Emailing at O’Dark Thirty

Look – don’t pretend like you’ve never done this. And if you haven’t, I bet you’ve thought about it. And if you’ve seriously never found yourself in this position – then that annoys me.

Are we all familiar with the enraged email that you bang out – usually to your spouse – at o’dark thirty? When you know that you probably shouldn’t be sending it and you know it definitely isn’t productive – and odds are it might not even be his fault – but really – he’s the one who got you pregnant and it’s therefore it’s his kid that has you up at that time- and he’s not there to help you deal – so really – isn’t it oh so cathartic?

It just  might be oh so wrong.

But it feels just so right.

And frankly – very little feels right at 4am. When you’ve been up for an hour already. And you don’t know when it’ll end but you know the sun comes up around 5:30am, therefore DD1 (who is also the child of said male you are sending threatening emails too, therefore it’s his fault) will be up – so really – your day began at 3am.

So why send the threatening email at o’dark thirty?

Why the hell not. KT might have found herself doing such a thing on Tuesday morning. I was all by my lonesome. This was the second hard night I’d had in a row with DD2, it was absurd that she had been up since 3am.Meanwhile DH was peacefully sawing logs back at home, with nary a care in the world, and an empty house facing him when he arose that morning. He could take his time, slumber around, do whatever the f he wanted before going to work, when he woke up.

But me? Oh hell no.

So is sending the threatening “get your ass to work early so that you can get home at a decent time and give me help or you are dead f’ing meat because I’ve already been up for an hour and it’s f’ing 4am” email a good idea?  I’m thinking YES because it just feels great to bang that out. Now doesn’t it?

Haven’t you done something similar?

I know that I cannot be alone in this, kittens. Fess up.

But see – this brings up another topic. The threat built into the email. Even if you haven’t sent your DH a threatening email at 4am, admit that you’ve sent him a threatening email. And the thing is, I really have found that when they know we really mean it, we finally get some action. Why do they respond to threats or yelling? Cause I know we don’t want to hear threats and yelling coming out of our mouths (well, actually, frankly, threats at 4am when I know he is sleeping elsewhere is exactly what I want to hear).

But seriously.

Example – yesterday DH left his office and got home by 4:30pm.

FOUR THIRTY.

Granted he read that email bright and early and actually went to work at 6am. But still. 4:30. It was like a christmas miracle. And it just teaches me that threats work.

Another example – we bought these beautiful number tiles in Provence in June 2007 (back when we had only one kid and we were in France. Alone. Without her. In other words, the glory days of June 2007).  Now, until 2 weeks ago, do you think those beautiful house tiles, that DH himself picked out, had been hung? Mais non! They had been pushed around and the topic of countless discussions and nagging sessions for TWO YEARS.

Well, I woke up with a real bee in my bonnet that morning and really laid into him. And you know what? Those tiles were hung that very day – he just quietly got to work and got it done (in like an hour, I might add, so if you count up all the time I’ve asked, pleaded, begged, nagged and most recently yelled, I spent more time asking than it took to complete). They look so great and now the front of my house looks how it’s supposed to look – dressed up with numbers from Provence.

So why do they respond to threats and yelling? Why? Why? Why? Cause the truth is, unless it is 4am, I really actually don’t want to do those things.

Yet between coming home at 4:30pm and hanging my French house numbers – you think I’m gonna refrain from a little yell or a threatening email again, when the opportunity presents itself?

Oh hell no.

Am I alone here, kittens?

3,2,1….BLAST-OFF

That is how I feel as each day starts, as the sun is barely rising over the horizon……..it’s like we blast-off at mach 10 and there is barely a second to think until 14 hours have passed.

Life with two kids is exhausting.

Let me write that again – this time imagine it in 84 point font in bold – EXHAUSTING.

Lately I hear myself sound like that mom. You know that one that you hear at the park and you’re horrified and think to yourself, I will never bark at my kids like that and be so impatient. You know that one that you are rolling your eyes at in horror.

Remember one of the fight club rules at KT? Whenever you think you won’t be that person or it won’t happen to you – it will and it does – and usually worse than you think.

So clearly I need a break. I think two weeks of sick kids, including an emergency 24 hour hospitalization for DD1 (and yes, of course I was alone with both kids at the docs when we were rushed to the hospital) – hasn’t helped and has in fact, made me raw and beyond the point of exhausted. But still. Wow. This is hard.

At first, I really didn’t think adjusting to two was that big of a deal. Newborns are easy, I thought. And honestly, compared to an insane toddler and when you are doing it the second time around, newborns really are easy (with the exception of colicky babies or an illness). All they do is sleep. Sure they don’t sleep a lot and so you don’t either but that’s nothing new – so it’s not a hard transition.

