Today I Was Over It

Today I was over it.

My toddler woke up in a mood. While I was pumping she waddled over to my six-month-old in her Rocker and pretended to hit her on the head smiling her mischievous Dennis the Menace smile.

“No, I won’t let you hit the baby.” I said trying to remain calm like Janet Lansbury advises, but getting ready to unhook my polka-dot-Minnie-mouse inspired pumping bra and take action knowing my toddler all too well. She smiled at me again, and hit the baby’s head harder–the baby’s face starting to scrunch up to cry. Okay, Janet, this is where I couldn’t give no reaction anymore.

“That’s it!” I took off the bra, liquid gold spilling everywhere, and swooped her up placing her in her purgatory— time out.

Today I was over it.

I was over the fight to put her diaper on after her bath. Her little kicks into my stomach every time I got close to her and her screams because diaper changes are the worst thing you can do to someone, don’t you know?

 Today I was over it.

When we switched rooms, my toddler ran down the hall instead of to the playroom where we usually convene. Her little body moving from side to side– while I ran after her, baby cuddled into my chest. I caught up to her by the stairs and grabbed her little hand as she tried to pull it away because once you turn two you are totally independent. Turning to bolt again, I forced her up—the toddler in one arm, the baby in the other. We walked down the hall like this.

Today I was over it.

The outfit changes. The baby had a poop explosion while I was feeding her this morning. Mustardy poop covered my shirt and the baby’s clothes. Then I went to art class with my toddler, blue paint covering outfit number two by the time she was midway through finger painting.

Today I was over it.

Always having to have my shit together. Getting the bottles prepped, everyone changed, bathed, cleaned—out the door on time. Not having any time for myself.

Today I was over it.

When bedtime approached I was so relieved. After putting them both down I got into bed myself to unwind when five minutes later I heard through the monitor a cry from the toddler’s room. I ran down the hall, feet pounding like a dinosaur.

“What baby?” I asked as I entered the room.

She gave me a soft hug saying “tissue tissue” as salty snot dripped from her button nose. I wiped. “Book, book. Please.” Please! Just like I had been teaching her…

“Okay just one.” I grabbed the one on top of the pile.

I read her The Very Hungry Caterpillar as she turned the pages.

“Thank you mommy,” she said in her sweet husky voice.

“Your welcome baby.” I kissed her forehead, placing the blanket over her lower half, the shushers’ soothing sound playing in the background. I closed the door.

I heard soft cries come in echoes “neh, neh” from the baby’s room across the hall. NOOOOO. I ran back down the hall, as I tried to decipher the meaning behind the cry—maybe she lost her pacifier? Then I saw her scrunched up face. All she needed was to see me, her mommy, and her frown turned into a magnetic smile as I couldn’t help but smile back at her sweet little face. As I stroked her little head, she leaned to the side, falling right back to sleep.

That’s when I knew

Today I was over it but I am never over both of you.

You are my heart.

This Is Two Kids Under Two

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“Mommy peas upy” says my twenty-month-old, Vivienne, stretching what is left of her Michelin-arms up high–she has four rolls remaining which for her age is quite impressive (thank goodness! I pray for those rolls each night like Judy Blume character, Magaret Simon, prays to increase her bust size!). The problem: my two-month-old is peacefully sleeping on my chest, fastened tightly into her Bjorn. I try to avoid picking Vivienne up, taking her hand and walking with her, but she quickly retorts. “Peas! Upy upy” and I find myself lifting her up–both girls on me-sweat dripping from my forehead.

I check to make sure the littlest of my brood is okay. Little limber hand of infant, I feel for it. Not squished. Phew. Little sweet legs of infant, not squished either. I am good.

I know one day I will be destined to be a hunchback. Quasimodo you will meet your match—but hell it will be worth it. I hope. I have found myself in this situation more than not since my littlest was born.

If this is you, welcome to the club. And here are five ways you know you have two babies under two:

1). A Carrier is a must:

My girls are eighteen months apart and yes I actually am one of those masochists that tried for the second one. In fact, it took me six months to get pregnant—meaning I got the baby bug even earlier. Crazy? Perhaps. But I love babies and missed the sweet infant smell, skin-to-skin, need I go on…

My twenty-month-old is in a lot of classes and in order for us to resume our schedule and not throw her off even more I bring my littlest to her classes attached to my chest. This would be a no no for baby number one especially without proper vaccinations. Now, this is what I call survival.

I have been in the Bjorn chasing my now twenty-month-old through jungle gyms. I am following her up to the top and watching every maneuver to make sure the baby on my chest is okay. I slither through, slowly down slides shoes bracing my landing, and crawl through tunnels. I have actually become a ninja master of this craft. Call it insanity. Hell I do too.

If this is you, this is a common skill for having two kids under two.

2). Your older child has mastered the death stare:

Jealousy doesn’t look good on anyone, even an adorable eighteen-month-old. I find that my daughter, who is so sweet natured and loves sharing with other kids, has not been as welcoming to her baby sister as I’d expect. She gives the baby death stares that I wish I could plagiarize and use on my worst enemies.

Every time I change the baby, feed the baby, burp the baby, (see a trend…) she wants to be picked up too. Now, if I were an octopus this could work. Sadly, I am not.

On days where the baby is up more and I have to give her more attention my twenty-month-old wakes up crying in the middle of the night, probably because she had a nightmare that this damn baby keeps following her everywhere. Then she wakes up and– Not. That. Baby. Again. Death stare.

If this is your eldest, this is unfortunately common for two kids under two.

3). Someone is usually up, needs a diaper change or SOMETHING, or is crying:

One wants this, the other needs something else. Both need you. Both can’t be trusted alone. Crying. Chaos. Ah.

That about sums it up for two kids under two.

4). You have totally let yourself go, because gosh who has time to care:

Gosh not me. I have managed the eyebrow wax, but besides that, self-care would be taking a shower and brushing my teeth—the musts! To be honest, I am not one to be bothered with makeup, never was, but finding “me time” is hard, especially because I am working from home too—which eats up any spare moment. Who has time for naps these days? Not I. I am rocking the permanent puffiness under the eye look. This is actually the first article I have written and it’s an ode to having no time at this juncture for anything or anyone but my kids.

If this is you, this is unfortunately common for two kids under two.

5). So much love, laughter and cuteness. Double the babies, double the love.

I still love it. I love motherhood. My girls are hands down the best things that ever happened to me. Whether it is my infant making t-rex noises or my eldest running in circles screaming “circle, circle, circle,” I really enjoy these little people I get to help mold. When my eldest gives me a kiss or my littlest lays peacefully on my chest making me feel their love, it just makes all in the world seem right. I am where I want to be: motherhood.

If this is you, this is why two kids under two is completely worth it.

So give me spit up, poop blowouts, heavy lifting, and no me time—twice the baby love makes two kids under two a pretty special club to be apart of.