Two steps back

Operation No More Pull Ups has been suspended indefinitely. After two weeks Bobby still consistently peed every night, and started pooping his pants every single day which I theorized had to do with my restricting his water intake every night to reduce peeing, which then lead to dehydration, which then lead to constipation, which then lead to “soiling”. As an experiment I decided to put back the pull ups every night and encourage as much water drinking as he wanted, and voilà, no more random poop stains. I’m sure we both feel somewhat like failures, but the whole experiment lead me to lean far more on the side of “he’ll do it when he’s ready”. Clearly it can’t be forced or even encouraged. So that’s that. 

Next week I at last return to some band travel, which I haven’t taken part in since our Italy trip in December. I cannot wait to escape the every day drudgery and have some adult time, surrounded by inspiring peers. So often I feel like my whole life revolves around dishes, laundry, wiping surfaces, and minding other people’s poop schedules. I realized with a rush the other day that my event is coming up in just over four months and apart from opening for registration I’ve done pretty much nothing about it. So today I set about a flurry of organizing activity - a thousand emails dealing with a thousand topics. I need to reconnect with my work life. It’s been suffering the most lately. And it’s yet it’s still the area where I feel the most competent.

I think someday when I look back at these years with small children that I’ll be proud that I made it through, but I don’t ever think I’ll feel I was particularly good at it. It’s no surprise to me that my aptitude for rearing children is marginal at best; most of the time I’m just exhausted and everything feels like a monumental pain in the ass. How could it not, when you’re literally doing the physical work and carrying the mental load of three people? I simply don’t have the energy to keep up with two rambunctious boys. Maybe I’m too old or not fun enough. But tonight just felt like wrestling two flailing orangutans - trying to get dinner down their throats, homework done, violin practiced, bath administered, teeth brushed, poop butts wiped, pyjamas on - when all they want to do is run and kick and jump, is an exercise in futility. All nights feel like this, but tonight was especially hard. There was a lot of yelling and threatening of punishments. And yet I’m proud of myself that I didn’t completely lose it - I didn’t throw anything or start swearing or slam any doors. I didn’t let it get to me. I just accepted it as “one of those nights” and tried not to hold on to any resentment. I wish I could always be like that when things get hard. 

Tomorrow will be better. My fabulous 1930s Magic Chef stove at last arrived from the Midwest so I’m going to go visit it at the stove restoration place and give them a deposit to get started. This weekend I get to go dancing Saturday night, and next weekend I fly to DC. Until then I get to raid the boys’ forgotten Easter candy. Sometimes it’s the little things that get you through.