Macgyvering My Way Through Motherhood
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  Macgyvering My Way Through Motherhood

Macgyvering
my
way
through
​motherhood

Coffee needed, wine deserved.

Truth.

Motherhood: The Moments Are Hard, But The Memories Are Easy.

5/11/2016

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It's early morning.

Just a Monday.

I lie half awake, luxuriating in the final moments of quiet that I'll have for the day, when I suddenly overhear my 3 year old alarm clock thump out of his bed, and dart down the hallway towards my room.

Already?

My door flings open, and I purposefully keep my eyes closed just to make sure that he knows I'm still "asleep". I hear him dash across the floor, and the bed shakes as he haphazardly crawls up to snuggle next to me.

6:40 am cuddles have been the norm since he's been able to climb out of his big boy bed.

Thankfully today, it's not 3:40 am.

Before I even have the chance to tell him "Mommy's still sleeping buddy" he's restlessly clutching my face, kissing my cheek and excitedly saying "it's morrninng mom!" in that permanently loud, yet innocent little boy inflection of his.

He's yet to fully grasp the concept of an "inside voice", if such a thing even exists when you're a 3 year old boy.

Above his familiar commotion, I make out the faint back and forth babbling coming from the twins nursery down the hall.

Lately when they wake in the morning, they're comforted by the very sight of each other, and will sit for a while peeking through the crib rails while exchanging their chatty twin banter. A very welcomed variation from exhausted months past, when I was often awakened at a much earlier hour, by the ear-splitting melodies of their hunger driven wails.

Sleepily, I roll myself out of bed and gradually make my way down the hall to their room, right as my big boy flies past me to extend his greetings for the day.

A favorite pastime of his, no doubt.

Walking in, their cheerful eyes meet with mine and I notice that their morning expectations of my presence is different lately, suggesting more of a joyful amusement, than that of a necessity or requirement.

Such a subtle variance, yet today it's oddly palpable.

They squeal up at me and clutch the crib rails as they pull to stand, resembling the big boys that they're too rapidly becoming, their wide eyes beaming at the pair of us.

And although nearly imperceptible, in this curious moment my heart can practically see the slight chubbiness of their once cherubic faces transform from baby to toddler. Their bowed out, chunky baby legs becoming longer and leaner, and their voices somehow sounding slightly older.

Cheerfully babbling my name now, "Mammama" they're reaching for me, and as I lean over to grab one, feeling his strong little arms hugging tight so he doesn't fall off when i go to scoop up his brother...

It hits me.

Like a bullet to the chest.

In almost one week my babies will be turning one, which absurdly promises that in about seven short days, they'll no longer be considered babies.

One week?

As I hesitantly stand before such a perplexity, all I can do is contemplate the fact that t
his mind numbingly hard and inexplicably magical chapter in my life, of growing and birthing little miracles, and mothering newborns, and babies, is somehow coming to a close.

This magnificent phase that began the instant that I learned I was pregnant with my first, that opened up to an eminant precipice on which I nervously stood, staring into the unknown abyss that is new motherhood, that so often seemed dauntless and never ending, is actually ending now and I can never have it back.

No more middle of the night, helpless cries for mommy because they're starving and they need me. My very last taste of what it feels like to have tiny creatures who depend solely and completely on me for their very existence.

No more home from the hospital excitement and tears, and newborn sounds and smells, and tiny hands that fit perfectly inside of mine.

All of it now, forever but a memory.

How did this happen?

Or better yet...when?

Did I over count, or skip a month somehow?

No. Of course I didn't.

I've been too busy counting down the months until life would be easier again. Easier for my firstborn, easier for the family as a whole.

Easier for me.

I've been beyond preoccupied with pushing forward to reach every new milestone, celebrating each tough phase that passes, considering that each passing one gradually makes life feel more manageable, and similar to how it once did.

And, unless there is some kind of miracle unplanned surprise package in store down the road, I only have one week left (at least in my mind) that I will be the mother of babies.

I suppose I've been cognizant that their first birthday was looming, as I've been fantasizing about that very notion for the past 11 months, but on this particular morning my heart is having a difficult time grasping the weight of such a concept.

In short, It appears that my sappy and sentimental thoughts on the matter have drop kicked the $#it out of my poor old heart, right to the point that it causes my aching chest to give rise to pitiful, nostalgic sentiments that well up through my throat, and fall from my eyelids onto the damn floor.


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3 Unfortunate Subjects That You'll Become An Expert In, Once You Have Children

5/2/2016

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Have you ever found yourself so incomprehensibly tired, that you've somehow managed to fall fast asleep while teaching your free spirited 2 year old to crap into a tiny toilet, at the very same time that two infants simultaneously sucked the ever living $h*t out of your nipples?

Only then, to wake up to yourself catching one of the babies that's definitely rolling off of your nursing pillow, as you visually scan the room to discover your toddler pissing in the corner?


No?

Cause that's one jolly hell of a good time, if you ask me.

It also happens to combine all three of the following regrettable subjects that you'll likely become experienced in, once you become a parent.

And if not, then congrats to you my divergent friend, because you have somehow figured out how to rise above these proverbial conundrums, in which case do share your secrets.


Or don't, because I'll probably not buy into your impressive B.S. anyways.

1. SLEEP DEPRIVATION

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  • Denial
  • Anger
  • Tears
  • Bargaining
  • Depression
  • Acceptance
  • The sensation that you're slightly hammered...

Also known as, the seven exciting stages of waking up when you're a sleep deprived parent.

You know, what they say is true, you actually don't know the complete meaning of what it is to be tired until you become a parent.

And believe me, there is a massively staggering difference between simply being "very tired", and being SLEEP DEPRIVED.

I don't say this to sound like a cocky lack of sleep know it all, but more as a slaphappy, experienced friend.


Because before having children, I definitely had my fair share of days that I could've sworn that I was sleep deprived.

You know, from the typical "pulling an all nighter" while studying for an organic chemistry, and anatomy & physiology exam variety, to the "hit the floor tanked" at
6:00 am, dance party and mixed drinks induced kind.

And absolutely, after being up all night and then hurrying off to school early the next morning, followed by a strenuous work schedule in the afternoon, I was extremely tired, and possibly quite hungover, depending on which scenario you choose.

But, the obvious difference there, is that I was able to then casually depart from work at my leisure, drive my tired butt home, walk straight up the stairs to my room and happily fall down into my unshared bed, only to slip peacefully into a deep and restful slumber, right through till morning.

And I probably even slept in until 7:15, although at the time I probably thought of that as really

f*cking early.


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