As I spend my days immersed in the trenches of mothering, I remember worrying about how I was going to possibly divide my heart and time among two little persons. I worried that motherhood might not suit me after all, that maybe these last two years were just a fluke. And then, we had yesterday. Yesterday was one of those days. You know, the days at which you feel powerless to stop. A day you wished you could just crawl into bed and pretend it never happened.
A day full of tantrums, complete with tears, kicking and screaming. A day where I slapped the dog out of anger at her incessant barking. A day of non-stop nursing, every 60-90 minutes around the clock. A day of missed naptimes. A day of newborn crying, even though she was clean, dry and fed. A day in which a toddler intentionally dumped out her smoothie.
In the late afternoon, I set everyone in their respective cribs. Under the mobile for Lily, a few books for Daisy, and told them both I needed a time-out. A few minutes of silence, some quiet. I went into the backyard and cried. I was exhausted. I was overwhelmed. I felt like an awful parent, and wondered what I was doing wrong and how I could fix it. I thought, maybe I wasn’t cut out for this.
In theory, I know that every parent has those days. I know this, children have bad days, and parents have moments in which they look at their kids and think “you’re driving me crazy",” but somehow, with my two girls, it just doesn’t feel okay. In the end, I called J and we met at Target, mainly so I could buy a broom and some chocolate. (I thought a change of scenery would help, it didn’t, Lily still screamed).
All night, I thought about today. How today would be a new day. We can start completely over, like yesterday was only a bad dream. I will never know how I could have fixed yesterday, or what the right solution was, but at least I now have chocolate.