Mommyfessions Part II: The Good, The Bad, The Ugly and The Taboo

So, my mother and I were having a conversation the other day. She said to me, "Oh Good - you get to stay home today because of the snow cancellation! That's nice!" Feeling authentic, I said, "No it's not! It's not nice!!" After having the flu (103 fever for 2 days), sharing tasks with my very sick husband, taking care of a sick 2 year old and a sick 7 month old, all the while working and pumping through it, we got our childcare provider sick AND we were snowed in. I never wanted to go to work so badly in my life. It made me think about what mothers REALLY think and how they really feel. I'm about to keep it 100 here, so be forewarned. These are some of my most taboo mommyfessions.

I would rather sleep than anything else in this world. Seriously. Chocolate, sex, winning the lottery, getting an award. Meeting a hero. Nothing appeals me to but sleep. I made the awesome decision to get pregnant when Wilson had just turned a year old, so if you calculate the last few months of pregnancy with Wilson where I wasn't sleeping well, it's been about 2 years and 8 months since I had a good night's sleep. It's been over 8 months since I slept more than 4 hours of sleep at a time. I pay childcare providers so that I can sleep. On the VERY rare day that Waylon does sleep for more than 4 hours and even when I could get sleep, I either here phantom crying or my overproduction of breastmilk wakes me up so that I go pump.  Sometimes, I daydream about going to bed and just sleeping for a year. THAT is my dirtiest fantasy now: sleeping alone.

My favorite activity is going to a restaurant to work. By Myself. Over sabbatical, I started doing this and found that it was so amazing. In my twenties, I would have hated going out to eat by myself. Now, it's beautiful. Like an amazing overseas vacation. No one talks to me or asks me for anything. I get waited on. I can go to the bathroom whenever I would like. I can work or check my email without a child lunging for my computer and sending an email that says, "Hi! Just chekcingowhgoiawehgoaehroihrgnhorhgoeiahgoihx98f." It's happened. 

Pumping breastmilk has become my "me time". That's so sad, but true. I exclusively pump and provide milk for both my 2 year old and my 8 month old. It's free, super healthy and very luckily, plentiful. But it's work. So when I pump, I watch Netflix, check Facebook, try to half sleep, read, do something for myself while the little whirring motor rhythmically sucks out my energy. I feel that's fair. If the kids are with me while I pump, they can quietly sit by me, but the minute they start crawling on me or pulling at the tubes (a favorite of Waylon's), I'm screaming for Mike to come get them. Because if I'm going to feed the family, I should get 20 minutes to sort of relax. I pump so much that since Waylon has been born, I have watched all of the seasons of Sons of Anarchy, Medium, Roswell, Crossing Jordan, Law & Order SVU, The Glades, The United States of Tara, Orange is the New Black, Girls, Fringe, The L Word, and am currently finishing Criminal Minds. Thinking of going for Breaking Bad next. That's just so sad.

My Faculty Picture
Note the happiness.

I LOVE going to work. Like love it. I can go to the bathroom when I like, am not screamed at, get to feel productive, eat when I would like, sit at my desk being cerebral, write thoughtful and intelligent work and feel successful. I'm home with the kids for most of the week. Let's recap last Tuesday with the boys for an example. I wake up, pump, put bottles away, get breakfast for Wilson (as he screams CEREAL, CEREAL!!! at me), while simultaneously ensuring Waylon isn't falling down the heating register (one of his new pastimes) or trying to hold Waylon at the same time (because once he gets tired, he follows me around pulling on my pant leg and loudly communicating his annoyance for not picking him up). Then I try to get Wilson to play with something quietly while I put Waylon down for his morning nap. He has a great paint with water activity, but if I leave the table, he pours food in the paint water. If I sit at the table, Waylon won't sleep, but will grab at the paint bowl to try to eat it. To which Wilson will either yell "NO WAYLIE!!" or try to slap at him, while I'm wrestling the baby away from the table. So I give him his alphabet apps on his iPhone. He plays those, but it has to be at the highest volume, so Waylon can't sleep then either. I try to get him playing with his trucks, but then Wilson crashes them against walls, together, my foot. Then he runs around manically with his shopping cart, screeching at the top of his voice, falling over, running into cupboards and giggling loudly. Waylon is exhausted, but won't go to sleep, so I am rocking him and he's drinking his bottle while pulling my hair, grasping at my lips or trying to pinch my nose. Sometimes Wilson wants me to hold him WHILE I'm trying to get Waylon to sleep, so I get to try to hold two boys on my lap, while trying to strategically keep them from striking distance from each other. And by the way, it's only 8 a.m. 

