Madness and Mayhem

Posted on | July 26, 2017 | No Comments

This knee-deep in baby is harder than I remembered. Yes of course I’d stand on my head for one of his laser beam smiles but those moments when I want to put him down and walk away? Those are there, too… like when he’s nursing and spends the entire time pinching the tender skin on the side of my breast or violently kicking my arm. Or when he lunges back in my arms and strikes my nose with a force that brings tears.

I’m so tired that I feel shrouded in a hazy cloud even when I’m awake, muddling through meetings and phone calls with a plastered on smile and nodding like one of those drinking birds even and especially when I’ve tuned out the entire conversation and am mentally just counting the moments until they stop talking and I can sink back into the murky waters of my own mind.

There are days when I’m not sure I’ve actually left the house much less worked eight plus hours and I can’t remember who or what was discussed or completed during my time in the office. It’s like my world has shrunk to the size of a 14 pound baby and my days begin and end with the slit of his half open or half closed eyes. It isn’t a bad thing… it’s just not exactly a good thing either, you know?

I wouldn’t trade my family for the world. But the bottles in the sink and the full diaper genie and the pile of diapers that didn’t fit in the full diaper genie and the spit up and the dirty clothes on the floor and the crumbs in the car and the whining and the back talk and and and? Those I would trade. For an hour. Or a day. Or a week. Or just long enough to remember that those are part of the magic and mayhem of childhood and parenthood. One more wet and sudsy hand wiped against my brow, one more shirt covered in dried spit up, one more load of laundry… inseparable from one more kiss good night, one more “good morning” snuggle, one more delicious grin and giggle.

Parenting is a trade off… so much exchanged for so much more. No more late nights laughing with the husband, but so many more evenings playing board games with an overly competitive 7 year old, or afternoons spent lying on a play mat watching a baby kick. Entertainment is different, better and worse.

Everything is different, for better or worse.

Some days I want to run away. Some days I think if I could just get back to the place where things are ordered and organized, I could start over again. Maybe I could twist my brain on tighter and be better at lawyering and mothering and spousing and well, life.

Then the baby laughs and the seven year old tells the world’s worst knock knock joke and suddenly this is just exactly right. This mad and discordant life we’re living is just exactly what it’s supposed to be: it’s messy and disorganized and beautifully insane and really, that’s all that we can hope for as parents and people. Because children, like life, will never be ironed and pressed. They’ll always be just exactly who they are: smelly, messy, whiny, crazy, beautiful, charming, hilarious, disastrous mini-versions of all the people they love.

And deep down, we wouldn’t trade them… even on the days we think we might.


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    Spilled Milk (and Other Atrocities) by Law Momma is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
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