I pissed myself, and other news

So I pissed myself last weekend. I went to a very nice Smc meeting at a park, and after a few hours took B to the bathroom to change his diaper. Somehow just the sight of a toilet signaled to my body that it was time to pee. And it didn't seem to care that I still had my pants on. Oh, it was awful. I felt it coming and tried frantically to undo the way too tight and complicated apparatus of my jeans, but I just managed to unload a full bladder all down my pants, right to my knees. And I couldn't stop it. I'd had little trickles here and there before, but nothing like this. All I could do was go ahead and change B's diaper, hot foot it in my soaking wet pants to the car that was a long walk away, in front of tons of people, corral two kids into their carseats which takes forever, sit on a baby blanket to save my car seat, and text the people from the meeting that I'd pissed myself and had to make a quick exit. Oh, the joys of post partum-!

In other news, have been kicking ass in the "keeping busy" department. Arranging things for us to do morning and afternoon has been a full time job - but is worth it, since we get home right before dinner and no whiny bored afternoon misery. I keep a list on my phone of places we can go and people who have expressed an interest in getting together for play dates. I've decided to approach this whole toddler thing like a job - as if I were a nanny. Those nannies have their shit together - toys labeled, other nanny friends they meet up with at specific times and days, varied activities for the kids to keep them stimulated. If they can do it, I can do it.

I met up with friends today who gave me two interesting ideas. They said they were able to get their two-year-old into a Head Start program, which is basically free pre-school. Maybe I've been approaching this thing all wrong. I looked up the system online and it is very confusing...but I'm going to pursue it and try to apply. All they can do is turn me down, right? At least it's not connected to Medi Cal!!!

They also talked about going to Hawaii in July, which is something we tried to do together some years ago but one or the other of us was always pregnant. I have free miles burning a hole in my pocket and can get a free stay at a fabulous Marriott there (unless I can get into their timeshare which is a possibility). It would be so great to do a trip like that with another couple with the same aged kids! I shudder at the thought of braving that flight alone with a baby and a toddler, but I could do it. Not being pregnant would help, and having help once I get there would be huge. It's also over my birthday week. So fingers crossed I can pull that off! Mama needs something to look forward to!

The Magnetism of Babies

It's a funny thing, what these little critters do to us. I never understood the power babies - in particular little, new babies - have over us until I observed my friends' reactions to my newborn(s). Everyone talks about how seeing him, holding him, makes them want one. Or another one. And I'm sure this is a thought they had not had a minute before.

I went to a wedding Saturday night, which was my first real outing with Theo as far as seeing my dance peeps and not just mommy friends. Everyone was abuzz about the mysterious package on my chest, and all asked the same things, and I responded the same things.

Things are going great.

No, I don't feel sleep deprived at all. 

The birth was much better this time.

Two kids is not as hard as I'd thought. 

Bumpus has really taken to his brother. 

I find myself repeating over and over how adding a baby has only added about 20% more work, not 100% more as I'd anticipated. That newborns are so easy. That once you're already in kid mode, adding one more is no big deal - the real shock is going from adult single childless female to mom; mom of one to mom of two is easy. 

A friend announced her third pregnancy on FB yesterday. It makes me wonder who's going to be next in the third kid club - there are a few candidates; women who are just young enough and have husbands enough to pull it off. These things are contagious. It reminds me of when I had chickens; when one would lay an egg, the other would sing this sad little song. It's hard to say what that song was about, but it always sounded like longing to me. 

I spoke to a male friend the other night who had called to congratulate me on the new baby. He asked if I was planning on having any more. He was the first person to ask me this. And you know, I'm not going to lie and say the idea hadn't occurred to me, much like the idea of buying one of those cute little Fiats or selling house and moving somewhere cheaper. It's hard not to contemplate something that you know is a possibility even if it's not realistic for your life. Yes, I am poor and old as heck, but I bet I could pull off one more child if I put my mind to it. People have babies at 43. But before my sister has a heart attack while reading this, no, this idea will stay in the realm of Fiats and new houses. 

