A Different Life

Yesterday was my second mother's day. While nothing was about the day itself was spectacular, it definitely gave me an appreciation for how different our lives are now than a year ago. A year ago I had a three month old and all I wanted was a really long nap and to be able to lay Gus down without him screaming.

How different our lives are now! Rob and I contemplate daily how any child of ours could think that 8.00 AM sharp is an acceptable wake up time when there is nowhere to be. I'm a little disgruntled about the hour because I prefer to be up an hour or so before he is, but I don't wake at 7.00 naturally or motivated by an alarm clock if there is nowhere I have to go. So for now, the baby is my alarm clock. I get him out the crib, turn him loose while I brush my teeth and hair and then go down to make our breakfast.

After breakfast we play. A week ago, we moved into a house much too large for us so we have a floor of our house that doesn't have any furniture. In the morning, Gus runs around this room like a crazy person while I sit in the middle and growl at him and pretend like I'm going to pounce if he stops running. Then we do something more calm like reading or practicing how to make snow angels on the kitchen floor so when the snow comes we're ready. Then mommy gets her computer time while Gus goes up and down the stairs over and over, working very hard to wear himself out for his morning nap.

Then we rock. Oh, how the rocking has changed over the course of a year. Last year he lay calmly and passively in my arms. This year, twice a day we have a baby's choice rocking session. Sometime he lets me hold him and we pretend he is a well adjusted, calm child. Sometimes he sits upright on my lap and we rock till he spaces out and falls over. A personal favorite of mine is when he absolutely wants to be on your lap but refuses to sit still and expects you to keep him from falling as he climbs up to your shoulders and hangs over the back of the chair or launches himself backward between your knees expecting you to hold his feet and rock as fast as you can. His new spin on rocking has us in side by side rockers, rocking back and forth and singing together until he is ready to climb the stairs and retrieve puppy and binky.

Then comes the cornerstone of my day...naptime. Half his nap is devoted to mommy time, reading, napping or eating if it has been a few days. The other half I use to do chores that are impossible when he is "helping," like folding laundry. He will hand me a piece of clothing, I fold it and put it in the stack, then he unfolds it and hands it back to me. While this will keep him entertained for hours, folding laundry is already at the bottom of my list of favorite household chores and I have no desire to fold the same shirt eight times. Right now, that half of naptime is being used to unpack items that aren't baby friendly, like medicines and soaps or picture frames and hardware.

All too soon, he is hollering to be let out of his crib. Depending on his mood, we have a brief snuggle session in the rocker, then he tears through the house like his diaper is on fire to do a cat inventory and make sure that they appreciate it the next time he is out of commission for a couple hours. Next is lunch which lately has been punctuated with "no," "off the table," "on your bottom," NOW!" We have started teaching him to stay seated in a normal chair at mealtimes as not all our friends and families have high chairs and most are not amused when he climbs on the dining room table during meal time and starts splashing in whatever they fixed for dinner and restaurants definitely don't find that sort of thing adorable.

Next we wash dishes which keeps him occupied for a good hour (what is it with running water and kids anyway?). Then the afternoon gets underway. This is the most entertaining and exhausting part of my day. On any given afternoon I will do 90% of the following activities: rescue a cat

pull something out of a toilet

take something sharp away from him

yell at him for chewing on an electrical cord

tell him to "Get down from there right now!" at least a dozen times

accept a few drive by hug and kisses attacks

put at least two dozen books back on the shelves

put the trash back in the trash can

tell him hitting mommy is not nice

kiss a booboo and/or pin him down while we stop a wound from bleeding since he eats bandaids

take a crayon out of his mouth

clean up a shredded piece of paper and/or take it out of his mouth

change his clothes at least once

hold him while he cries because he ran into a wall face first

pluck him off the dining room table four or five times

rewind a roll of toilet paper or stuff an entire box of kleenex or wipes back in the box.

Rob's mom commented yesterday that he must get all his energy from me because Rob was apparently not psychotic as a toddler. I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. I did pray that the next child likes to play with his fingers, sleep and gaze contently out of a window.

The evening is the highlight of my day. Rob comes home, we have dinner and then we play. He learns his body parts and how noses are in the same place on mommy, daddy, and Gus. Gus shows us his belly button and how he can tickle himself. He practices counting on his fingers and showing how old he is. He practices pointing to the right color ball when mommy says a color and the right animal when daddy makes the noise they make. If he is cooperative, we read a story. Then Rob puts on waltzes and Gus takes turns dancing with mommy and daddy in the kitchen till it is time for jammies and brushing his teeth. Then daddy rocks him to Andre Rieu until bedtime.

After Rob lays him down, we sit at the kitchen table in silence for a while and drink our tea and enjoy the quiet, we wash dishes, feed the cats, switch the laundry and then head to the couch to read (me) and watch tv (Rob). Last year this would have been the productive part of my day, but now I feel I have been dragged into responsible adulthood by my one year old. I'm up at eight, in bed by midnight or one most nights, my dishes and laundry are done daily, we eat three meals a day, I can't finish a book a day anymore, I actually remember to get my mail almost every day, and most weeks we get to the grocery store. Happy mother's day mom! I give you maturity and responsibility!