It wasn’t in a mirror or a reflection. It wasn’t in an image or an old photo album. It was in another mother who had brought her 27 month old and her 3 month old to the park to play before it got too hot. To be honest, I didn’t even know she had the baby there until we started talking. I helped her turn the on spray ground for her toddler and we chit chatted for a minute and then both had to run after our kids. A few minutes later we crossed paths again and she asked, “How is it with two?”
I hesitated for a minute and replied, “When it’s good, it’s REALLy good. When it’s hard, it’s REALLY hard.”
“Yeah,” she said. ”I’m still getting used to it.”
“Oh!” I said. ”Do you have two?” She motioned to the stroller.
“How old?”
“27 months and 3 months.”
And then it all came back to me. 27 and 3 months. Just like Lucy and Luke. I looked again and I saw it in her eyes. I saw what was in my eyes when Luke was just 3 months old – the fog, the frustration, the wondering what in the world my life had turned into. The wondering if I knew that this is what life would have been like if I would have signed up for it. I saw how hard she was trying to hold it altogether because she loved those little ones so much. I saw it and I felt it. I felt it the way you feel a baseball slide perfectly into your glove and sting your hands for just a minute because the force was so hard. It was like looking at me 2 years ago. Was Lucy really that small? She was just a baby herself!
“I remember.” I said. ”It’s really hard. It’s been really hard for me for 2 years. It’s really hard because you aren’t getting any sleep and you are all alone. I remember.”
“We came to the park because everyone was screaming and I thought if I didn’t get out of the house, I was going to die.”
I smiled because I didn’t want to cry. I can’t tell you how many days I did the same thing.
I told her, ”I remember getting everyone in the car and driving and not even knowing where I was going – all I knew was that I had to get out and away. I remember taking Lucy to Ross to play with the toys because I couldn’t stay in the house one more second and it was raining outside. I remember driving to Costco for a hot dog – but not really intending to go there, just arriving there somehow. I remember being half way to my mom’s house before I even called and asked if we could come. I remember. I’ve been there. The house was such a depressing place for me. I just had to get out.”
“I’m letting her run in the spray ground because I can’t figure out how to give her a bath, get them both fed, and them to bed all by myself. My husband is working late tonight. He doesn’t get how hard the nights are for me and how I am ALL ALONE all day long with these kids.”
“I know. It’s a two person job you are doing all by yourself. It gets better. Some people say it takes 12 months, others 18. It took me 2 years, but it gets better.”
And then Lucy had to go potty. So our conversation ended. Abruptly.
But do you know what I didn’t tell her – I didn’t tell her that these are the best years of her life. Because they aren’t. I didn’t tell her that someday she was going to miss all this, because she isn’t. It get’s better. and better. and harder. but better. I know, because things are better for me. I’m starting to think that I like this gig and these kids. And I’m finally enjoying being at home with them. Finally. I like getting up in the morning (on most days…)
Today, when I saw her, I wanted to cry. Because I’ve been there. Right there – where she is – living in that space of feeling so out of control and frustrated. And alone. And tired. And overwhelmed. But I’m not anymore. On Wednesday we are leaving for Disneyland – and I’m excited! I’m happy! I want to go! I have 4 loads of laundry to fold, 4 more to do, a house to vacuums and dust, food and 2 toddlers to pack, business stuff to tie up and I’m not in a panic. I can actually imagine finishing a little dress for Lucy before we leave. And it sounds like fun. Things are better. And I am so grateful for that. So incredibly grateful that Lucy and Luke are who they are, that I am their mommy, and that they are both 2 years older.
I think blog posts require a picture…so here’s one that is evidence of things getting better. The kids are older and bigger. They can both talk and, for the most part, sleep through the night. (sometimes.) That they can get in their car seats by themselves and sit at the table to eat. Oh yeah, and we have grass. Never underestimate the power of grass. And colorful walls. But that’s another post.
Sara
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