I’m Beautiful Like Me.

Joy arrived home on Monday. It’s really nice to have her home, but the child is such a slob! No sooner than she dragged her suitcase into her room, it was a disaster area. She’s like a hurricane. Hurricane Joy.

Last night, P took both of the girls for the night. Husband and I hit the grocery store and came home for a quiet dinner. He entertained the boy for a bit and I nursed him to sleep. We enjoyed the quiet of the evening. It’s been rare this summer!

Some time in the past few days, Buddha has become a complete nightmare. He started squealing this high-pitched squawk that hits that nerve. He is into everything. I cannot leave the room to pee without him sneaking ink pens out of the desk drawer or trying to unplug the outlet covers. He climbs the furniture, knocks down the lamp, and whines incessantly all.day.long. Yesterday was awful. He fought nap time vehemently, nursing one moment and squirming off the bed the next. And our bedroom is so not child-proofed. There is the stereo (buttons for him to push which could deafen the neighbors), Husband’s guitar (which he likes to strike with whatever heavy object might be lying around), the box fans to help circulate the air (missing fingers, anyone?) not to mention the girls are terrible about keeping the bathroom door closed (let’s not even humor those thoughts). He’s crafty: he has managed to pass most barriers we’ve erected to keep him in or out. He’s fast, too. My sweet boy has become possessed by demons, I think.

T’s report of last night’s events at P’s house sounds standard. Joy and her friend, L bickered all night long. Why do these kids beg relentlessly to hang out when all they do is fight?!! I’m considering sending P flowers and a well-crafted letter of apology and thanks for tolerating that non-sense. The girls forgot to turn everything off and to feed the cat before they left last night, too. So when they returned home early this afternoon, I put them both to work.

While I scrubbed the bathroom and vacuumed the house, T cleaned the kitchen while Joy cleaned their bedroom. This morning, I cleared off the entire desk and dusted (while fending off the aforementioned persistently curious and grabby toddler). I got rid of Husband’s monster-sized stack of paperwork, which we still need to pore through. I balanced the checkbook, got our prescriptions filled and portioned for the next week, folded 3 loads of laundry and cooked dinner. I feel rather accomplished, thank you very much. But I am also grumpy. I’d rather be playing on Plurk or crocheting or spinning or reading or sleeping. And of course, by tomorrow, all of my work will be undone. I hate housework.

The rest of this week will be busy. On Saturday, I am going to Indianapolis to see Daughtry with Monkeytoes. I’d hoped we could all go, that we’d get an overnight room at a hotel with a pool and Husband could entertain the kids poolside while I attend the show with Monkeytoes. Unfortunately, things aren’t going to turn out that way and I will drive myself up and back home. Sunday, T is flying home around 2pm and afterwards, I am taking Joy to my mom’s for the night. Mom is taking her shopping for school supplies and uniforms (thank God, as we are so farkin’ broke). And school starts back on Tuesday!

I’m the youngest of 3. My brothers are 7 and 6 years older. My daddy was in the army and we moved a lot, never living close to my younger cousins for very long at all. I did not ever like younger children that I can think of - even when I was very young, my friends were always the older kids. And never had much opportunity for seeing anyone grow up until my eldest niece was born when I was 14. At the time, my mom and I lived in Florida and she was born here in Kentucky. She was several months old before I met her. I turned 18 a few years later and missed out on a lot of her younger years because I was busy with my own life.

Neither of my children were planned.

When I became pregnant with Joy, I was pretty scared. I wasn’t nervous about the pregnancy or labor, but the bringing her home and being responsible for her part terrified me. In fact, I had very vivid dreams about having a girl and just what sort of example I intended to set for her as a woman in this time, in this culture. They were not pleasant dreams.

Her first few weeks were the definition of “baby moon.” I loved her instantly and had an intuition about her cries and her needs. I was totally unprepared for how hard it was all to be, though and it wasn’t long before I would be totally consumed with overwhelming feelings of inadequacy, frustration and depression. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing and got very little support from her dad or extended family members. I’m still not entirely sure how I got through the toddler years. I’m sure I could pin a gray hair or two on that kid!

I didn’t want any more children after her. Her dad and I were in agreement of that much. I’ve always had this generally icky feeling about parents (my own included) playing favorites when they have more than one child. I understood that it isn’t necessarily deliberate - after all, humans are dynamic creatures and some people naturally get along better than others. Still, I didn’t want to be that mom. We were careful and I never became pregnant again.

As they often do, things changed. Joy’s dad and I split up. Money became tight for me, so I stopped taking birth control. A few months later, when I first met Husband, I started on a less expensive birth control.

A few months after that, I became pregnant with the boy.

Joy was 7 and half years old. I couldn’t believe that I was going to do all this all over again.

My pregnancy was harder, but not difficult by any means. Labor and delivery was smooth and swift. Again, I loved this new baby instantly and had a lovely baby moon.

When I was 6 weeks postpartum, I had a tubal ligation. No more babies for me, thanks.

Perhaps it is the years, the experience, the fact that I cannot have more children… but this boy has taught me so much. I have been far more patient with him than I ever was with Joy. I am enjoying him more, relaxed about things that caused me undue amounts of stress with the girl (like, say, eating food off the floor), and most importantly, learning to appreciate all the things I’ve taken for granted with the girl (like, say, how wonderfully she has always been with regards to sleep).

I still worry that she will think I favor him because he has required so much of my attention the past 16 months that she otherwise would’ve gotten all to herself, because he’s a baby and babies are more easily forgiven for driving one crazy with their incessant curiosity and getting into things they should not get into when they flash you a smile and produce a giggle, because she and I do have a hard time getting along these (and most) days, because I do love my children the same but perhaps I like him just a hair more… I hope that she understands why it is so when she is old enough and doesn’t hold any resentment toward me for it.

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This post is written after spending close to an hour trying to get the boy to sleep. He’s 16 months old and still sleeps in the bed with Husband and I and will not go to sleep for me unless he is nursing.

Joy has slept through the night since she was about 4 months old. She began sleeping in her crib in my room when she was a month old and in her own room when she was 6 months old.