I had one of those days … It all started when my youngest, my darling boy began shouting through the wall at 5:49 am and despite my “rational” explanation that it was too early to be awake, this 20 month old – with lungs an opera star would envy – decided to moan out his displeasure until 7:45 am. At which time, I was greeted at my bedroom door by his slightly older 2 year old sister — in the buff. Yes, naked as a jay bird.
Groggy and stupefied as to why my children don’t sleep past 6:00 am – ever, but without a second thought about the naked kid – I stumbled downstairs with these two in tow when Solomon tripped headlong down the stairs and crashed into the wall at the bottom. My heart stopped as I grasped at the air trying to catch him and I shouted the crazy words of a panicking insane person hoping to somehow cushion his fall.
I rushed to scoop him up but he pushed me away and took off into the living room without looking back. I scooped him up again, my fluttering heart needed a good long snuggle while I gave him a thorough once over to be sure he wasn’t broken or permanently addled. To my relief, he had only a small welt under his right eye and was more interested in finding his sister than being with me. Yup, all was fine.
Despite the panic, my uprightness far exceeded my wakefulness and for the rest of the day I felt like I was carrying sandbags over my shoulders. All day I strained to contain the grumpy beast within- trying to keep her from lashing out at the poor vulnerable babes. I may have failed to rein her in completely, but we did manage to get some school done, some dishes done, and some cuddles in. By dinner however I wanted to call in sick for the rest of the day. But my husband had to go out, leaving me to face the rest of the evening; the putting to bed, the reading of stories … it might as well have been Mt Everest … I just didn’t feel like I was going to make it.
from: Offerings (Edited for my sanity)
Again: August 11, 2015
Truth is – I don’t remember this day.
I do remember the tired feeling, but that is because it was common in those days. 5 years later, I was diagnosed with Hypothyroidism, a condition I likely developed during one of my pregnancies (if not before). Turns out tired comes in all sorts of ways but I could not distinguish tired because “I had to get up with my kids multiple times a night and start my day before 6:00 am” from tired “my-thyroid-is-broken.” For me it is all the same memory – I do, however, strongly suggest that mums get their thyroid tested as it is very common to have a thyroid issue develop post pregnancy, any pregnancy.
I wonder, if I had been diagnosed earlier, if I would have struggled as much with fatigue, anxiety, and irritation during those days. I don’t think an earlier diagnosis would have made all my days sunshiny and full of rainbows but I think there may have been opportunities for great joy and appreciation when in the trenches. My point: getting tested won’t lessen the work, but it might lighten the load.
My other thought comes back to … I don’t remember this day. It didn’t leave a mark, it has become chaff in the wind and that is a good thing.
Parental amnesia – it is the reason we have more than one child. It is the reason we encourage our children to have children – despite the truth that there are days one would rather not walk through. I do yearn for that snuggle on the couch. I would like to remember her cute lean toddler body waddling about sans clothes, her adorable cheeks (you know what I mean) and his robust energy and ability to “brush it off” and get back to the important business of play.
I may remember the tired but my memory of the grind has softened and blurred. I believe I will be one of those fabulous grandmother who only remembers all the wonderful things about her kids and about those “good old days.”