Dear Mom with a Newborn and a 2-year-old,
I saw you at the park today with your newborn strapped to you while you chased after your toddler. Your hair was askew and your outfit was just above jammies. You did’t have make-up on and it looked like you had abandoned your flip-flops over by your stroller.
Your toddler was wearing shorts, a tee shirt, and crocs. His hair was flying all which-ways. His mouth had a hint of breakfast around it.
Your newborn was asleep next to your heart, happy as can be, close to mama.
And I was so proud of you.
Proud because your head didn’t hit the pillow until 11:00 last night and the baby woke up for a feeding at 11:15, right after you had just dozed off. Your toddler was up at 3am because of a nightmare and then the baby was up again at 3:30 to eat again. And then someone else was up at 5:45 and then at 6:40, you decided to start the day even though yesterday never really “ended.” But you still made it to the park.
Proud of you because at breakfast this morning, your toddler threw his French toast at you because you put the syrup on top of the French toast instead of in a puddle on the side of the French toast. In his fit of rage, he knocked his “leak-proof” sippy cup of milk over and it open and spilled a big streak of milk all over the floor. You mollified your toddler using what can only be described as blatant bribery and then got down on your hands and knees to mop up the milk spill with a cloth so that no one would slip and fall in it or worse, play in it. But you still made it to the park.
Proud of you because when it came time to get out the door, you realized you hadn’t taken your vitamins, nor had you packed a snack for yourself (and let’s face it, you’d need one because all you ate for breakfast was a few bites of leftover French toast and lukewarm, decaf coffee which only had milk in it because you ran out of half and half and you snicker to think about when would you get to the store to buy more?) so you throw a few granola bars into your diaper bag. Then you lifted the sleeping newborn out of her bouncy chair to get her out of her swaddling blanket and into the carseat only to realize that she had exploded poop all over her clothes, swaddling blanket (the only one that works that you’ll now have to launder and make sure gets dry before the next nap at home), oh, and the bouncy seat cover. But at least after the poop, she went right to sleep so that you could get your toddler dressed and ready and share some tickles and read a book together. And you got to get dressed too, sort of. So anyway, you gingerly carry the newborn to the changing table and change a massive mess and throw everything into the washing machine and set a reminder on your phone to move the wash to the drier as soon as you get home even though you don’t want your toddler to see you “playing” with your phone because he already sees your nose in that glowing screen enough. But you still got to the park.
Proud of you because on the way to the park, you realize that you didn’t bring any water for your toddler or for you, and that really, the best thing would be to stop at the grocery store anyway because of the half and half and diapers, and a million other things you could pick up. So you stop and you wrangle your people into position (toddler in the cart, baby in the carrier) for a quick turn around the store and the toddler cooperates but kicks you and the newborn from his little seat in the cart and you have to whisper in his ear about please be sweet to our baby and to mama in the middle of the store and he cries and ohmygoodnessthisishard. But you still got to the park.
Proud of you because when you’re buying the groceries, you decide you’ll need to buy a cooler bag because you still have to get to the park before home and things need to stay cold. And the cooler bag is $4.99 but it’s just what’ll have to happen. And the woman behind you in line compliments your parenting and makes silly faces at your toddler and wistfully waxes about how “it goes by so fast” and you can’t find your debit card so while you’re digging in your wallet you half-smile and say “I know” but really think about when will it go faster? But you still got to the park.
And proud of you, sweet mama, because even though going to the park is your least favorite thing to do, you did it. It’s lonely and boring and it’s a lot of pushing a swing for 45 minutes at a time. And there’s sand in shoes at the end and messy faces and snacks strewn all over the blanket and the newborn may have gotten too much sun and you are hungry and sweaty and smelly because no shower-for days-no shower. But you still got to the park because your toddler loves it and feeling the sun on your skin makes you remember that you are a person who feels things. That this experience of doing and feeling life together with your children is a wonderful motivation to experience more together.
You get home and as you drive in the driveway and Siri reminds you to change the wash to the drier, you think of the list. All the things that must happen now (groceries, laundry, lunch, nursing, naps and more) and the day’s only half done. But you decide to look back at the kids before you get out of your seat. The newborn sleeps, you can see her in her baby car-mirror. The toddler’s head is resting on the side of his carseat and his eyes lock with yours. And with a sudden burst of energy and a sweet smile, he says, “Guess what mama? I love you!”
“I love you too, buddy!” you say with a most genuine smile right back at him.
You’re doing it, mama. You’re teaching and living and nurturing and caring and disciplining and it’s a whirlwind but you’re doing it.
And you got to the park.
Sincerely yours,
Another Mama