Occasionally I think I have it all together, and those are some good days. I enjoy those days. I have two boys, and they are still alive, which means that that one time that Eliot escaped into the street and that one time I got into a car accident with Lincoln mean nothing. Ok, ok, TWO TIMES if you count the accident while I was pregnant. (Don’t be a stickler.)
Also things that don’t count anymore: that time when Lincoln almost fell off a twelve foot wall, that time when we almost all got hit by a falling tree limb, and ALL THE TIMES when Eliot has exuberantly thrown himself under the oncoming ocean waves because he still steadfastly believes he can breathe underwater. Nope, none of those count. Because they are both alive.
Also, I am alive, which means I survived HG once and post-partum depression TWICE. I also live in Hawaii, and I lived for three years in Japan, which means that not only have I been cool places, but I have and am raising two boys without family support with Joe often working long hours. And yet we’re all alive. (Those might sound like some low standards, but I also believe that being alive should always be cause for rejoicing.)
I have a dog that listens well enough that I can walk off of her leash, and my toddler’s ABSOLUTE FAVORITE drink is kombucha. I mean, really. He’d drink that all day long if there was any possible way I’d let him. Sometimes I give him a bottle and come back in three minutes for a drink for myself, and it’s all gone, like it was never there in the first place. It’s like a magician’s disappearing act.
Four days ago I bought a used Thomas Kincaid bedroom set for a fourth of the original price. I jumped on that ad like Eliot pounces my dog when she’s not looking. I was ALL OVER THAT. That person that tried to sneak in behind me and grab it before I could claim it? Nope! I whipped over there and claimed it for mine like Captain Cook and the islands of Hawaii. (Except with a little more compensation and no contagious diseases.)
Sometimes I make healthy dinners, and sometimes I even make them for other people.
Doesn’t that make it sound like I have it all together?
Then I look at my library and laugh.
I may have found and jumped on a dresser set, but it is in fact still sitting empty in my library, making it look like we just moved into our house and making it impossible to watch TV, which is unfortunate, because while I would have loved to add to my list of great qualities that I spend my evenings learning a language or working on my crafting skills (which are sadly lacking), in fact, I really watch TV at night, after collapsing on the couch after the boys are FINALLY asleep.
Because let me tell you, it’s wonderful that Lincoln loves kombucha, but if he drank more sugar juice and went to sleep sooner at night I would make that trade in two seconds flat. FLAT.
And as far raising two boys, if I’m honest, I feel you need to know that I think Lincoln’s teeth get brushed five times a week ON A GOOD WEEK. I mean, I tried my very utmost this morning but I could NOT find his toothpaste, probably because my rooms are covered in currently unused furniture and piles of clothes that got moved out of the old furniture but not yet into the new furniture. I mean, I don’t know for sure that that is the reason, but I’m guessing.
And the last vegetables he ate were a few carrots a few days ago. And before that? Don’t make me remember, because I can’t.
And I would love to tell you that I waited until Lincoln was three to potty train because that’s what I felt he needed, and that’s partially true, but mostly it’s because IT WAS TOO HARD and it stressed me out and pretty much we didn’t potty train until *I* thought I could handle it. Pee puddles on the floor are soul crushing and shattering things, my friends.
And as far as my dog? I’m pretty sure she has PTSD from her previous owners, who must have somehow resembled my boys, because she tries so hard to let them play with her and pet her, but I can see the panic set it quickly. “WHY are they so loud?! Why can’t they just lie down on the carpet, caress my ears and whisper all their secrets to me?”
I feel like I am constantly intervening for her, especially with Eliot, who just doesn’t see the point of anything if he can’t jump on it, hit it, or screech at it in unimaginably high decibels.
But now that I’m 29, I’m going to focus on my kombucha drinking, physically adept little boys, my economical and thrifty ways in getting beautiful furniture, and ignore the fact that both my boys would eat crackers all day long if they could. And I am going to pretend that I watch educational TV documentaries at night instead of rapidly running out of crime shows on Netflix.
Today, I’m going to pretend I have it all together. As a belated birthday gift from me.
Karissa says
You are a beautiful mama and doing great! I can now say on some level I get the postpartum depression. I can’t imagine you doing it all on your own – I personally believe that is asking more than should be expected of any human. So you should consider yourself as having accompished more than is common to man.
dananicoleboyer@gmail.com says
That is a beautiful and gracious thing to say considering I STILL haven’t gotten you a promised package. Love you, friend, and haven’t forgotten. Have a good Fourth of July!