Making Peace
To this point, the transition to three kids has been our easiest transition so far. Micah has been home, which has been a huge asset. He went back to work at most two days after we had the boys--this extra time to ease into things has been wonderful! Cora has been an easy baby, sleeping longer stretches than the boys did and eating well. Other than a few fussy spells, she's been content to stay wherever we put her and either sleep or gaze around the room. The boys haven't been jealous, overly rowdy, or craving extra attention. The house was clean when we moved back in (thanks to my best friend!) and I'd managed to stay on top of things like laundry and clutter. Even yesterday, my first day flying solo, was surprisingly smooth. And then today happened.
I won't go into the gory details, and they really weren't all that gory anyway. But today I lost my luster as a mom of three. I suddenly realized I'm not super woman and never have been, and my kids have probably known it all along. I tried to stay calm as the boys crashed into each other, snatched toys, and acted out looking for attention. I re-learned how to do everything one-handed as my baby screamed every time I set her down. I tried to overlook the piles of laundry and make peace with the clutter. I got a little bit of lunch, and I think I made it to the bathroom as least once--although I'm sure I wasn't alone. In the midst of all the chaos, I tried hard not to panic and think, "What were we thinking!? Three kids three and under? What is wrong with me? What am I supposed to do now?"
My husband is always the voice of reason. God knew I needed someone calm, steady, rational. Mid-panic attack, he sat me down and reminded me of three things: our daughter is only 13 days old; there were days like this when we only had one child; and being a good mom has nothing to do with how the house looks or, some days, how many times the kids cry.
So I'm taking a deep breath. The honeymoon may be over, but there's still three-kid bliss to be enjoyed. I will make peace with the messes (all of them--*Sigh*), rock my baby girl while she's still small enough to want nothing more, settle disputes and reassure my boys that I see them--each of them. For now my superhero cape looks something like a nursing cover, but I'll wear it proudly (and try not to notice the spit-up that no doubt covers it...).
I won't go into the gory details, and they really weren't all that gory anyway. But today I lost my luster as a mom of three. I suddenly realized I'm not super woman and never have been, and my kids have probably known it all along. I tried to stay calm as the boys crashed into each other, snatched toys, and acted out looking for attention. I re-learned how to do everything one-handed as my baby screamed every time I set her down. I tried to overlook the piles of laundry and make peace with the clutter. I got a little bit of lunch, and I think I made it to the bathroom as least once--although I'm sure I wasn't alone. In the midst of all the chaos, I tried hard not to panic and think, "What were we thinking!? Three kids three and under? What is wrong with me? What am I supposed to do now?"
My husband is always the voice of reason. God knew I needed someone calm, steady, rational. Mid-panic attack, he sat me down and reminded me of three things: our daughter is only 13 days old; there were days like this when we only had one child; and being a good mom has nothing to do with how the house looks or, some days, how many times the kids cry.
So I'm taking a deep breath. The honeymoon may be over, but there's still three-kid bliss to be enjoyed. I will make peace with the messes (all of them--*Sigh*), rock my baby girl while she's still small enough to want nothing more, settle disputes and reassure my boys that I see them--each of them. For now my superhero cape looks something like a nursing cover, but I'll wear it proudly (and try not to notice the spit-up that no doubt covers it...).
