A Long Day.

I'm wiped. I'm remembering back to bringing Benjamin home from the hospital and those first few weeks and wishing a little bit to go back there. I've always thought having one child is really like having a hobby instead of actual parenting and I know some people out there might disagree, but I was so right. I had it good back then. If the baby had a rough night... No prob, I'd just sleep during the day. If Ben had to suck on me all day... No biggie, more time to sit on my duff and watch TV. It wasn't like I had anything else to worry about. Oh sure, eating and bathing may have had to be put off, but nothing crucial was waiting for me. Taking care of one child is a hobby. I've said it before and I'm sticking to it.

Two is a slightly different story. (Cancel slightly and insert totally.) Anyone who has had more than one child knows this. If I don't get to sleep at night... I don't get to sleep. End of story. If Sam thinks he should suck on me all day... I'm basically screwed. I have to try to make Ben's lunch during those 15 minute breaks when I might have liked to go to the bathroom, or listen to Sam scream his head off, or listen to Ben cry, "Roni? Roni?" because he's starving and I've been promising to make him macaroni for the last hour. I've been wishing for a day back in the hospital where I only have to take care of Sam and me. Here I've got laundry and Ben and dishes and baths for both boys... Sigh.

And then there's the guilt. The other night Ben had a poopy diaper and I didn't notice till he walked up to me like he'd been riding a horse for the past 2 days. Poor little man. His little bum was all red and sore and it was all my fault. How could I have not noticed? (Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Sam needs his diaper changed every 20 minutes and somehow I thought Ben's must have been changed in there somewhere, but that excuse is just not good enough.) I don't know. All I know is it is killing me to have to divide my attention. And poor little Sam. Ben never had to cry like Sam does. Samuel has to wait much longer for things than Benjamin ever did. I feel terrible when I have to leave him screaming in his swing while I try to comfort Ben who has fallen off of the coffee table, which is tricky because I can't even pick him up because of this ding danged c-section. Of course, all that guilt adds up till finally I can't stand it and I pick up Benjamin and cuddle him for a bit so that I can feel guilty about not following doctors orders.

I know it sounds like I'm complaining, but I'm not really. All I have to do is think of my lunatic Mom and her four children ages 3 and under and I feel better about my lot. Really all I want to do is get this down in writing so I can look back and remember what my first weeks with Sam were like. To all of you it must sound like I'm not enjoying it, but actually I am. There's something so amazing about nurturing a new life that is completely dependent on you. It just feels right that it should be totally draining and all consuming. I don't think there is any other time of life where a parent's sacrifice is so evident. I know there will be many more sacrifices and sleepless nights, but somehow these first few weeks stand out. I think it has to do with being so completely wrapped up and focused on just getting through each feeding, each diaper change, each day, each night... Till suddenly you look up and your baby is sleeping through the night and sitting up and eating peas and walking and saying things like, "I love you." I know there will be a day when I will wish I could travel back in time to right now and nurse my baby in the middle of the night. I already wish that with Ben every now and then. (Sometimes I wonder if I'm just overly sentimental or an actual raving lunatic... ???)

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