A Day in the life of our family
A Guest post by Samantha Olivier
Ok, let’s get this show on the road before naptime is over. When you’re a mom and you have not one, but two boys, believe me, it’s no picnic.
There are two things certain people have a tendency of telling me that just make my blood boil. The first one is:
“Oh, your boys aren’t sleeping well, gosh, I have trouble waking up my daughter when it’s time to breastfeed, she can sleep for hours on end.”
Thank you Mellissa, I don’t know how I managed before those pearls of wisdom.
The second thing is the ever-condescending,
“Well, you’re on maternity leave, it’s like a paid vacation.”
Oh, trust me, with two boys, one three and a half (Jamie) and the other nearly two years old, (Ben), I’ve had my share of vacations and I don’t recall being surrounded by poopy diapers while I was sunning by the pool.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my boys to pieces, but raising two boys while growing a third human being, who btw, often mistakes my bladder for a squeeze toy, isn’t a walk in the park. I see those kids who just sit and play with their cars and blocks and then turn to my two and immediately, my glance is met with mischief in their eyes, and I know – trouble is coming.
Ok, it’s been over an hour since I wrote the first paragraph, because Ben hasn’t made number two in three days, so I was doing those leg exercises and yup, while we were on the sixth knee-bend, he just let it all out right on the changing table. His aim was really good too, and because it was semi-liquid it caught a bit of my yoga pants and just a touch of the T-shirt, because God forbid I should have a clean shirt.
I swear I sometimes think that all babies are out to get your clothes until no garment is left unmarked. Naturally, I couldn’t afford to take a shower, because that would imply me leaving the room for more than five minutes, in which case the younger one screams bloody murder. Oh, did I mention that he’s in the ‘I want mommy phase’. Oh, my bundle of joy.
So, I barely had time to baby-wipe myself and throw on something that wasn’t covered in, well, something , so when I came back to the living room there was a wonderful gift Jamie had left me. I’d made him a smoothie and made myself some, but after he drank his he finally paid attention to my wise words that sharing is caring and decided he would take my share off the desk.
The only flaw in the plan is that he’s not as tall as likes to believe (he’s like one of those cocky poodles that lift their leg high up when they pee on a tree, so other dogs would think he’s bigger than he is), the jar slipped and now I have a smoothie with the side of shattered glass on the floor. I put Ben in a chair and he’s crying fake tears, because he just started walking, so why on earth would he sit, right? I clean up the mess and count my blessings that he didn’t spill it all over my laptop. These days I’m all about silver linings. I realize that if I even have a shot of getting some work done and get 3 hours of uninterrupted sleep I was going to have to pull out the big guns and tire those boys out so when we get home they’ll just pass out.
My secret weapon is this indoor trampoline park in our Las Vegas, because Jamie loves jumping (he also likes banging on the pot lids and pretend they’re drums).
I thought after a while I would learn to ignore the noise, but at this point I think I’d rather submit myself to Chinese water torture than hear that piercing sound one more time.
Did I mention that I love my boys very much?
We wait for daddy to come home. I’m pretty tough, but I’m simply outnumbered, so there’s no way I can handle both of them while carrying a six-month-old human inside me. I need backup. So, we hit the park, and Jamie starts jumping like there’s no tomorrow. Ben hasn’t quite mastered the jumping, so he just sits next to Jamie and laughs like he’s at an Eddie Izzard show. At least he’s easily entertained (silver linings).
But wait, this is where the fun begins. In the middle of his stunt Jamie just throws up.
All. Over. The trampoline. A few chunks fly Ben’s way. I am mortified.
It doesn’t matter that the people at the park are super nice and say it wasn’t a big deal – nothing was going to diminish this level of embarrassment. So, we leave, after me and my husband apologized a hundred times. The drive home was a blast, a blast of smell I mean, so I start to get queasy while the two of them are laughing their a** off because apparently vomit is hilarious.
Bath and dinner, somehow we get through it, and while Jamie went down as soon as he hit the pillow, Ben decided not to go down without a fight. Did I mention that he doesn’t fall asleep until he’s rocked, preferably for two hours? My boy, the royal. I’m rocking him on the pillow, on my swollen legs and while his eyes are closed he’s releasing this sound of a vacuum cleaner that’s slowly reaching the end of its lifespan. After two hours, he’s finally down. I don’t even know why I feel joy – he’s gonna be up in two hours anyway.
But here I am, it’s 1 am, and I am just wrapping up my story. At least I managed to share it with you (silver lining). So, there you have it, living with three and a half men. Still, as I sit here I’m laughing, because at the end of the day, you learn to cherish every ridiculously frustrating moment, knowing that they’ll be going to college soon, and I’ll be sitting with my husband reminiscing about the time Jamie blew chunks at a park.
That’s parenthood for you.
How did you handle being pregnant with toddlers? Any funny stories to share? Let us know in the comments below!
Samantha is a personal trainer (at least she used to be) and fitness blogger currently on maternity with her third son. Needless to say, life is completely different now that she is home all the time. She is addicted to running and collects running sneakers, preferably those that don’t stain easily.