moments

The past two days have been trying. Nothing special or extreme has happened. The days have been ordinary, but hard.

Whit was able to go back to daycare yesterday, since he'd been fever free for 24 hours. After having both boys at home for a couple of days, I felt a sense of freedom in having only Jack with me at the house. However, after being exceptionally good for me for the days Whit was home sick, Jack felt he needed to make his presence known. From the moment he woke up yesterday he wanted to be nursing. If he wasn't nursing, then he was crying. He proclaimed loudly that he would not be sleeping, and no amount of holding, rocking, walking, or bouncing would do. No pacifiers would be used as stand-ins. Only nursing. In those home-bound moments, when it seems impossible to get out of my pajamas, much less take a shower, it's easy to feel isolated, lonely & trapped.

I did manage to sneak out of the house (with the ulterior motive of having a car ride lull Jack to sleep for a while) & meet John for lunch in Clemson - a rare lunch date with my husband!!

When I picked up Whit from school, all seemed ok. Except that Jack started crying in Whit's classroom. He cried while we gathered Whit's belongings. He cried while I encouraged Whit to walk down the hall to the car a little faster. He cried while I tried to get Whit to stay by my side in the busy daycare parking lot while I put the car seat in the car. He cried the entire way home. He cried while Whit started whining to have a yogurt/cookie/popsicle/peanuts before we were even in the house. In those moments, my pulse is high, but I'm positive I've got this.

While Jack continued to cry, I put Whit in his high chair & gave him a yogurt. I then nursed Jack for what seemed like the 28th time. After Whit & Jack have both finished their snacks, I put Jack in the bouncer & try to finish cooking dinner. Except that Whit starts whining. This is not your run-of-the-mill whining. But nothing-is-going-to-make-me-happy-no-matter-what-you-do whining. Not only is he whining, he's actively defying me. He's purposely doing things he knows he's not supposed to do. He's being unusually aggressive and uncharacteristically mean spirited. About 15 minutes later he has thrown down his plate of food and alphabet pasta is all over the dining room floor. He's absolutely not listening or obeying. Jack is crying in his bouncer, Whit is crying to get out of his chair. I take Whit out & try to calm Jack. I turn around and Whit is taking every one of the soda cans out of the fridge packs that are stored in the kitchen island and throwing them down on the floor. They are bent & one is spewing, but I let him continue b/c frankly I don't have it in me to punish him yet again and evoke yet another screaming episode. In those moments, I question my mothering skills and lose my last shreds of confidence.

John gets home & we make it through the last hour of Whit's day, counting down the minutes until his bedtime. Once he's finally asleep, we clean up the alphabet pasta, pick up the soda cans, make his lunch for the next day, and try to have a grown up conversation about John's future career plans. It's 9:30 and the day is over. In those moments we are exhausted.

Over the next several hours we alternate going upstairs to put Whit back to bed, as he keeps getting up & crying at his bedroom door. Jack finally falls asleep in John's arms, and John subsequently falls asleep on the couch while holding him. Around 11pm I hear Whit crying again. I go upstairs and take him back to bed again. This time he cries for me to stay, so I do. He curls up in my lap. I realize while watching him try to fall asleep that he keeps grabbing his left ear. I instantly realize that his ear must be hurting, which explains a lot. I try several times to move him off of me and each time he moves back so that his head is in my lap. In this moment I am totally at peace, my heart is full, and I wonder if I was too hard on him earlier in the evening.

After I sneak out of Whit's room, I wake John, and place Jack in the cradle by our bed. Amazingly, he stays asleep. He wakes to nurse at 1am and again at 4am. At 7am I crawl out of bed so I can spend a few minutes with Whit before John takes him to daycare. He's eating his oatmeal, being very silly. John & I talk in the kitchen, and I turn to see Whit talking to himself. He's pointing to the dots on his bowl of oatmeal. Then I realize he's not talking, but "counting". I've never heard him count on his own. I ask him to do it again, and he counts all the way to six by himself. SIX!! In this moment I couldn't be more proud of him.

John leaves and takes Whit to school. I pick him up two hours later and we go to the doctor. While waiting, Whit continuously says, "Put dat doctuh way." (translation: Put that Dr. away - or let's leave). The Dr. confirms that Whit has an ear infection. We go home, and do it all over again.

Most of the moments that make up my days are quickly forgotten, but some of the very ordinary ones I hope I always remember.