Toddler See, Toddler Do

As a parent, I think one of the most rewarding things we see is our children learning.  From the moment they smile back at you for the first time to their graduation day, nothing quite fills your heart with as much pride.

Then again, one of the scariest things as a parent is the thought that your bad habits will be picked up by your kids.  You hope that they can be the best of you and hope the worst passes them by.

Lately, I've been struggling with stress.  Actually more than lately- since Norah has entered our family.  Nothing exhausts you like having a newborn that won't stop crying, a toddler who wants your attention, and a new puppy to train (who's idea was the puppy again? Oh right...me.)  Slowly the stress has been eating at me bit by bit and in the last two weeks it's bubbled over.

I've been this angry woman that I don't recognize.  I want to sleep all the time.  I just want to leave the apartment and I sometimes just scream because I can't hold it anymore.

The other day I got so frustrated with the girls crying and the dog nipping at my feet that I slapped the couch a few times and then cried out.  To my utter dismay, It scared Evelyn.  If you have never scared your child, I hope you never do.  It was completely heartbreaking.  I gathered her up and told her everything was going to be okay.

She bounced back within a minute, like toddlers do, and then proceeded to mimic me and copy my little outburst.  I laughed to break the tension and we went on with our day.

That night I put on some yoga and relieved some of the stress and anger that has been building inside me.  It's been a few days and haven't been angry or frustrated.  If you find something that relieves your stress, I highly suggest you do it before you burst.

The last few days this has been weighing on me, and I've been wondering what other bad habits my daughter is going to copy.  That is until I saw her with her little baby doll and stuffed animals and she was rocking them in her arms and "shh shh shh-ing" them and then she planted five kisses on their heads like I do with Norah when she is upset.

I can't tell you what it did to my heart- realizing that she did see the good things I do and not only the bad.

However, I strongly advise you watch what you do around children because they are sponges.  They truly pick things up so fast and you don't want to realize your bad habits when your child is doing it.

Depression Waves

To practice my writing, I asked friends to give me topics to write about.  Here is the first.  It's about a teen girl struggling with depression after being abused.  Enjoy.

I am floating on the dark indigo waves of a crashing ocean.  My body is being carried along by the tumultuous sea; up and down and spinning through waves.  At times I feel as if I’m being lulled to sleep by its soothing rocking cadence.  At others I feel like I can’t catch my breath between crests crashing on my chest-forcing the breaths to come out in shallow gasps.  I try to grab anything near me- even if it the passing shark that’s been circling me for hours just waiting for me to stop fighting and give in.  Outside the ring the shark has claimed around me I hear my mom calling for me.  I hear my best friend, Olivia too.  They are all telling me that I’m just in a pool, not an ocean.  They are telling me that all I have to do is stand up and clime out into the sunshine and warmth.

But when I open my eyes to look for them, all I see are the thousands of stars in the sky before the next wave blacks them out and crashes onto me.  When I get pulled under the water I start to remember the man who threw me out to see.  I see him in his beautiful boat full of shining treasures and promises.  I see him as he was to me those long years ago as he tempted me out into the sea.  As I try to make my way to him he changes into the blood thirsty pirate that ripped me open and stole my happiness to add to his riches.  He put my soul in the trophy case next to others that he stole from innocent girls like me.  It’s glowing in all its glory and I just want to crawl back on that ship to grab it back but I can’t escape this drowning feeling.  It’s tugging at my clothes and fighting me one day, and lulling me into senseless slumber the next.   Then it washes the cold remembrance through my heart when I least expect it. 

My mom and Olivia throw life preservers in to me but they just drift by me.  I can almost never grab one and when I do, I can’t hold on for long.  I’m being pulled under the water again when I see a light in the distance.  It’s gradually closing in on me and suddenly I’m waking from the storm surrounding me as the anchor woman on my television tells me about a local college frat boy being charged with rape by a fifteen year old girl.  I’m not fifteen anymore and he wasn’t in college when he attacked me, but I know it’s him.  Olivia and I always thought he was cute and she thought I was crazy when I told her I didn’t like him anymore.  She especially thought I was crazy because he had actually noticed me at the party we went to.  How he brought me a drink and introduced me to his friends.  She looked at me like I had lost my mind and no matter how many times she asked me why, I never told her.  Who would believe me?

