Let me start with the promised recap of our first playdate at the W's. Unfortunately, the boys were complete and total crankypants, and didn't want to let us eat in peace like they did on Easter. It was, however, really nice to see some old friends. I hadn't gotten together with both W's since... gosh, before they were married! And their sweet little babe is over 7 months now! So, yeah, it had been a while. It was Ben's first time hanging out with them, and I would love it if they became a good couples/parents friends of ours. Dinner was wonderful, and the conversation was really natural. Their baby was mildly interested in the boys, as long as Mommy wasn't holding one! And since they only have the one, Mrs. W had a hard time with the whole "brothers" thing. She'll get it when they have another. :) It was a great time, and I hope to get together again some time relatively soon. We've already been invited for a game night at some point. (The only reason I'm not using names is because it could cause some issues for them. Someone we both know has a problem with me, and I'd rather not cause drama for them. I'd like to say they're the only ones who know someone who has issues with me personally. That's not the case. But I'm glad it doesn't stop people from being friends with me.)
I suppose it's time to move on to my main point for this blog. Admittedly, I am a paranoid glass-is-half-empty type. How I wish that were different! I don't like the pessimistic way I view the world, the way my fears worm themselves into my brain and dig their claws in so that there is no way to remove them. Sometimes airing out my thoughts helps to eradicate them (as was the case with my previous blog where I raked myself over the coals. Within 10 minutes of writing, I felt infinitely better), though sometimes rehashing my thoughts only suffices in solidifying them. I never know which way it will turn out, so don't be surprised if you often read some brutally honest things. My blog is not a place to hide things - I'd rather own up to what I think. Even if it means that some people will think less of me.
Lately the thought I've been having is the endless wonder of whether or not I am properly bonding with the boys. I mentioned it to Ben, and his response was incredulousness - that they LOVE me. Yes, they watch my every move, often ignoring Daddy when he holds them to instead look my way. I can get them to smile in ways that no one else can. But my thoughts are not of them bonding to me, but of me bonding to them. It pains me to say this, but sometimes I just don't want them to be so in need of me. (And they're not even at the point where they can follow and hang on me yet!) I find myself getting irritated when they begin crying for my attentions. Mikey especially will cry until I look at him and say something. Then he just starts smiling and laughing. Instead of enjoying that I can make my son stop crying with just a look, I'm so annoyed that he's crying just for attention. I don't have the time to interact as much as he wants, because he's not my only baby. I'm tired of washing bottles and feedings and diaper changings every few hours. Sometimes I just need to step out of the room, and they begin to cry because they are alone. I don't like that they want me around so much. I know it's not separation anxiety yet, but just the fact that they need someone in the room with them all the time (and I'm the only one here most of the time) weighs on me heavily. If I need to take a shower, I pretty much have to wait til they're asleep, wait til Ben gets home, or know that they will be screaming by the time I'm done. I'm sure that part of my irritations and lack of patience has to do with the fact that I am majorly PMS-ing right now. (I've also got a cold) But this isn't something that has started within the last week. I've felt this way for a while.
Don't get me wrong, I love my kids. I would never wish to not have them. But sometimes I miss the freedom of not being a Mommy. I had so much more time to myself even when I was just pregnant. I know babies are needy, but having two little demanders is so tough. I also think that maybe I wouldn't worry about my bonding with them if I had never worked in daycares. I so loved the munchkins I took care of. And right now, I don't see a whole lot of difference in the way I love my own. If I had one, maybe the devotion I could give one-on-one would clearly show the difference. I could never choose just one baby (as in - say I wish we'd just had Monkey, or I wish we'd just had Darry), but having the two of them so reminds me of my days in the infant rooms of the daycares I worked in. Two-on-one does not make for easy days. I know that just one is hard, and so many women have a lot of trouble handling it. But there is a part of me that just does not understand how one baby can be that hard. There are times when I can't help but think how much easier it would be with just one baby. Again, I could never choose between my children. But two in the same stage is beyond anything I could have thought I could handle. (I can't even IMAGINE how moms of triplets do it.)
I hate this about myself. I wish I was one of those women who just loves being a mom - every part of it. After all, this is the job I always wanted. And there is a huge part of me that is so happy with the way things are. I love my husband, I love my kids. I love that I have my own family. But sometimes these thoughts circle in my brain, and the weight of my job bears down in ways I never expected. I'm not just a babysitter, watching two little boys. I'm the one who is responsible for who they will become. I'm the one instilling morals and teaching God's love and acceptance. I'm the one they'll be blaming all their issues on (after all, isn't it always Mom's fault later in life??). No one is a perfect parent. But I just stress so much about making mistakes with them.
Ben is beyond understanding. I really have lucked out with him. He comes home and takes over with the boys, or does dishes or cooks if I'm just so exhausted from the day. Just the other day he came home and cleaned the kitchen while the boys napped and I just watched a TV show on the computer. He totally gets that my days are exhausting and I can't always get to the house upkeep that I want to. I have the very best husband. I am so grateful to God for providing me with His very best. I may not always deserve him, but I so love my husband.
I know that things will change. The boys will grow. There will be new hassles, new stresses, new marvels. It will go from crying for a bottle to crying because they've fallen off the bookcase (I'm pretty positive my two will be climbers from the very start... -_-). I'm sure that one day I will look back on this and laugh about how I thought I wasn't bonding with them. They'll wake up one day and call me Mama, and my heart will be so melted I'll wonder why I ever feared. I love my children. And that love will change and grow as they do. They're my boys, my babies, my heart. Even now, as Monkey babbles away in his swing, I feel the tears well in my eyes. I love them so very much. I still can't believe that they came from me, that they're actually mine. God is so good to me.
All I know is, when I'm in full swing PMS mode, I pretty much become my mother-in-law. I question myself, I cry at a song or just they way my little men are smiling at me. If you know my mother-in-law at all, you will understand what I'm saying. And you will know that I am in no way putting her down or upset at the parallels. Ben and I often talk about how similar we are. And he and I are both ok with that. :) She's a great lady.
I can only hope that one day my sons will find a girl they love, and be ok with the ways she's similar to me.
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