Patience

These days I have little patience left and the little bit that exists is thin, at best. When I had Anderson I was amazed at the amount of patience I had, with what I could endure with a smile on my face. Days would pass without the slightest bit of annoyance swelling inside me. Enter Baby Beck. I noticed it immediately. From the moment I brought him home I was edgier, with a fuse about the length of a birthday candle. He has never been a difficult baby, it's just that where I seemed to be able to keep my emotions in check when there was only one little human running around, it became much more difficult to maintain balance now that there were two.

I suppose like everyone, I have good days and bad. Today having been particularly bad. Which isn't really fair to say as the day went fairly smoothly with only one major Anderson melt-down before napping; but this afternoon brought me to the brink. With a one year old who napped all of about 30 minutes, dinner on the stove, and a 3 year old freaking out at the as soon as the "it's almost time to go" song on Yo Gabba Gabba began, it was like the perfect storm.

These moments come and I try to talk myself down. I count, I try look at it from the outside in, I breath deeply, but when the whining won't stop and the tv is blaring and dinner is about to burn (and the phone is ringing, seriously?) I just lose it. I become grouchy, loud, and more than likely, scary-faced. I just want a moment. Just. One. Moment. to gather my composure, to sit and decompress. But there is no moment. Not even a possibility of one. Because to take that moment would mean to let dinner burn. To ignore my baby who might actually be whining for a reason. To risk taking that moment for granted and using it to run away. Not really. But maybe?

And so I turn into a not nice mommy. The kind who is snappy and sighing and trying her hardest to not say all of the naughty words that are filling her head. And I feel terrible for it. I apologize profusely for raising my voice and try to cover up my mood as best I can. But when nobody is in the room I just may release. I may even throw a letter magnet across the room which just may knock over the little bug catcher in which resides resided a half-dead rather large spider. Where he is now, I do not have the energy to care.

It's not everyday. I need to remind myself of this. But it is nearly every day like today. Days where, by 6:00 I have already grocery shopped, made cookie bars, walked to and back from my parents' with the kids for breakfast and handled a fairly epic meltdown along the way, done 2 loads of laundry, made a homemade shower cleaner and scrubbed the gross shower, planted plants, assembled, wrapped, and delivered a birthday gift, gone to the park, ridden bikes around the neighborhood, played choo choos and construction site, made dinner from scratch, cleaned the kitchen about 47 times, and bathed and put 2 kids to bed all while Gabe is at work. These are the days that make me feel defeated. That make me feel I have not one bit of myself left to give.

And then, Baby Beck throws himself into me to snuggle and Anderson grabs my leg and says, "Mommy, I love you" and the day melts away. At least a large part of it, anyway.

There are so many moms that do ten times what I do in a day with way more children and wear a smile the entire time. And I am glad for them. Truly in awe. But I cannot pretend that my life is not at times overwhelming. That though it may not seem like much to manage it has me questioning my choices and decisions every day.

I love my kids and my life beyond words. But sometimes they both drive me crazy. Seriously crazy.  Thank goodness I made those cookie bars.