Is It All Too Much?

Let me make one thing clear: I love my life.  I feel super-uber-incredibly blessed and would never trade places with anyone.

That said... I am freaking exhausted.  How do people do it?  In my head I know that people do this all over the world everyday and somehow manage to raise lovely kids and do their jobs well and maintain healthy marriages and take care of themselves.  If I had to describe my life right now, in this stage, in one world I would say it is RELENTLESS.  Always something to-do.  Generally something urgent.  Actually, usually more than one urgent thing to do at once.  Over and over.  All day.  All week.

I am up and out of the house before anyone wakes, rushing to the train.  I go and go all day at work, trying to keep up, trying to balance all of the responsibility.  I love my job, but it is demanding and the buck stops with me.  I respond to emails and read reports while I pump.  I leave work with an endless to-do list still to do.  I (literally) almost run to the train on the way home so I can get home in time to relieve Nani.

I want to fall over as soon as I walk in the door, but I see the kids' anxious faces, needing me to show them love and attention.  I chase Roscoe around the house telling him how much I missed him while he squeals with delight.  I cuddle Luka and nibble her neck and carry her, carry her because she does not want me to put her down.  And Roscoe wants to be held.  They need me.  But they also need to eat, so I try and distract them or play with them while I find something for dinner.  I look out the window every 30 seconds, hoping to see Ray's car pull up.  He gets home and it is perfect and lovely and chaotic.  And time is ticking because the kids need to be in bed in an hour.  Must eat.  Bathe.  Clean up.  Change.  Play.  Read.  Cuddle.  Sing.

Now for Me Time.  I pack my lunch and Roscoe's lunch for the next day.  I lay out my clothes so I don't wake anyone in the morning.  I pack my work bag and go through work emails and try and plan my priorities for the next day, so I don't drop any balls.  I do the dishes and half-heartedly pick up the mess of the day.  Ray tries to be home to play with the kids, but then often has to work after they go to bed.  We work next to each other in silence, no energy left.

I squint at my screen because I can't figure out when I will be able to go to the eye doctor to get new glasses.  I chew on one side of my mouth because I already had to reschedule two dentist appointments to get the cavity fixed.  I still haven't unpacked my desk stuff since we moved over a year ago.  There are piles all over the house needing my attention.  Weighing me down.  It is all weighing me down.

Where did the day go?  Where are the months going?  I feel like I barely saw my kids most days, like I haven't actually had a conversation with Ray in months.  But I can't feel sorry for myself because this is just life.  Many families need both parents to work.  Many family have two small children.  I don't know if our situation is any different or if I just have less energy than the average person because to me it really seems like too much.  Too much running.  Too much stress.  Too much achiness as I drag my body through the days.  Too much missing the man I married and the kids we adore.

Something has to change.  I don't know what it is yet.  But I will find a way.  I don't want this to be how my kids grow up and what I model for them to emulate.  If this is normal, I refuse to settle for status quo.  It is time to get creative...

Mama Trauma

Be still my beating-out-of-my-chest heart...

Background:  I switched around my schedule a bit so I have Tuesday mornings home with the kids.

Scene: Kitchen Table.  We were having a great time playing and eating breakfast (no tantrums yet, no stern voices, all fun).  Roscoe jumps up from breakfast and runs to the bathroom announcing he has to go potty (his clothes are already off because earlier he claimed he had an owie on his butt-butt and needed a band-aid...yes, I really will do anything for my kids.)

Now The Fun Begins: He gets to the bathroom and slams the door (unusual).  I grab Luka and check it out.  He not only slammed the door; he locked it, too.  I have picked the lock to his bedroom door many times and I wasn't particularly concerned about the bathroom because a) he never shuts the door and b) it is one of those push locks that are pretty easy to pick (except for this one).

I have actually had this scenario play out in my head many times, but it was always him in his bedroom and me trying to figure out how to break into his bedroom window.  First I tried to coach him through turning the knob to open the door.  He knows how to open doors, so I thought he could do it but "it was really stuck" according to Roscoe.  I go outside and check if the window is open.  No.  Shoot.

