girlfiend

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La la Loush left a comment on my housewife’s lament post that pretty much summed everything up.  You can read the whole comment in its entirety here, but the part that got me was this: People, mostly men will try to find solutions for you because that’s what they think you want. You know there isn’t much of a solution, but I sympathise and know what you are going through.

After reading my post Boyfiend was pretty upset. Despite the fact that I tried to make it clear in the post that Boyfiend was not to blame for how disconnected I felt, he took the post personally and offered solutions. There are no solutions. I have been breastfeeding and/or pregnant for four years and mothering full time. My interactions with the adult world are pretty limited. It is what it is. He can help with the kids and give me time to myself (which he’s done quite generously this past week) but it still doesn’t make the situation different.

This weekend we went to my mom’s house at the beach. It is never restful or relaxing for me to be at her house, but Boyfiend has a great time there,  the Fiendling loves it, and I always enjoy the time spent on the beach. My mother wants to be helpful, but she always fall short. She wants to give me a break but she doesn’t know how and usually ends up creating more work for me. And the insults, my god, the barrage of insults. They never end.

The first evening wasn’t too bad. But sometime in the middle of the night the baby woke up coughing. And it wasn’t just a normal baby cough it was the bark of a seal. Each cough made him cry and the more he cried the louder the coughs became. He was wheezing and crying and barking and clutching his throat and shoving his fingers in his mouth and distressed and it was awful. I suspected he had Croup and went down to use my mother’s computer to comfirm.

She was passed out on the couch with her bitey little dog with the TV on volume 7000. It was deafening, but I was afraid to turn it down for fear she’d wake up and I’d have to involve her. Google told me I was right and I went back upstairs prepared to spend the rest of the night in a steamy shower. But B had T asleep on his chest when I returned and the rest of the night was bad, but not as bad as I was expecting. T woke coughing and crying regularly throughout the night, but each time he was easily settled.

The next morning my mother watched the kids so B and I could sleep in a little. I came down around 9 and immediately called our pediatrician’s office. I left a message with the on-call operator. In the interim T was ready for a nap and F was ready for the beach so I prepared both of the kids and got our stuff ready our walk to the beach. A trip across the street to my mom’s neighbor’s house to use a pump for the stroller tires was necessary and through a series of events that Mix jokes sounded like a drug deal, later that afternoon we ended up getting the baby a prescription for steroids from my mom’s neighbor’s girlfriend’s cousin’s husband rather than taking him to the city to our pediatrician or to the emergency room. The neighbor’s girlfriend’s cousin’s husband is an ER doctor with three kids of his own. He told us that the steroids should help the cough but that it might get worse before it gets better and that we should expect a high fever.

After helping us with our sick baby the neighbor and his girlfriend  invited us over for dinner that night. After the kids were in bed we went across the street to join them and their other guests. It was nice to be in adult company enjoying adult beverages without small children running or crawling about, but I wasn’t completely there. I knew that across the street my baby was sleeping, but he probably wouldn’t be sleeping for long. I knew that I would have another night of interrupted sleep and that it might be worse than the night before.

The reason for the story is that it’s yet another example of me not getting a break. Even though in theory I had a break while my mom was at the house with two sleeping children so B and I could have drinks with friends, I couldn’t fully engage. I was on edge, waiting for the phone call that the baby was awake. I was on edge, anticipating the restless night ahead. My time, even when I have it, isn’t really my own.

It is what it is and I don’t expect or want anything different. I am completely wrapped up in my children and right now that’s the way it has to be. They are little. They need me. They need us.  I don’t want a different life than the one I have. I don’t need solutions. There are no solutions. I’m sad right now, overwhelmed by motherhood and the weight of staying home with two small children. I love my children and I enjoy my children.  But  children get sick and need attention. They pull and tug at me and cry for things they want. They need to be occupied and active and sometimes need my undivided attention. They don’t always listen and they don’t always sleep. When it was a two year old and a baby it was easier. But my baby isn’t  a baby anymore. He’s become a tiny little person with wants and needs and preferences. Newborns are easy. One year olds are work. This stage is more difficult than the last and it can be suffocating sometimes.