This post is supposed to be the Postpartum Journal Part Two but this has to be written now or I might walk out the door and leave my children in this house alone, which would be bad, very bad.
I f'in HATE sippy cups. Why so many parts? The very best have at least three: the cup, the lid, and the suction part that keeps the liquid in. Some have more than three parts. Lids that have removable handles, suctions parts that have rings, and the worst ones of all: lids with straws! So many places for grime and mold to harvest, so many pieces to get lost or fall down in the disposal. And the damn things are all over my house. Under beds, in the bathroom, between the couch cushions, in bags, in the car..I can't find them and wash them fast enough. Oh, yeah and not having a dishwasher adds to my despise of the sippy cup invasion.
I am ready to round them all up and take them to Goodwill and let him have ONE little regular plastic cup and deal with any spills. Since he likes playing in the water so much, he can wash his own cup when it needs washing.
I really feel like a bitch right now.
I must be about to start my period again (after a long, long and much loved reprieve) because I can't find any patience. Right now I am feeling very overwhelmed and really want to scream so instead I am trying to vent by sitting here pounding out my frustrations which might be a little more constructive...although, I don't know because Samuel is pissed about it! I truly can't handle Samuel crying to sit on my lap, to 'get some more water.' I can't stand at the sink anymore this morning washing the black shit out of any more rubbery sippy cup parts..how many can there possibly be??
I am trying to remember to return to the breath..which is what I teach the new moms and dads taking my birthing class..."when you feel stressed, aggravated, impatient..you can always return to the breath to ground yourself and quiet the mind.." yeah, ok.
Time for me to put it to use. Easy when I'm just trying to go to sleep but now it's time for me to practice what I preach.
'I am breathing in, I am breathing out,'...and my brain is pounding, my muscles are tighting, there's a toddler screaming and pulling on my arm, 'I am breathing in, I am breathing out.' I hear Myla crying in her room trying to go to sleep. Return to the breath, I tell myself. I try to ignore the sobbing, red faced, child yanking on my limbs. What does he need? Nothing. He wants to play in the water and he's been playing in the water and dumping it all over the floor..more mess for me to clean up. 'Gets some more water!' He throws himself on my lap and starts screaming louder. He wants me to hold him on my lap. No, I don't have to hold you just because you're not getting what you want.
I keep typing.
Whoa, am I a bad mother?
No, I am trying to regain my sanity, right now, in this moment.
I can feel my blood pressure rise..'breathe in, breathe out.' I continue to ignore Samuel in hopes that his fit will pass. He wants my cereal and I am finished with it. Myla has fallen asleep. I put a handful of Cinnamon Toast Crunch in a bowl and sit it on the couch. Samuel accepts that offer and stops crying. He's lying on the couch now and I can see he's tired. He woke up too early.
I keep typing and he sits quietly and slowly munches the cereal, sniffling.
My temperature seems to drop a little bit. I can feel a little calm creeping in.
I keep typing and breathing and now..
No noise. I hear the water trickling in the fish tank that needs cleaning. I hear the air conditioning blowing. I hear the laptop keys clicking. I hear my breath. In, out. In, out.
The fit is gone. My heart rate is still slowing. The moment over..on to the next one, more peaceful, this one.
Maybe I'll finish washing those sippy cups so at least there clean when I take them to the Goodwill this afternoon.
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