Baby steps... literally.
I am the bag lady. The one with the baggage. Lots of it. It's just all centered up front, attached to me. And some of it hangs on my arm or runs ahead. I walk slow. I feel like every day, every hour and minute are showing on my face. I start the day exhausted, as if it was three o'clock in the afternoon already. "You got your hands full", the sorry faces, the things they don't say ("You are ka-razy, mam." Three! THREE!). Yeah, look at me, all roped up and tied down. No way to run, no inch of leeway.
"Baaaag lady, you gon' hurt your back..."
No kidding. I do feel crowded. In my mind just as much. Everybody's identities all mixed up. "What do you do all day?" is the standard question for the full-time mother. "Everything you're doing, only at about 15% speed. It would take you all day, too". What an exercise in patience. Nevermind exercise, it's the master class. All my space rented out. Efficiency turned way down. Minimum volume efficiency.
"Bet ya love can make it better"
Strangely at times... it feels freeing. What you're gonna do to the pregnant lady? I'm more relaxed at the gym, even with the stares ("Is she really exercising? Watch her on that treadmill! Careful, she could "go" anytime!"). I go straight for the weights section. What? Whatcha looking at? Thought so. Don't want to mess with this baggage. No ogling here.
Ah, the freedom. Something I don't want to do? I won't. Watch me. Goodie bags? Cupcakes? Not me. Pick a different victim. My minutes are accounted for, so are the calories. Just enough to make it until bedtime. Leave me alone... never was easier to say.
The tantrums, the tears and the frustration... toddlers are much easier to understand now. I feel for you, kid. I know what it's like, even if I'd rather not. You are so little. What can you do but to hang on for dear life. I will stick it through for you, I promise. Eventually. One thing at a time. Love does make it better.
Posted at 03:26 PM on January 20, 2008
Dinka, we just discovered that we have a third on the way, too. I feel like an official "crazy Catholic lady" -- I've crossed over.
My little one is 14 months. The "big" one is just three. I am terrified.
Oh Rachel... I SO know the feeling (both the terrified one and the crazy-cath.-lady one). Congratulations! We'll just take it a day at a time, I suppose.
But you only have THREE! Why do people make such a big fuss for three? I still can't get over it. Shaking my head...