A few weeks ago, I began feeling like I really had this two kid thing down. Routines were going nicely, Ladybug was being extremely well-behaved, StrawBee was sleeping longer, and Dear Boy and I had more time for each other than we had had in a while. I began thinking, "Man, this isn't nearly as hard as I would've thought." I'd also been reading MckMama's blog and telling myself, "Hey, maybe I could do that. Many small children all in a row would be fun!" I was surprised and impressed with my ability to handle my small brood, and just generally cheerfully pleased with my life.
Parenthood, however, is a punk.
Within a few days, all of my smug self-satisfaction lay in pieces around my feet. Ladybug had shown a sudden penchant for picking on her sister and pitching screaming fits 10 times a day. StrawBee caught a nasty cold and wasn't (still isn't) sleeping at night. Dear Boy tried to help me with the suddenly out-of-control kiddies and fell behind at school, forcing him to turn all of our "us" time into "DB and studying" time.
I exerienced a 180 in my attitude towards my children and the possibility of more. (More?! Are you kidding?! I'm ready to sell these ones to the highest bidder!) I looked in the mirror and realized that for the first time since LadyBug had been born, I was happy with my non-pregnant body (I always love my pregnant body--post-partum not so much; an attitude I'm working on) and thinking maybe I don't really want to stretch it out again.
Fascinating, isn't it, how just a few days can completely change one's outlook? Fortunately I've learned not to take any outlook changes that occur on less than 4 hours of sleep seriously. While frustrated, out-of-sorts, and exhausted, I keep telling myself that just as the calm couldn't last forever, neither can the craziness.
Right?
