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Today was a hard day.
With both babies down with a cold, the last few nights have consisted of multiple wake ups, tears (both mine and theirs), Tylenol, bum patting, and periods of extreme exhaustion.
Every time my toddler cries out, I want to scream too.
When my baby starts whimpering, I want to pull the blankets up over my head.
But I don't. I tug the blankets off my warm body, and I get out of bed. I make my way down the hall to my toddler's room or to the crib in the corner and provide comfort any way I can. Once they're settled, I drag my feet back to my bed, climb back in, and glance at the clock. Some nights I see every hour displayed on that clock.
In an effort to wear them out, and get away from the monotonous drone of Paw Patrol on the TV, we headed outside. I strapped the baby to my chest in a carrier, and helped my toddler pull her boots on. Trying to be productive, I began scooping up months' old dog poop while my toddler explored the yard.
Each time I'd bend over to scoop up a little pile of petrified dog waste, my baby would dip forward too, kick his legs, and let out a little grunt.
Maybe if I wear him on my back instead, he'll be more comfortable, I thought.
I crouched down to my knees, carefully unbuckled him, and began the not-so-impressive juggling act of trying to place the baby on my back.
As I was trying to gently swing him onto my back, he tipped out of the carrier and faceplanted on the grass. Panicked, I picked him up and assessed the damage. Besides a few tears and a couple peices of grass and dirt stuck to his face, he seemed relatively OK. However, my mom guilt was coming in strong.
To placate him (and myself), we sat down on a patio chair and I nursed him. Thankfully my toddler played peacefully in her portable sandbox, and all was good -- for the moment.
Once he finished eating we moved around to the front of the house. When we got there, my toddler excitedly let out a little "squeeee!" and ran over to her strider bike. She pulled it up right and mounted it while shouting "Mom! I need your help! Come grab me."
With already full hands, I headed her way just as she toppled over sideways, banging her knee and pinning her leg beneath her. The scream that tore from her lungs is still ringing in my ears. With one kid tucked under each arm, we headed back inside. Back to the TV, and back to the same old routine.
Today was a hard day.