Working for my money

I used to read these parenting books for expecting and new moms which implied that parenting was a huge change, that I should expect to be stressed and chronically exhausted. I'm nearly three years into this whole mom gig, but I can't say I ever experienced those feelings. Sure, some days make you want to tear your hair out. Sometimes you want to smother your kids. Some nights you let that baby cry for a while because you can't quite drag yourself out of bed. But I can't say I've ever felt that being a parent was as difficult as those books made it seem. I will say that I have no doubt that this is helped by the fact that I am no longer a working mother (those were difficult days), I have a supportive husband, and not much in the way of financial worries. Still, I know some other mothers who still manage to stress over motherhood enough to ensure that the authors of those books will continue making money.

All that being said, the last couple of weeks are making me work harder than I've ever had to. Ever. In addition to the incidents I've mentioned in recent blogs, there have also been incidents involving soy sauce, fruit punch, vomit, more poo, more vomit, and late-night, mysterious origin vomit. The carpet cleaner has been on constant standby as these things occur. Some things happen right there in front of me-- or on me, as the case may be-- but other things are only discovered later as smells or stains of questionable cause. Children who are sick enough to sleep all day are also sick enough to be up all night, crying, pooing, and (you guessed it) vomiting.

I still think those books are exaggerating, since I know for a fact that an infant will sleep enough to let new moms grow into the fact that they will probably never sleep more than 5 consecutive hours again. Many of the things that could be labeled as "huge changes" don't happen the instant a baby comes home from the hospital. Parents grow into these things. However, I have had a glimpse into the world of chronic exhaustion-- yesterday I passed out on the living room floor, and had horrible dreams of torture that turned out to be merely a nine-month-old pulling out chunks of my hair. After a night of projectile vomiting, that's not worth waking up for.