I remember the days of being a first-time mommy of a newborn. I was scared crapless. I was absolutely paranoid of SIDS. I was heartbroken over Joe's acid reflux and seeing him projectile vomit everything he had just nursed down. Was he too warm? Too cold? I know there was a time or two I called my mom in tears in sheer exhaustion and frustration.
I never thought I would think those nerve-wracking days of having a newborn would seem like cake compared to dealing with Joe as a 19 month old.
There are things I expect out of a toddler boy. Just this weekend he took a shovel and started using it as a spoon to eat dirt. He licked the bubble wand repeatedly. He picked up a spider and handed it to me. He climbed up on the dining room table and stood proudly. He climbed on anything and everything he could. He had a runny nose and would rub it everywhere. He rubbed dirt in his hair. He rubbed macaroni and cheese in his hair. He screamed. He threw rocks. He looked gross, but it is everything I dreamed about with having a little boy.
Yummy dirt
Insisting on climbing it himself...
Yes, he threw that.
However, these last few weeks have become quite the challenge. Joe used to be a wild child, but now he is a pure challenge. Starting at around 16 months he got a little more rambunctious.
Going to Mass became a challenge. Going out to eat was a chore. Now these things are becoming practically impossible. Since we have moved I think I've called my mom every single day in tears. I thought that was supposed to happen in the first few months of becoming a mother.
Every little thing is a challenge with Joe. He fights and squirms at nearly every diaper change. It is a two person job. He hates being in the high chair. He barely eats anything I give him, unless it is junk food. Giving him medicine is a struggle. Giving him a bath is practically impossible. There are times he constantly wants to be held which is getting harder and harder for me with my pregnancy. He won't sit still and just play or read. He has to be on the run. That means I have to be on the run. We've child-proofed the crap out of this place, but he still manages to find a way to nearly break his neck. I know that parenting isn't a job one does sitting down, but just one hour with this kid and I am on the verge of a mental breakdown.
Oh, and his scream. My Lord in heaven, he has a scream that puts Justin Bieber's fans to shame. It is loud. VERY LOUD. He's been in the screaming habit for quite some time, but I swear it is just getting louder and louder and louder. I've read to either ignore it or redirect him to something that will hopefully cause him to STOP SCREAMING! But now we live in an apartment complex so when he screams I get really really anxious. We haven't gotten any complaints (yet) and I know I shouldn't care what other people think, but it's nerve wracking. And when the neighbors above us are playing their music loud, do we really have the right to ask them to turn it down when I know that Joe's screaming probably disturbs them?
I know the move has probably really screwed with Joe. His schedule was pretty consistent when we lived at my in-law's:
10:00- Quiet time in his crib
11:00- lunch
1:30- snack
2:00- nap
5:00- supper
7:00- bed time
Now sometimes he wouldn't go to sleep right away at 7:00. On rare, difficult nights he would toss and turn until 9:00. But all this predictability is out the window. He naps at random times now. I still have his meal times the same. We've moved his bedtime to 8:00 because summer is around the corner-ish and it is so light outside. But he will not go to sleep. We've laid with him in his bed. He screams to be let out of his room. We lay with him in our bed. He screams to be let out. The only way he will sleep is if he is watching a movie. Even then sometimes he won't fall asleep until 10:30 or 11:00 p.m. I feel like I have no break. It's 6:30 a.m. to sometimes 11:00 of chasing him down, redirecting him, holding him, taking things away from him, stopping him from climbing, scolding him, cleaning up after him.... I am really at my wits end.
The worst part of it all? I really feel like a terrible mother. I am constantly losing my patience with him. I've always kind of prided myself in being a patient mother. When Joe has screamed and cried and had tantrums I've always held my cool. I can count maybe three times where I nearly lost it with him. But ever since we've moved here, I feel like I can't handle motherhood. I know there are deeper issues at hand here. I suffered from a deep depression when I was pregnant with Joe and I thank God I have an OB appointment tomorrow so I can get this issue taken care of. I swear this issue of Joe becoming a huge challenge consumes my mind. I can't get a break because he doesn't nap. Ryan thankfully takes over at night so I can have some "me" time and so I can go to bed early, but I lay in bed awake stewing over making the right choices in mothering Joe and finances, and if I'm really cut out for this SAHM thing.
I hate how I yell at him. I hate how I lose my patience. I hate how nothing seems to work, not even a swat on the hand when he is going for the electrical outlets. I feel so guilty for losing my cool. Moving from a place where he was very familiar to a completely new environment has to be hard on him. He's at that age where he is learning and exploring more and wanting his independence. Just a few days ago, after Joe climbed up his changing table I yelled at Ryan, "How can it be that the newborn stage was so much easier than this stage?!" He answered, "Because these critters
think." I shouldn't be so hard on him.
I also feel guilty because there are women out there who would do anything for a child of their own and here I am complaining about my own. There are women who cradle their little toddlers who are suffering from childhood cancer. There are parents who had their children ripped from their arms during the recent tornadoes in Indiana and last year in Joplin. (Ah, geeze, why did I have to even write these sentences. Here come the waterworks...) Why do I constantly focus on the negative about Joe and not think about the joy on his face when he learned how to go down a big boy slide by himself?
Why do I focus on how exhausting it is to be Joe's mother and not the times where he comes running up to me when I'm crying and hugs me and pats my back? He actually wipes away my tears and if he has a binky in his mouth he will take it out and put it in my mouth.
I shouldn't let my anxiety and worry interfere with how I raise my son. But at this point I am confused on HOW to raise him. Joe and I spent the last few days with my mom. She now understands why I call nearly everyday in tears. Her only advice, "This too shall pass." I know this is a normal stage for Joe. I know I am not the only mother who struggles with a stubborn toddler. I know this crazy stage won't last forever and there will just be new challenges down the road. But I am so scared. The decisions I make in regards to discipline and structure will make a difference down the road. I feel like such a lazy mom when I pop in
The Muppets for the 100 millionth time because Joe wants to watch it or because I need a moment of silence and peace. I see his comatose face and think that I should be doing more to engage him. I should be doing more. How can I handle two? Am I crazy to think I can handle a big family like Ryan and I have dreamed of?
Being a mother is the most important role I have. And when I feel like I'm failing at it, I feel like I am failing at everything else.
I know it will get better. I know that I am still learning. I just wish I knew what I was doing!
