I’m sure there will be many honeymoons followed by horrors. The ladies are toddlers after all. Terriffic and very terrible. We had a good run these past few months. Exhibitions of empathy, kindness toward one another, sharing, sweet chatter and energetic galloping goodness. Until this week. There was a new biting incident, perpetrated by the shark, aka Beenie, there have been endless hair pulling incidents by Mimi and then last night she bit her big shark sister on the thumb. Deserved to be sure, but still, we have a zero tolerance in this house for chomps, no matter who is handing them out or receiving them. Nothing makes me more furious and full of self-loathing (what have I done or not done that this heinous act has happened again?!) than the bites. I’m not sure what has brought this nonsense on, frankly, though I suspect this is more the norm, and I should be wondering what had brought on the past excellent and mature behavior of late. More importantly, what was I doing right that I am now suddenly doing wrong? I did have two beers Tuesday night, then again one beer last night, after not drinking anything but the occasional thimble of Scotch for probably two months due to endless colds and almost-colds. Plus, the alcohol these days does not settle well in my head. I am susceptible to headaches and sinus issues, frequently triggered by booze, no matter how small the amount. WHICH SUCKS. Mama needs her little vices. I think I am turning into one of those people who will be able to have the occasional nip, but who does not get to have regular evening cocktails. There has to be something as nice as a beer or glass of wine I can indulge in sometimes. Maybe I’ll turn to excercise…. YUCK!
Putting the girls down this afternoon was a doozey. Mimi went peacefully enough, but that Beenie, boy is she a piece of work. She has to have things just so always every day (thanks a lot, babydaddy!), which I don’t mind indulging, because I think it is good to actually know what you want, and how you want it. But you also have to be able to bend a little, ya know? And Beenie wasn’t bending today, which was a problem, since neither was I. Usually going down for a nap does not involve screaming at the top of her lungs, but today it did. I went in the bathroom door and closed it and cleaned the sink — water running is a good mask for said howling. When I was done, after about seven or eight minutes, so was she. Crying out seems to be a need with young people sometimes, especially when they are exhausted, as she was today. I don’t make a habit of it, tho. If they are crying at night, if it doesn’t go away relatively quickly, I pop in to find out what’s up. This is also a precautionary measure, as if one girl is crying there’s a good chance she’ll wake her sister. Two 2.5 year olds are more difficult to calm down than one. Put that in your Ferber method pipe and smoke it! Bet thems docs didn’t have twins.
There is a shift here, with me. Perhaps because the end of my staying at home with my children nears — they are signed up for full-time pre-school/daycare starting in September when they turn 3. All is contingent on my finding gainful employment, that pays enough to pay for said daycare. I have some reservations about this impending situation and am looking forward to it simultaneously. I know that working an office job is infinitely less exhausting than wrangling two toddlers, and that is mighty appealing to me. But there is a place in my soul that feels that because my Mom stayed home with me till I sprinted off to Kindergarten (when I was 4 years old, and only for a 1/2 day back in the early 1970’s, mind you) I retained a solid sense of self and self esteem — and I wonder if my children will have enough of that when they go off for FULL DAYS, FIVE DAYS/WEEK when they are three. At least they have each other, right? That will have to count for something. And re: Mom staying home with me… who knows if that was what drover her over the edge? Ha! No, seriously, snaps to Mom for holding it together as much as she was able to. For that matter, snaps to all the Moms of the 70’s, putting up with petty sexism and trying to raise decent humans. Thank you!
Is this coming summer really the last summer I am going to have with my daughters for the rest of their childhoods?! That seems preposterous now that it has been written. How can this conundrum be solved? I am at a loss, unless I magically come up with some kind of teaching certificate/degree that lands me a job with summers off. There’s got to be a solution.
In other news, despite whatever rants and complaints I can muster, I continue to be exceedingly grateful for the health and eccentricity of my daughters. Thanks to who/whatever is responsible for such things… good DNA, good luck. Good gravy.