Well there he was, on the TV, and there was she, Jocelyn.  She, at fifteen, was doing what I never did.  She was telling the world how this man violated her and ripped her apart, just like he did me.  As she’s crying, I see a strength shine in her eyes-glistening behind the hurt and anguish.  Its saying, ”I will fight and I will win.”

I can breathe again.  I don’t know when it happened but I’m not struggling for breath like I have been for the last year.  I look at my hands and they are coming back to life.  The numbness from the cold ocean of grief is receding.  I climb off my mattress and switch off the TV and head to the shower.  I can’t quite remember the last time my mom hasn’t had to force me to take one.  I hear her gasp as she sees the towel slung over my arm. 

I can’t recognize the girl staring back at me in the mirror.  She’s pale with sunken cheeks.  Her brown hair is in knots around her face and her eyes are tired; but in those eyes I see a resilience that I hadn’t seen since before my attack.  I have a purpose again.

After I’ve scrubbed my body pink from head to toe, and tackled the rats’ nest my hair had become, I finally find some clothes that fit me.  I pick up my bag and head to the door.  I jump in my car and drive to the police station and start to tell the first person-a kind looking, librarian-type woman what happened to me that night at the party.  I start slowly and awkwardly but as I’m speaking I feel a wave of relief and cathartic release wash over me and soon I can’t get the words out fast enough. 

I am finally climbing that boat of lies and hurt and stealing back my soul from that thief.  I am saving myself from the sea of turmoil that my life has become.  Thank you Jocelyn.  Thank you for the light.

The Stay At Home Mom

On a good day, I might clean the apartment before you get home.
Give both the girls a bath- but you know it's the first one I've given them in days, maybe even a week.
We both know I only did it because the toddler is covered in milk and the newborn is starting to smell from all three of our combined body sweat.
I might have made dinner but you can bet your ass I didn't clean up the mess in the kitchen.
I'll wait a few days, decide it's too much for me to handle and then I'll ask you to clean it for me.
It will then take another day or two to actually get it done because we have so many dirty dishes we've begun to use the larger than our mouth spoons and tupperware as bowls for the mass amounts of cereal we consume.
I might have taught the dog to "come," but you will mostly likely step in pee spots when you get home from work.

I say these things because as a stay at home mom, you might wonder why I'm in the same recliner I was in when you left.
You might wonder why I ask you to clean or to hold the baby or rock her to sleep.

It's because saying the word "Water," fifteen times to a toddler who pronounces it "Mahnee," isn't difficult, but because it wears on me.
It's because I'm the one holding an infant for 21 hours a day-because she refuses to be put down for more than a few hours between 1:00 AM and 4:00 AM.
Who has to rock both the infant and toddler simultaneously.
Who has to try to kick the highchair away from the surprisingly acrobatic Pomeranian who insists on eating the toddler's food before she can finish.
Who has to keep finding higher shelves and hooks to put pens and purses and pretty things so they don't end up on the wall, strewn through the hallway or broken.
None of this is hard, but it is exhausting.

I hate when you get home and you can't see the effort I've put in to raising our girls.
I feel like a disappointment when I have to ask you for a break after you've worked an eight hour shift in the customer service industry.
I want you to have time to relax but I also haven't peed in a few hours and my bladder's about to burst.
I take advantage of the respite and instead of getting some alone time-which seems like a self indulgence I can't afford- I try to bring our apartment into some semblance of order to prove to you that I don't sit around and do nothing all day and that you can be proud of me.
And I do it all in spite of the knowledge that within thirty minutes of the toddler waking- all that work will be for naught.
I do it because even though kids are exhausting, I love them and I'm grateful daily I get to see them as much as I do.  And I'm grateful you make it happen.
But please don't forget me in the trenches, because down here, we are covered in drool and playdoh and just maybe we need a potty break to check our facebook in peace.

XXOO
-C