Right now I am drowning in this parenthood thing. Drowning, I tell ya. The most frequent thought that runs through my head is packing a little knapsack and running away. Far, far, away. Seriously, I’m considering getting a job just to get a break. Is that crazy? Really I should have a handle on this by now, but I don’t.
EK is 2.5 and I think this is the hardest season we’ve gone through so far. For starters, only mom can do anything. Only mom can dress her, wipe her, hold her, pour her milk, put on her shoes, fix her noodles, etc. etc. etc. And second, she is wanting to be independent, bossy, and rule the roost. Then on top of the “push the limits” behavior, the binky fairy visited and took her binkies to all the babies of the world. Biggest Mistake Ever. This has totally rocked her world. And mine. And I’d just like to say right here for the record, the INTERNET IS A BIG, FAT LIAR!
I always go to the Internet because I don’t have an old, wrinkled, medicine woman from an indigenous culture living with me, but oh how I wish I did. First off, I timed the fairy’s visit with the farmer’s almanac for weaning animals and children. Stupid farmers.
Second, I was told by the so called “experts” it would be a couple of rough nights, maybe up to a week. Well, let me tell you folks, we are on day 11 and rough doesn’t scratch the surface. She still asks for it 2-3 times a day and all night. She’s not napping, she’s not sleeping, which translates into I’m not napping. I’m not sleeping. Which translates into one huge, grouchy mother.
Do you want to know what we’re doing? We’re crying. We’re fighting. And I’m drowning. I almost caved last night. I almost, after 11 nights, gave it back to her. It was pushing midnight and she hadn’t napped in days and everything was and is a crisis. But instead of caving, I got the Tylenol. A swig for her. A swig for me. Actually, a couple swigs for me and a carefully measured, accurate dose for her because she truly is a little sick which is like the cherry on top of everything else. We made it until 4:30 a.m. before the next crisis.
Right now the reason I’m able to even blog, is because my husband dragged her out of the house to go build a princess castle in the woods, whatever that may mean. I’m just thankful.
It means I’m alone. It means the house is quiet. It means I can refuel my soul from every ounce that has been drained from it, to prepare for the next siphoning session to begin.
I truly don’t know how parents do this? How do you people do this? So say a prayer for us, would you? I know this isn’t the biggest issue in the world, but it’s the biggest issue in my world, and I’m selfish. And tired.