But then they start to grow up. They sleep less, they regress in sleeping patterns, they learn more about what they want, they whine endlessly between 5-7pm, they become more demanding because well – they are older and wiser.

And your older one is still, well, demanding – because at least mine is 3.5. She’s old enough to assert her independence and want to do everything herself – but that can be very frustrating and time consuming and patience exhausting.

It’s funny – it’s like they play tag with you. DD2 is easy because she eats whatever I put in front of her. With DD1, most meals and even getting her to eat is a battle. An exhausting, draining one. But I won’t back down, she needs to eat and “healthy choices” is a constant phrase around my house.

Then it’s nap time. DD1 goes right to bed. DD2, she fights me and drags it out, then I get her to sleep, then she wakes up literally 45 minutes later and up I go again to get her back down, and so it goes. It’s always something.

Through this, don’t get me wrong. I love love love being home – I never once find myself missing work or feeling like I am missing out or wishing I could put on a suit. I would honestly tell you if I did. And I love our lazy afternoons at the park, watching DD1 and DD2 make each other laugh and giggle, or painting at 11am on a random Tuesday.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not tired to the bone and wondering when things will ease up. Most days I feel steamrolled.

I used to go to the gym at 6am because it was the only time of day I could workout. It still is the only time of day I can workout but now I go to the gym at that time because I need to get the f out of the house and be by myself and have quiet time. It gives me the strength to power through the next few hours.

I was the sleep police with DD1 and I still am with DD2. The reality of naps for the second child is that it revolves around the schedule of the older child. This kinda sucks for the second kid but whatever, if you have an active 3 year old in your house, you know you need to get the hell out and just hope the baby will sleep in the stroller (mine, as it turns out, refuses to do that). The good thing is that morning naps for DD2 are spotty but I’ve forced them both onto the same afternoon nap. Sometimes I do get 2 hours of quiet time at the same time. Not every day – DD2 often wakes up mid-way through her nap and needs help getting back down – but I stand firm. At least this time round, I know that these phases will pass and I remind myself of that over and over again as I am feeling raw and like I’m going to lose it.

Blast-off is really the only way for me to summarize life with a 3.5 year old and a six-month old. I was reading an entry on the Washington Post “On Parenting” blog and it’s what really spurred me to write this entry. The author wrote that when you add a second child to the house, you are adding a whole new set of needs and demands and wants but the number of parent hands stays the same. Indeed. And it means a whole lot more work for daddy, that second child.

DH is very helpful with the kids, I really cannot complain about that, and he can see when I am teetering on the edge and will suggest I get out. But I’ve also really worked hard at actively carving out time for myself on the weekends. I think it’s the key to my survival but also it’s important for him to be alone with them. Not because he doesn’t know how to care for them but because I think it’s important for them to just have daddy time.

At first, DH just had to take over care for DD1. I had a c-section with DD2 and physically couldn’t manage a 3-year old for at least the first three weeks. Before DD2 was born, I was the only one that DD1 wanted (I was the only one she wanted for basically the entire second year of her life. That can get old). The end of my pregnancy really changed that because I also couldn’t carry her upstairs anymore or manage wrestling her onto the potty. So she had to learn to accept daddy in her life. It was a battle. She really was only-mommy, all the time for so long, but I knew I needed to step back for her sake because I knew daddy was the best she could get once DD2 arrived. She eventually relented and realized that daddy was pretty awesome, so it was fine for her that daddy was on full-court press with DD1 with the arrival of DD2.

Now that I have been home for two months, she’s easing back into an only-mommy phase but she’s also older – so you can reason with her or frankly, just ignore it, much easier than you can with a 2-year-old. But daddy’s involvement and participation and help is more crucial than ever. I really have no idea how single moms do it.

So what is my point in all of this? Well, frankly, I just need to blurt it all out because I’m so tired and exhausted and I know it’ll get easier but just blurting it out makes me feel better. My point is also not to scare anyone having a second. Trust me – seeing the siblings laugh together and play together is amazing. It’s amazing like when you have your first and realize what true love is – you remember that feeling? Well, it’s amazing like that.

Everyone has an opinion. Some say the transition from 0-1 is the hardest. Others say the transition from 1-2 is harder because you are already in a routine with the one and it’s a big adjustment. The majority say adding a third isn’t even mentionable once you’ve got two. Right now, I think the transition from 0-1 was the hardest for me because it was just such a shock to my system.  I also know that having a baby and a 3 year old is just hard. It’s universally hard for anyone doing it. They both are so needy and dependent on you, it’s basically unrelenting.

I think the best way to summarize life with two kids is really and truly “BLAST-OFF.”  Strap yourselves in and try to enjoy the ride, kittens.

