Everyday is a rollercoaster ride over here- emotionally and energy-wise that is. Things go from clean + happy + entergetic to chaos with a side of an emotion breakdown/ exhaustion in one hot spiraling second. At least, that’s how fast it feels. This rise and fall happens a few times a day, coincides with nap time, and is likely to occur with greater intensity if I: a) have some sort of thing I must accomplish in a timely manner -or- b) am playing catch-up on the mess from the day before. (MOM!! how do you do it?!?)
This age is amazing. At 15-months is so curious, sweet, hilarious, interactive, and engaging. It’s also a struggle to adjust as a first-time mom. Life will never be as easy as those first days. I wrote this post a couple weeks ago, but think it illustrates how crazy things are feeling right now…
For the most part, Eve is a laid-back, joyful little girl. She laughs easy, and loves to cuddle. While I’m skeptical of judging a child’s temperament too soon, I’m hypothesizing that Evey takes after her dad in some of his best ways. On this occasion- however- she was acting more like her mother.
We were standing in the airport, waiting in line for Chipotle. She was screaming- the loudest I’ve ever heard her- without, what it seemed liked, breathing. She roared one cry after the other. Again. And again. Other customers were having trouble ordering- all anyone could hear were my firecracker’s cries.
She was relentless.
If anyone was staring, I didn’t notice. I dodged all eye contact, remained steadfast in my “baby bumping,” continued to reassure her it was alright, and kept what I thought was a peaceful/happy face (that I’m sure was actually a overwhelmed-pathetic one).
Then, as loud as can be, and in a playful demeanor, Chipotle Man cried out, “HEY! What’s wrong whichu bebe?!” Anyone who wasn’t watching our scene before was definitely all eyes and ears now. Evey was totally silenced and captivated by Chipotle Man. “HEY!” He went on, “You like milk, bebe?” …goes to grab chocolate milk, removes straw, hands it to Evey. She’s silent, intrigued. I’m laughing. He’s still yelling, “Your feet haven’t touched the ground since you left the womb! So, what you crying about?! That’s right! That’s right! Get this girl some milk, that’s what I’m talkin bout!” (..And then three more minutes of silly yelling as we check out.)
I asked Chipotle Man if he babysits. Although the wiser move would’ve been to propose a free flight to Chicago, if he’d just come along and keep happy my molar-teething toddler.
We didn’t even make it the 50-ft to our gate before Evey was wailing again. So, I had Evey panicking on my hip, I’m dragging a stroller, pillow, and bag, and adding to the stress she squeezes the chocolate milk all over, so now that is dripping down my shirt and skirt. Sweet. -_- At the gate, I tried to give Evey Tylenol. Add Tylenol to the list of sticky junk that’s all over my body.
“Bebe”: 3 Mom: 0
Somehow, I felt serenity for the very first time admist this stressful mama moment. I’m not at all patient, and I’m thinking it came from day two of my Marian consecration. Totus Tuus. My threshold is rising.
So, finally, somehow, we made it to our seat. For whatever reason, no one wanted to sit next to us. Weird. And about five minutes after take-off, Evey was fast asleep on my lap, and I’m looking out, across the wing, to a stunning fluffy, cumulus cloudy sky.
Hallelujah. Mom: 3000
(Sweet + entertaining sleep position on the plane. She didn’t even stir during landing!)
I’ve struggled with adjusting to life as a toddler mom. The hardest thing is attempting to accomplish something so very small and I’m unable to do so without my daughter tugging at my dress while she screams. I’m almost constantly calling my mom for reassurance. Luckily, she still picks up. She said it gets easier, and for the first time ever I sorta felt that.. I could do this. And not just do it, but do it with joy (the ultimate goal), lower standards, and less of a RBF.
That’s all, for now.