It is scary though when you think about how all the reasons not to have one child are exactly the same reasons not to have the second or third or more - too old, too single, too poor, house and car not big enough, etc etc. So when do you decide you're done? When your body decides for you? Or when you just let the opportunity slip by, passive-aggressively?

I often think that had I been surrounded by single, childless people, I probably wouldn't have had any. If I had a dedicated group of single girlfriends I could travel with and spend all my spare time with, I would have been content with that. But luckily or unluckily that didn't happen; over the life span of every group, nearly all of the members eventually pair off and/or have children, leaving only a few stragglers. I was determined not to be one of those stragglers. My dance world is experiencing a massive baby boom at the moment - as noted earlier now including lots of moms of 3 or more kids - which I know is unusual. I swear we all just feed off of each other. I wonder how many pregnancies have begun as a result of a friend posting a picture of an ultrasound or a new baby on Facebook with resultant "likes" and comments? How many of us see these posts and find ourselves singing that strange, sad song of longing, the song so ancient and primal that we don't even know we're singing it?

One month

Free donuts

Thanks for all your sympathetic comments on my last post. I do think it helps to know that others struggle, too, which is one reason I've chosen to be so honest about even my ugliest feelings. I recently read a blog about toddler parenting in which the author said sometimes you just want to put them in a box by the curb labeled "free donuts". Ha ha! So true. Anyway, onwards and upwards, huh?

So I had a perfectly horrible episode on Monday where I was walking with a friend and suddenly got extremely nauseated - I was able to barely crawl back to the car and drive home (pulling over and getting out to sit on the street a couple of times), but when I got to the house I had no choice but to leave the kids in their carseats and run out and throw up all over my sidewalk. The rest of the afternoon was just torture - four hours of Bumpus tearing the house apart while I breastfed the baby while repeatedly running to the bathroom, about to throw up. And always with the terror that now the kids, including my (then) three week old baby, were going to get it, too. I finally got B to bed and my friend from the walk brought over some pills called Nux Vomica. I don't know if they worked or the thing had just run its course, but I recovered after that, and nobody's been sick since. Was it food poisoning? Maybe; I had eaten a suspicious coconut curry I'd frozen several months ago for dinner the night before. This immediately went down the garbage disposal, along with everything else a little old in my fridge. But boy, what a horrible episode! I swear I've thrown up more in the past four months than I have in my entire life. 

Anyway, other than that and B's bad morning, it's been a good week. I've really hustled to keep us busy, and have had some nice interactions with other kids. It's gratifying to see them actually remember each other and play together now. Bumpus has "friends"!

Today is going to be interesting. I am going to my babysitter's wedding, which means - no babysitter. Since it takes place in the evening right as B has dinner and bedtime, I decided to take him to the Baby Kennel rather than have a total stranger come over and try to feed him and put him to bed. But this plan is suspect too, since for three weeks now I've taken him there one weekend day a week, and now that he's transitioned to the preschool group...he hates it. Or at least, screams and clings to me when I drop him off, and cries and clings to me when I pick him up. Which he hadn't done in a very long time, and which makes me wonder if I should tough it out and keep taking him, or just stop. But then there's tonight where I really don't have a choice; there's no way I can bring him to this wedding and there's no sitter. And I'm going to this wedding, dammit. So they'll put B to bed and I'll drag him out of bed at 10 PM and take him home, and I have no idea how that'll go, or what he'll be like tomorrow, or how I'm going to balance breast feeding this baby, getting B ready to go, and getting myself dressed up for a wedding, all at once. Trying to keep up with a newborn's feeding schedule and a toddler and everything else you have to do is not easy. I feel like I hardly fed the baby at all yesterday, and feel tremendous guilt about that. It seems like I fed B every couple of hours at this stage; this one sometimes goes 4-5 hours without eating (during the day). But I do feed him a lot during the night, and he is gaining weight and seems content. So...? 

