whisky trick is tempting, I'd never do it. I love Natalie too much to take that risk. I do, however, let her cry-it-out. I'm still lazy and use disposable diapers because it is infinitely easier than washing poop out of cloth. I let her have a cookie sometimes because it is easier than slicing an apple. I let her sit and watch television just so she will stop running the dog ragged for ten minutes. And, I blame most of this on her baby sister. (shhhh, don't tell anyone.)
Having felt Caitlin's movements for the past 4-5 months, I've developed an attachment to her that I really didn't get much of with Natalie just because I was so afraid to lose her. That doesn't change the fact that I'm beyond ready for her to evacuate the premises. I will hug her and hold her and feed her and change her, but I want my body back! So, in the meantime, I'll use her as an excuse. I can't mow the lawn or move the laundry around because it will hurt her...
Mostly, though, I just can't wait to meet her. Even though I know the insanity of two children running wild through my house will make me more tired and possibly less sane, I can't wait to see them smile and laugh with each other. Soon, my Natalie will not be the only baby in the house and while part of me is sad for that, I'm excited for her to learn what it means to be a big sister. She's going to be amazing and for that, I will sacrifice my sanity.
Posted by Woman Running With Wolves at 2:11 PM