It’s A Little People World

There was a time when I would discuss things like celebrity gossip and awesome summer shoes with my BFFs. We would send links. Links to breaking gossip, links to great shoes, links to reviews of new cool restaurants in town.

Now?

Now.

The most recent link I received in a group email with the BFFs was a link to a list of the best parks in the area.

And I got excited about it. I book marked it. Then the next day I loaded the two kids up into the car and drove 25 minutes to one of the parks listed.

I drove.

TWENTY FIVE MINUTES.

Even though I can walk to a park in my hood.

And then I told some other friends at preschool about the link. And about the park I drove too.

And then I realized – this is f’ing pathetic. We are all excited about it. We are all talking about it. And no, it’s not about Angie and Brad or summer espadrilles. I don’t even know what’s going on in those areas anymore. It is parks. WE aren’t cool. This includes you too.

But see, it doesn’t end there. The kinds of things we discuss doesn’t just stop there.

And I am caught up in the visual aspect of one of the things we’ve discussed lately.

See, one KT BFF realized one day that there are lots of people out there who look like Little People. You know, the Fisher Price Little People. Don’t pretend like you haven’t noticed that the guy at the gas station looks remarkably similar to the dude driving your kids  Little People bus.

It’s a Little People world, kittens.

They are EVERYWHERE.

Many even have those same dumb smiles pasted on their faces.

It can make even the mom in the worst mood of all times, laugh, on occasion.

So keep an eye out, and you’ll start spotting them. EVERYWHERE

And in the meantime, just ‘fess up, the links you are sending probably aren’t that cool anymore either.

The Minivan Mafia

I’ve posted before on some of the things I didn’t anticipate about having two kids…..and I can tell you….there is one thing that never even occurred to me and it is the bane of my existence, my least favorite part of the day, the thing I hate the most…..have I made myself clear? Are you curious yet?

Ahh…..what is it, you wonder curiously..

THE PRESCHOOL PARKING LOT.

And Minivans.

SOMEONE KILL ME NOW.

Prior to becoming a mom of two, I never once considered the preschool parking lot. Also – I didn’t go that often because our old nanny would take DD1 and pick her up the majority of the time.

Parking lots are a funny thing. But for some reason, they are inherently social. People love to stand around and gab in them. Teens love to skip school and smoke cigarettes, thinking they are cool, in them.  Some people get lucky in them. Lots of things happen in a parking lot. But a preschool parking lot is a whole different orbit.

And the grand enemy of the preschool parking lot is the mom running late driving a minivan.

And the people that loiter forever.

Why, you ask?

Because the loiterers get there early and are the last to leave…and they hog all the prime spots closest to the front door of the school. And the moms running late in minivans do this – they zip into a spot, don’t care that they are close to the line because their door slides open, and they move on.

So enter the mom who also (perpetually) runs late but drives a four door sedan – and guess what – OH – she cannot park in these spots because the jerks in the minivans didn’t take the time to straighten out.

Why does this matter, you ask?

Because when you have two children, you need to use both doors to get both children out of the car – and if you can’t open the door wide enough on one side to get the absurdly large and heavy infant car seat out – or wide enough to even get your toddler out – then this spot is rendered useless. It is a waste. It is just being horded for some other late mom driving a minivan. It’s almost like the minivan mafia, come to think of it.

Chalk this up as another reason I despise the minivan. (Is it me or are most husband-wife teams split on the issue of the minivan? One parent is pro-minivan and the other is adamantly anti-minivan. You know where KT stands. ANTI. This actually stands as a legit reason to not have a third child, in my head, to avoid the minivan).

OK – so that is part of it.

Then there’s just the reality that it is a total freaking pain in the ass to drag a baby into preschool. That carseat is so heavy, you’ve inevitably woken them from an otherwise quiet and peaceful nap, and as the weeks pass, they quickly get too heavy in the carseat so then you have to get them out of the carseat and carry them in, while holding the toddler’s hand and carrying her schoolbag and lunch, while making sure you are keeping your eye out for moving vehicles that you can be sure your toddler isn’t really paying attention too.

It really isn’t pleasant or awesome. I am sure there are easier ways to do it (arriving on time could be one but that is too hard). And you better believe that after many very sleep deprived nights, I almost left a few ranting nasty notes on the windshields of those minivans barking at them to move the F*ck over and learn how to park straight so the rest of us can park next to them instead of 10 miles from the front door of the school, thank you very much. And kiss my white ass while I’m at it.

I haven’t.

But man have I been close. REAL close.

I know there are people out there who feel my pain. And if you don’t have two kids yet and one in preschool – then your time will come and I’ve warned you. And if you happen to be driving a minivan by the time this happens to you, park straight in the spot, will ya? If you join the Minivan Mafia I will cut you off.