I am not going to lie. I feel tired. I don’t know why I am tired, but I am tired. It feels like everything I do is exhausting. Between the future mechanic toddler who is determined to run in the parking lot and touch every tire rim, truck, and “metersicle” in the vicinity, and a infant who, like all infants, just wants to be held, nursed, and cuddled, I find that my energy tank gets emptied pretty early in the day.
I feel like part of my day is spent in a daze. I thought I was forgetful before children, but I really have reached a whole new level of absent minded-ness.
The other day I was at BJ’s restaurant and the waiter asked if anyone owned a red Charger. I own a red Charger. Apparently I had left my keys sitting on top of my car. I had presented the perfect opportunity for someone to live out their “Grand Theft Auto” dreams. Thankfully someone brought them into the restaurant instead of driving off with my car. The funny thing is the first thing I thought of was that if my car was stolen, my expensive carseats, baby carrier, and double stroller, would be gone. Take the car, but leave my ridiculously expensive baby items!
I can not even remember the last time I bathed the infant. The toddler gets a bath every day because I use the bathtub as a baby sitter, but I can never remember when the baby was washed last. I now have to schedule a day to give him a bath because I am afraid two weeks may be too long to go without one. I schedule everything on my calendar now. It is the only way I can remember to do things. I have little symbols I put on the calendar because I am embarrassed about some of the things I have to schedule.
Pretty soon I will probably forget what my calendar symbols mean and the baby will start to look like Pig Pen from the Peanuts comics.
There is nothing like a trip to the doctor for a well baby check up to remind me that I may be losing it. When my doctor asks how many diapers the baby goes through or how many times he eats, I look at the toddler as if he can help me remember, and then throw out an answer when my brain starts to hurt too much.
I have no idea when my little guy released himself last. I can not even remember what day it is… some days I do not even know what year it is.
I graduated with my BA in three years, but somehow I struggle to keep my life organized with two kids.
I now understand why when my Mom yelled for one of us four kids she sometimes had to say all four names before she got the right name. I get you Mom. I get you.
By the way, would you like to watch your beautiful grandchildren while I sleep?