Then I tried a bobby pin.  No luck.  I try again to have him try and turn the knob "harder!"  "you can do it!"  Roscoe started whimpering a bit and telling me he was scared and come get him.  I teetered on panic and called Ray at work to ask how to pick the lock.  I tried a hanger.  And a paper clip.  No luck.  The thing is this original-to-the-house door had clearly had its lock picked a time or twenty and I just could not get the darn thing to pop.  I Google lock picking and watch a YouTube video, but nothing new there.  Crap.  Roscoe still scared.  Mama starting to really wonder what can be done.  All the while keeping a running conversation with Roscoe through the door and reassuring him that there is nothing to be scared of and I am coming to get him.  Roscoe keeps telling me, in a brave voice, that he is scared.  And panicking if I don't keep talking to him "where are you, Mama?!"

Mama Bear kicks in.  I will get in there.  NOW.  I strap Luka into her bouncy seat which she hates and never uses, but with the crawling now she gets into everything and I figured she can cry and be mad for a few minutes.  I go outside, clear the path to the window (praying I don't see any spiders), get out the ladder and a screwdriver and get the window open.  Hooray!  Roscoe is so happy to see me and I am so relieved to see his little naked body.  But, wait.  The window is high.  Above the tub.  I spent a good amount of time trying to contort my body through the window and figure out where I could go from there without hurting myself.  I am still coaching Roscoe to open the door - not this way, both hands, harder, you can do it.  And he does!!!  The door opens!!  OMG sweet relief.

For a split second... until I hear Luka scream.  I run down the ladder and into the house to see the bouncy seat upside down.  She had managed to flip it over with her in it.  Ugh.  I check for injuries and comfort her.  And Roscoe.  Life happens for a few minutes and then it is time to put Luka to sleep.  She will not sit still, though, and refuses to nurse.  She ALWAYS wants to nurse. I think maybe she is not tired and just needs to crawl around a bit more, so we play for 10 minutes and then I try again.  She still won't nurse and she coughs a little, which is odd.  On a whim, I put my pinkie in her mouth just to make sure she didn't have a bit of breakfast banana still in there and pull out A CHUNK OF... SOMETHING.  I have no idea what it is, but it is the size of a dime and very soggy.  OMG.  I almost put her down for a nap with that in her mouth.  She has had it in her mouth for who knows how long (I am assuming she got it during the pick-lock debacle).  I am so relieved, but shaken.

And then I realize.  It is 9:30am.  I have been up for hours.  I have not eaten any breakfast or had a sip of water.  Or coffee.  I am exhausted.  Apparently so was Luka because she went down for her nap pretty quickly.  I've said it before and I will say it again: this parenting thing is NO JOKE.

We've got a... Scoot-er?

Luka is mobile!  Just exactly what she is doing to propel herself across the room, that I am not sure about.  It is kind of a scoot-inchworm maneuver with hints of army crawling.  Whatever the case, she is speedier by the day.

And fueling all of that mobility is... a LOT of milk and food.  That girl can put it down.  There is a distinct possibility she takes in more calories than her brother who has no time for food when there are adventures to be had.  She may have her Daddy's coloring and head shape and feet, but she got her Mama's appetite!

Rocs & Lu

Luka is just a sweet, sweet pea.  She loves to cuddle (well, only Ray and I and sometimes Nani, but I don't mind...) and is so easy to smile.  She loves watching her big brother do just about anything.  She especially loves whenever both her and Roscoe are doing the same thing - like both eating a Mum Mum cracker or both rolling around on the ground.  Poor little Lu is cutting her SIXTH tooth (I think we are all desperate for a break after this one!) and getting cuter by the day (she is.  for real.)  She has this special look that she reserves only for Ray.  When he greets her after a day at work she gets this sweet little shy smile and kind of burrows her head while looking at him sideways, just eating up his attention.


Roscoe is as sweet and energetic as ever.  He is enjoying the Olympics and has added diving and "'nastics" to his tumbling repertoire.  Diving looks similar to other tumbles but then he "splashes" around after he flips.  His joie de vivre is contagious and the best stress-buster.  Some recent conversations heard around here:

(As we crossed the bridge into the City)
Me: Roscoe - do you see that City?  That's San Francisco!
Roscoe: I see a rocket ship!!  (that would be the Transamerica Building)

Ray (singing The Zombies song):  What's your name? (pause) Who's your Daddy?
Roscoe (singing back to the same beat):  My name is Roscoe! (pause) You're Daddy!

Life is indeed good.