Wish me luck tonight. It's going to be an interesting experiment.

Toddlers are Awful, Part MMXVII

So...not to contrast too much with my happy sunny posts lately, but...oh my God, toddlers can be so awful!

I understand when they throw fits over things that make sense, like being denied something, or having to go to bed or take a bath, etc...but it's the endless meltdowns over nothing that drive me utterly insane. This morning B just lost it while I was making breakfast, for no reason. Nothing out of the ordinary. Perfectly pleasant morning before then, getting dressed and playing with the baby on the bed. So why the hysterical crying, pushing me, throwing things, yelling no? Why? I just lost it. After listening to this for probably half an hour and trying everything to distract him, including just ignoring it, and after his freaking out further when I tried to help him get settled on his chair which he couldn't possibly pull out by himself, I took him by his shoulders and tossed him on his bed, shutting the bedroom door behind him. Judge all you want. It was what I had to do in that moment.

As I sat at the table utterly defeated and guilty, my heart broke as I looked over at his cute little breakfast - cut up buttered toast and milk in a sippy cup and scrambled eggs with his little spoon. Why do kids' things always radiate this air of joy and innocence, yet life with kids is so often situations like this - ugliness and anger and crying? 

I hate the rage he inspires in me - it scares me, and I wish I had more control over it. I still think I have a pretty long fuse, believe it or not, but man oh man. I simply cannot stand these inexplicable endless tantrums. Cannot stand them. Thank god I at least have a room to put him in so we can both calm down - for the record when I let him out he marched right over to the table, climbed up on the chair I had pulled out for him, and obediently ate his breakfast. And the rest of the day he was nothing but delightful. So...what the fuck?

It makes me wonder if living with a toddler is anything like living with a mentally ill person. Always being on eggshells wondering what the person is going to be like that day, dealing with their inability to communicate, dealing with their loose grip on reality, dealing with the power struggles, having given up so many things that give you pleasure because you love this person and want to care for them, but some days it just hardly seems worth it. Sometimes I wonder if all parents of small children just walk around shell shocked, wondering what happened to their sweet, compliant little baby, and wondering when it's going to get better again, because right now, it's pretty horrible.

A friend of mine with a two year old recently admitted that since she stopped drinking wine in the evenings she mostly just wants to kill herself. She was half kidding, but the pain was real. Her son is a real handful - the kind of scene I described from this morning which is a rarity around here she says happens to her all day, every day. That he's pretty much never not throwing a tantrum. What would I do if I had a kid like that? What if Theo is like that? I think I would take up drinking wine - or kill myself - or both!

I swear if there was a therapist who specialized in traumatized parents of toddlers, I'd sign up for that in a heartbeat, cost be damned. I feel like I need to talk to someone about how compromised I feel, how much I need some time to myself, how I spend every day counting the minutes until it's his bed time. How much better of a parent I'd be if it wasn't my job 24/7 and if I ever got a frigging break. 

I think this has all ramped up lately because now even the time I usually reserve for myself - B's 6 pm bedtime until my bedtime - is no longer mine, as I juggle a fussy, endlessly breast feeding baby with making myself dinner, straightening up the house, and (god forbid) actually getting some work done. Since the baby is in the carrier or car and sleeps all day, he then takes the evening/overnight to be fussy and eat. I don't know how to fix this, since the alternative - fussy, hungry baby during the day when I have to entertain B - is not feasible. It does all leave me pretty damned exhausted. 

I can't wait until this first six weeks of T's life is up and I can get back to some of my child-free activities, once I'm ok with leaving him with a sitter. Singing gigs, movies, book club, dinners out - these are the things that I need to feel human again. Also, a smile from the little lad wouldn't hurt. 

I honestly don't know how we all survived toddlerhood, since I'm sure we were all in our own unique way, awful. Our parents must have been saints.

