Friday, July 19, 2013

7 Quick Takes: The Frazzled Parent Edition



This week is finally, finally over. 
As much as I try to focus on practicing gratitude in the present, I have been living for this weekend all week long. Now that it's here, I am definitely grateful.  I have not been a calm, composed parent this week, and it's been all I can manage to keep from coming completely unraveled multiple times every day. A fellow twin mom who is a bit further down the path than I am assures me that things will improve after the girls turn two (adjusted for their gestational age, which should be sometime in early October). I guess that's something to look forward to.


One: the number of Mennonite doughnuts it took for me to feel better yesterday afternoon. My best running friend (and companion in eating run-sabotaging sweets) brought me the most wonderful doughnut from Harrisonburg yesterday. I meant after the first heavenly bite to save half of it for George. Then I was going to save a third of it...but I ate it all. I didn't think of photographing it until it was already inside my tummy. I'm not even sure where she got it, but that might be a good thing.

Two: the number of amazingly helpful blog posts from talented writers who reminded me that I'm not alone in my struggle. Rabia invented the Frazzled Parent Solidarity Signal (brilliant, although she's still working out the specifics), and Haley wrote about how this crazy barely-keeping-my-head-above-water busy season of parenting tiny people can still be prayer. I'm grateful to both of them (and to all the other people who reassured me this week).

Also...the number of handpainted baptismal crosses that have been ripped from walls above beds by bouncing toddler sisters getting air from jumping on their mattresses after bedtime and grabbing at things hanging above their heads.

Three: the number of times my keys have been put in the trash can this week. (And once in the toilet.)

Four: the number of loads of unfolded laundry that are sitting in baskets in my closet right now. Notice that I'm not folding it...I'm busy writing this post. Also note that I only have two laundry baskets, so they are doubled up in there (and are sure to be wrinkled nicely when I do get around to folding them!).


Nora, measuring laundry piles.


Five: the number of times yesterday that Lucy found my deodorant (carefully relocated and hidden each time), retrieved it, and ate some of it. She even managed to open a "childproof" latch and pull open one of my dresser drawers (which then fell out of the dresser) right in front of me. I'm not sure what to do with her. Should I call poison control or the police?

Narwhal.
Six: the number of times SuperSam has come out of his room (so far) tonight since being tucked into bed twenty minutes ago. His reasons for emerging (in order of appearance):
  • Dinosaurs inside his brain are threatening to eat him. He knows they are extinct on our planet, but since they are inside his head, he's afraid they might find a way to get out and get him.
  • His leg hurts and needs ice on it.
  • He thinks he is dehydrated because his pee before dinner was "kind of yellow." He thinks he needs more water. He has water by his bed, but he's afraid he might run out in the middle of the night.
  • He is afraid that he might hear thunder at some point during the night and it might disturb his sleep.
  • He can't find his narwhal. (It is under his pillow.) Then he is inconsolably sad because he is worried that he will get too many stuffed special friends in his bed and not have any room to sleep, and he can't sleep with The Sisters or with us because we already each have two people in our rooms (which is enough, he says), and the living room is too scary at night because you can see the streetlight and it makes shadows on the wall that look like dinosaurs that want to eat him, so he can't sleep in there, either, and the bathroom is just not really a good place to sleep.
  • He wants to remind us to be sure to put two dinosaur gummies (his bribe for staying in bed after he is tucked in) on the kitchen table for him. 

Seven: the number of days before we'll be headed out of town again for a weekend with family and friends. Let's call it the little vacation to recover from our vacation. One week before we leave should be just enough time to give everyone a chance to settle back into our normal routine and get comfortable going to bed on time again before we mess it all up by taking them to a hotel where we all sleep in the same room. Yay, family togetherness!


For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!