Mike babywearing Waylon
while carrying Wilson on
his shoulders while letting
me get some sleep.
Seriously, a superhero.

I am a neglectful wife. My husband is super man. He goes to work, takes care of bills, is a true co-parent and helps out with the kids whenever needed, gets up early if I need a break from overnight baby duty, is loving and helps out around the house continually. But between pumping over 60 ounces of milk a day, working 3 jobs, corralling a 2 year old, caring for an 8 month old, cosleeping for 8 months with a baby, getting minimal sleep for 2+ years, working hard with consistent intervention strategies to make Wilson an empathic, happy and self-regulated boy, cleaning up after the Wilwind and his tendency to tear his play room apart, taking care of dogs, tending to students' needs, preparing for presentations, writing my book and other publications, checking email, preparing for committees, along with the other 200 things that I am responsible for, I have NOTHING left. I have got an exhausted hug, a kiss and a "how was your day?" while I peer out from the luggage under my eyes and try to stay focused for the answer. I've started getting weekly childcare for my husband and I to have dates or time together because I know that it takes more than a passing hug to keep a marriage whole. And I love him very much. And he can never leave because I would die as a single mother. 

My hero is my childcare provider. Seriously, when she comes in three days a week, I breathe a huge sigh of relief. I can either get sleep, go to work or you know, pee or get a glass of water for myself. Taking care of two active boys is intense and I thank the universe (and her) everyday that I have someone to watch the kids. She loves the kids, they love her, she keeps them busy and SOMEHOW always finds time to do my dishes. Screw Batman. This woman is seriously amazing.

 
The little moments with the kids make it almost worth it. The little smiles, hugs, watching them do something amazing, hearing Wilson say something sweet, putting puzzles together, watching them grow, getting a sweet kiss, seeing that you are their world makes you momentarily feel great about being a parent. Then they smack you in the face and the moment is over. 

I wouldn't have it any other way. Here's the absolute crazy thing. I wouldn't. I love parenting a highly sensitive, high maintenance and demanding Wilson. He teaches me everyday something new and has made me a better counselor/psychologist educator and counselor myself. I understand him and his father in a way that I didn't anticipate after learning about his temperament and his sensitivity to incoming data/information. I love having a baby and seeing how much Waylon is like me. I love sleeping with him at night and the little cuddles he gives me while softly touching my face. I love when Wilson does something sweet like brush my hair or kiss Waylie on the head. I love my teaching, my students, my research, my work at Yale, my committee work, my writing, my publications and presentations, and my counseling work. I miss the kids when I am not with them, but feel so good that I am contributing to my students' lives and all the lives of their clients. I love my husband more and more each day -- and am thankful that he is just as tired as I am, so he doesn't blame me for not putting enough effort into our marriage. He sees my gratitude for him, my giving him self-care time, my love -- and for now, that is enough. I would like more sleep, but I wouldn't want anyone else getting up to comfort my infant sons during the night. Those memories of cuddles, of soft kisses, of cosleeping while holding onto one another will stay with me forever. The boys have made me a better, more thoughtful and mature person in ways I didn't even know could exist. I may be completely and utterly exhausted, but I am a whole person: a mother, a teacher, a researcher, a counselor, spiritual, complete and fulfilled. And I'm betting grown children and retirement will also be pretty fulfilling... at least I'll get more sleep.