Lucky

Not much to report except that things are going well. So far, as I'd hoped, having two small children is a lot easier than I'd anticipated, mostly due to a few factors - during the day I pretty much only nurse Theo in the car either when we arrive somewhere or as we're about to leave, so I don't have to worry about chasing down B with a baby on my boob; baby wearing around the house; and keeping my time with B strictly 9 am - 6 pm so I get some time to myself. These things are life savers. 

Every morning B bounds out of his room and clambers on to my bed so he can see Theo and pat his head. Today I let B hold T for a few seconds in his stroller and the look of utter delight on his face was priceless. I'll get a picture of this when I feel like I can safely pull out my phone!

There are a few annoying things - B has decided he won't be using his high chair anymore and so squirms and runs around during meals which drives me batty; also has decided his hair is the best place to wipe dirty food-covered hands; also refuses to wear a bib so every outfit gets covered with a cascade of food. 

But my friends buried their baby girl yesterday so I kind of don't feel like complaining about anything...ever again. I didn't go despite having been personally invited; there was no way to arrange child care, and I wouldn't want to be away from T this soon anyway, and bringing him would have felt awful. Theo, the one who made it. People who went said it was a rough day. 

Someone on my smc Facebook group gave birth - miscarried - at nearly 17 weeks. She said she was numb and may not try again. It just reminds me how lucky I am - we are - who have living children, despite the odds. I don't kid myself that it's anything other than luck that has me sitting here with two beautiful kids, believe me.

I Didn't

Just for my own (and hopefully someone else's) entertainment, since I have found myself recounting the story of "all the things that could have gone wrong, but didn't" about the pregnancy/birth to so many friends lately, I thought I would write it out. It's quite amazing when you look at it, and I hope will give some succor to anyone reading who is experiencing anxiety about their upcoming pregnancy/birth.

I didn't have a chemical pregnancy

I didn't ever have an ultrasound in which I was told, "I'm sorry, there's no heartbeat"

I didn't find any problems in any genetic tests

I didn't get cut down by debilitating nausea

I didn't get put on bed rest

I didn't miscarry

I didn't go into pre-term labor

I didn't have a preemie at any time

I didn't go too late and have to be induced

I didn't trip and fall and suffer placental abruption

I didn't have any bleeding that actually meant anything

I didn't get an infection that jeopardized the baby

I didn't gain tons of weight

I didn't hurt myself or the baby while caring for my heavy two-year-old

I didn't get in a car accident

I didn't develop gestational diabetes, HELLP syndrome, pre-eclampsia, cholestasis, or PUPPS

I didn't have incompetent cervix and have to have a cerclage

I didn't have to have an emergency c section

I didn't have to have a planned c section

I didn't hemorrhage and have to have a blood transfusion

I didn't get stuck delivering at home, in the car, in an ambulance, or at some random ER

I didn't get stuck panicking over child care while in labor

I didn't end up delivering alone because the doula didn't make it

I didn't have prodromal labor for days or weeks

I didn't have to drag some well-meaning friend out of bed in the middle of the night to drive me to the hospital

I didn't have my water break somewhere inconvenient

I didn't go into labor far from home or the hospital 

I didn't repeatedly get sent home from the hospital being told I was not in labor

I didn't get stuck on pitocin, magnesium, or any other unpleasant drug

I didn't throw up

I didn't snap at anybody and have to apologize later

I didn't have an epidural that went horribly wrong

I didn't have a baby in major distress during labor

I didn't have a baby that got stuck and had to be vacuumed out

I didn't majorly tear, I don't think - because -

I didn't ask

I didn't have a panic attack

I didn't find myself mentally or physically incapacitated after giving birth

I didn't have a weird/disappointing reunion with my older child, also re: the brothers meeting

I didn't have milk supply issues

I didn't have a baby with unexpected health issues

I didn't panic upon being left alone with two little kids

I didn't let the house go, stop showering, or putting on mascara

I didn't ever have the thought that a second child, or any children, was a terrible mistake 

So basically, so many of the fears I had simply did not come to fruition. Oh, except for the pooping. That happened. But pretty small compared to what could have happened, right?