Welcome. Today is “Lori Has a Big Whinge Day”. I am about to have a big, sooky, crybaby whinge. If you don’t like that,
too bad, suck it up princess I do apoligise and I promise we will resume regular programming tomorrow.
I have two children under three years old.
Big freaking deal. I know a lot of you are in the same boat.
So I hope you’ll sympathise.
Up until this point, we were doing A-OK. I define doing A-OK in this house by the satisfaction of a few variables.
a) Mummy has gotten out of her pajamas, and is wearing make up,
b) The house-cleaning Minimum Code of Conduct has been enforced,
c) The kidlets are both fed, slept up, clean, dry-bummed and medicated where necessary,
d) We have practiced the ritual of Leaving The House in some incarnation, whether it be a pilgrimage to the park, shops or PlayMaze.
Really, I don’t think that’s a lot to ask.
But it’s Requirement d) that is giving us some troubles at the moment. Mixed with a pinch of Requirement c) (variable two- slept up) and a large helping of Requirement a).
The Bump has reached the terrible stage of Older Baby-Hood.
You see, NewBorns and Little Babies are tops. They sleep anywhere, everywhere* and they don’t require much prep- just a nappy or two and some wipes, and the booby milk comes along for the ride.
Older Babies are not quite so compliant.
The Bump is definitively on solid foods. Which requires an intensive
gutsing eating session, preferably with floor mat, high chair, bib, wipes, aprons and protective clothing for by-standers, every two to three hours. And she is becoming quite the Sleeping Beauty, with her two naps a day in her cot and nowhere else, thank you very much.
All of which is just fine. If I never, ever want to leave the house again.
By the time the Bump is up from her morning sleep, the Chop is ready for his midday nap. By the time the Chop wakes up, the Bump is ready for another sleep.
Add to that the perpetual feeding of the troops, and things are really complicated. Food and sleep are the holy grails of both Toddler-dom and Older Baby-Hood. Without these vital safeguards in place, the natives get restless. Things get ugly very quickly.
Most days I’m stuck between a rock and a cranky place. A need to get out into the real world and be as social as one can be with a huge pram, a Mary Poppins style nappy bag and a dawdling two year old; versus a need to not have two tired children screaming at me when I get home. A desire to change into my jeans and shirt that doesn’t have food smeared on it; balanced with an apathy that says it easier just to stay in my trackie pants.
This too shall pass, I know that. In five years time I’ll be aching for this time of my life, nostalgic for it as the happiest I’ve ever been.
But some days, the lack of social stimulation just about kills me.
Praise the Google God for the tools of Twitter, FaceBook and blogging, eh?
*Most newborn babies. Bar those with colic or refulx or who just like to scream for the fun of it.