The Ungrateful Mother
It was Segunda's first Christmas and the first Christmas that Prima really and truly got it. And like a lot of parents out there, we were navigating the meltdown minefield leading up to Christmas and post-Christmas. Christmas Eve, Prima had a mammoth meltdown. I carried her to her room, and helped her calm down. It took at least 30 - 40 minutes for her to get it under the control. In the meantime, she kicked me in the head and refused every offer of comfort: weighted blanket, big blanket, house blanket (yes they all are distinct blankets). I continued speaking calmly to her as she raved and raged. Eventually she calmed down. I needed a stiff drink, but acquiesced to her request to play Uno on my bed. Then I let her help me sort Legos from my Christmas present to myself. Let me say here that I buy myself Christmas Legos every year in the hopes that I can have several hours of solitude to put them together. Once a year, I want some time to myself to sort, assemble, and meticulously follow directions. I will explain in a minute how that went. Oh, and my inlaws were over preparing Christmas Eve dinner watching husband and I with our two children. Husband had Segunda who was upset and scared because of Prima's meltdown. If he hadn't been home, we might all be in straightjackets right now.
Christmas came and was delightful. Prima knew her Santa present and Segunda knew exactly which Santa present was for her. Both played with their Santa presents for a long time before opening their presents. They loved everything and fought over each other's gifts. It really was fun. Then I made the mistake of forcing Prima into a dress for Christmas dinner at her Nana's house. Her Nana insisted that she be dressed up at least for gift opening. I told Prima it was only for an hour and then she could change. You can guess how that went.
The day after Christmas is the day I build my Legos. I had both children hanging off of me all day. Literally. Segunda was on my hip for the bulk of the day. Prima kept insisting that I hurry up so that she could play with it.
Segunda has not been sleeping well and shrieks and screams throughout the night. This is very different from when we brought her home. She slept the night through - no fuss no muss. Now, good grief, I'm exhausted. We have both children in our bed and they both sleep smack on top of me and fight over me. It's very restful. Not! When Prima is not kicking me in the head or otherwise head butting me, Segunda is punching me in the face with her casts all night.
Today Segunda had a rage-athon when we were in a bookstore downtown. We left the bookstore in haste and put her in the car. She raged and kicked and punched and screamed and screamed and screamed. Husband drove and drove and drove. The kids napped. And we discussed triggers for the girls and how we can head these off. Who knows if we are on the right track.
So, what makes me ungrateful? I'm exhausted. I want a break. Just thinking about a break, makes me feel guilty because what kind of a mother doesn't want to be with her children, especially when it took so bloody long to get them. As we drove, I swallowed the lump in my throat as I rubbed the bump on my head, and continued to wish for some solitude in a coffee shop with a book.
I don't want to be kicked, punched and screamed at. I absolutely have a partner in husband, but the kids are quite convinced that I'm the only person who can solve problems and deserve their rage. My back hurts, my head hurts, my hips hurt.
As I type this, Prima is sitting almost in my lap telling me that I can type this at night after she is asleep. In other words, how dare I take time to myself when she is awake and clearly needs her mother. Yes, how dare I? If I ever disappear off of social media, check the local insane asylum.
Christmas came and was delightful. Prima knew her Santa present and Segunda knew exactly which Santa present was for her. Both played with their Santa presents for a long time before opening their presents. They loved everything and fought over each other's gifts. It really was fun. Then I made the mistake of forcing Prima into a dress for Christmas dinner at her Nana's house. Her Nana insisted that she be dressed up at least for gift opening. I told Prima it was only for an hour and then she could change. You can guess how that went.
The day after Christmas is the day I build my Legos. I had both children hanging off of me all day. Literally. Segunda was on my hip for the bulk of the day. Prima kept insisting that I hurry up so that she could play with it.
Segunda has not been sleeping well and shrieks and screams throughout the night. This is very different from when we brought her home. She slept the night through - no fuss no muss. Now, good grief, I'm exhausted. We have both children in our bed and they both sleep smack on top of me and fight over me. It's very restful. Not! When Prima is not kicking me in the head or otherwise head butting me, Segunda is punching me in the face with her casts all night.
Today Segunda had a rage-athon when we were in a bookstore downtown. We left the bookstore in haste and put her in the car. She raged and kicked and punched and screamed and screamed and screamed. Husband drove and drove and drove. The kids napped. And we discussed triggers for the girls and how we can head these off. Who knows if we are on the right track.
So, what makes me ungrateful? I'm exhausted. I want a break. Just thinking about a break, makes me feel guilty because what kind of a mother doesn't want to be with her children, especially when it took so bloody long to get them. As we drove, I swallowed the lump in my throat as I rubbed the bump on my head, and continued to wish for some solitude in a coffee shop with a book.
I don't want to be kicked, punched and screamed at. I absolutely have a partner in husband, but the kids are quite convinced that I'm the only person who can solve problems and deserve their rage. My back hurts, my head hurts, my hips hurt.
As I type this, Prima is sitting almost in my lap telling me that I can type this at night after she is asleep. In other words, how dare I take time to myself when she is awake and clearly needs her mother. Yes, how dare I? If I ever disappear off of social media, check the local insane asylum.
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