Tuesday, January 5, 2016


I think that I can say with total conviction, that last night was the toughest night of being a mommy to two babies I have experienced so far.

Just as I had gotten the meatloaf in the oven, and just as I thought I would get to have one glorious hour of sitting down and possibly relaxing, my baby started to fuss. Naturally, this was also the exact moment my toddler absolutely needed me to build a train track bridge and have 3 books read to him. I tried my best to meet everyone's needs/appease both of my forces of nature, but it seemed like the baby's fussiness was ramping up. 

Was it ever ramping up. The next two hours were spent jiggling, rocking, burping, nursing, singing to, belly massaging, and bicycle-legging my littlelest boy. None of this mattered, he still screamed like a banshee with a microphone.

Meanwhile, sweet Noah was also trying to comfort his brother and yet at the same time still needed me to read him books and get him milk. At this point, I basically had to choose whose needs were most important and decided that Elias' uncharacteristic screaming warranted my full attention. After enduring lots of his acrobatics around me while I tried everything to soothe the baby, I finally, sternly told Noah to read his books in the living room like a good big boy and that I'd get him milk when I could. I detected a small face crumple, but it was brief. 

When Elias seemed to calm down, I rushed off to try to attend to my Noah, who ran up to me and worriedly confessed that he had ripped one of his favourite books. When I saw the book, it didn't look like an accident, it looked like he had ripped the book apart violently. "Why did you rip your book, Noah?" I asked. "Because I was sad. And then I was sad I ripped my book", he said. This just about broke my heart. I burst into tears and scooped him up in my arms for a big snuggle even though the baby had started to scream again in the other room. 

I felt so defeated. I tried my very best but it just wasn't enough. I know that in the long run, last night was barely a blip on the radar, and that neither one of them will remember it, but all I could think was that I had let my big boy down by ignoring his needs for the new baby. This boy who made me a mother, this boy who up until 12 weeks ago, was my everything. I guess the transition to two is a little bit tougher than I initially anticipated.

It's a new day though, and I swear to you, my boys, that I'm doing my very best for you.

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