A year of mothering two.

 

For a year now, I've been a mother of two. This year has been incredibly humbling, changing me quite a bit. I knew having two little ones would be hard. I knew I'd have moments of feeling overwhelmed and tired and eager for bedtime. But I'm not sure I realized how much it would challenge my image of myself.

Before having kids (and even once I "only" had Meredith) I had some pretty strong beliefs about myself and about where my worth came from. I wouldn't necessarily say those things out loud if someone asked me. No, I knew the right answers to those questions. I knew the answers shouldn't have anything to do with having a tidy house, getting places on time and showering regularly. But my reality spoke something different. The way I spent my time suggested otherwise.

Cleaning our home, staying on top of the laundry, getting out and looking somewhat presentable is how I felt good about myself. I like a clean house. Messiness leaves me feeling anxious. Sticky floors and piles of laundry leave me feeling lazy. Being unshowered and in yoga pants leaves me feeling like a classic stay at home mom that could never cut it if she had to be prepped, ready and looking professional by 7 am everyday. 

And then, I had my second baby. It's been a gradual process for me. The first couple of months with two were really not so bad. I had lots of family help and Mattias was such an easy baby. But then, he started to be awake more and then he became mobile and now he lives for pulling books off shelves, dumping out boxes of crayons and emptying my spice rack. Gradually over the course of the year, the things I was looking to for value and some sign of a day's productivity simply weren't there.

I had a moment just a few weeks ago- I was following one little mess-maker, cleaning up as she went, only to be followed my another little mess-maker who was busy undoing what I had just fixed. As I did that it hit me. I am going to be doing this for this rest of my life if I don't stop it. I am going to look back and see that I wasted so much time and energy trying to keep my house clean. And for what? Last week i read this post by Jolie and in it she said, "That may mean a little laundry piles up some days, or the bookshelves don't get dusted. But that really what makes the world go round? Dusted bookshelves?" Of course not! And yet that is one of the hardest things for me to let go of. My job right now is raising my children. Not dusting the shelves.

It's funny because I recently re-read this post of mine from a couple years ago. I'm still struggling against myself. I was so sure then that I had figured it out and yet here I am still at it. I'm sure in another few years I will read this again and think the same. My hope is that there is forward progress. Perfection is unrealistic, but growth is what I'm holding onto.

I just read the most amazing book, Bread and Wine by Shauna Niequist. Calling it transformative feels like the silliest thing, but it really is true. She talks about how opening the doors to our home isn't a chance for us to perform a song and dance on the stage that we call home, but instead it is an act of love. I'm holding onto that as we open our home to friends and even as I share our home with my kids each day. This house isn't here for me to tirelessly clean. It has been entrusted to me for raising my babies. For dance parties in the kitchen. For train tracks on a linty rug.

Over the weekend we had come friends over for a cookout. I'm usually a hot mess bursting with anxiety before these types of things. But this time, with Shauna Niequist's words freshly in my mind, I breathed easier. I was making guacamole, listening to music while the kids were playing. Our friends were due to arrive soon and I still needed to shower. A song came on and Meredith declared, "We need to dance!" And so we did. Tomato juice dripping down my arms, Mattias scattering bottles of spices across the kitchen, Meredith and I waving our arms, shaking our bums to some music. Growth. Slow and steady and easily overlooked by outsiders. But to me, that was a huge moment of growth.

So this year of mothering two has been hard. I thought I would handle the chaos a little better. I thought it'd be itching for hundreds (or one or two) more babies by now. I thought I would still be able to have it all together. It's been painful (and continues to be) as I learn to give myself grace and let go of what I think makes me a valuable mother and wife, but I am really grateful I am learning it.

And I'm sure I'll be learning and relearning this lesson for a very long time.

Happy Birthday, Mattias!

Happy birthday, sweet boy!
A year old! It hardly seems possible and yet, you are seeming so big lately that it's not altogether impossible to believe.

The other day I was watching you play while we were at our playgroup. All the kids were inside and I was letting you play in the backyard as I watched from the doorway. You contentedly made your way around the yard, discovering toys and dirt piles, eventually settling yourself into the sand box. You scooped and dug and ran your hands through it. As I watched you, I was struck by how thankful I am for you. God knew exactly what he was doing when he gave you to us. You are the perfect fit.

When I reflect back on this year, that is what stands out to me the most. You were our missing piece. Life feels so full and so happy with you. More tight hugs around the neck, more smiles, more games of catch, more pat-pat-pats of crawling hands and feet.

Mattias, I am thankful to be your mommy and I cannot wait to watch you grow this next year. My prediction is that you'll continue to be easy going, but also keep us on our toes with your energy and physicality.

We love you.

Snapshots from our day.

This was meant to be a photo an hour post, but of course my camera died in the late morning while we were out and then I kept forgetting to use in later in the day. Regardless, this gives a pretty good glimpse into a typical day for us lately. This summer, more than usual, I have enjoyed quiet days at home just me and the kids. We will venture out for a bit to the park or for a quick errand, but I try to limit those outings to once a day and if I have multiple things to do, combine it into one outing. At least for this season, I am learning that the less we do, the happier I am. I don't feel as frazzled rushing to get the kids out the door, I don't stress about car naps and losing any chance of some time to myself in the afternoon. Also, finally having a nap schedule for Mattias is great. For his morning nap, I make a concerted effort to spend some quality time with Meredith. This usually involves a puzzle, coloring, blocks or trains. It's amazing what a difference it makes to spend just a fifteen or twenty minutes of uninterrupted time with her. This day was special because we had a date night and went into San Francisco for a concert. Gosh, if I could see live music every night of my life, that would heaven.

As early rising baby means I always go straight to make coffee.

After some quiet time with just Mattias, Meredith rises always ready for breakfast and a show.

Saving seeds from my favorite tomatoes this season.

A little playing before nap time.

Quality time with my girl.

After naps we finish getting ready and head out to try a new park and get some groceries.

Meredith asks to get flowers every time we go to Trader Joe's. It's so fun watching her pick them out and I love the cheeriness of fresh flowers on our table.

Post-lunch playing before afternoon naps.

Sweet relief. This day I attempted a nap for myself, but thanks to our gardener couldn't fall asleep. It worked out for the best, though, because I got some iced coffee and a long conversation on the phone with my bestie.

Always slow to wake and often a little bit grumpy.

Snack time.

Squirrel cheeks!

If you can't find Meredith, she's most often in my closet picking out fancy shoes.

Heading to our Monday afternoon playgroup just around the corner.

After playgroup, we hurry home, make dinner and spend some fun time with dad.

11 months.

Mattias, you are 11 months now. Next month, you will be ONE YEAR OLD, which seems utterly impossible. Which is an utter cliche. But, it's true. When I look at you, even as you stand and babble and finally consider drinking from a sippy cup, I see my tiny (well, not so tiny) newborn.

At 11 months, you are so much fun. Actually, you sometimes feel very exhausting and more than a little bit violent. My legs are covered in bruises from your biting. My arms have a couple too, as well as several scratch marks. My head is almost always recovering from vicious attempts at pulling out all my hair. It's intense. But at 11 months, I can forgive it.

Because you really are a lot of fun. This month you've learned to clap. No one ever in the history of ever has been more proud of an accomplishment. Your eyes grow hugely wide and your smile overtakes your whole face as you repeatedly slap your soft, chubby hands together. You've just learned to say "Mama" and while your proudest accomplishment is clapping, that one is mine. You've said "Dada" for months now, but not until last week did you finally respond to my incessant, "Mama Mama Mama?"-ing.

You entertain yourself so well. So much better than your sister, which I daresay is common among second children. You are left to fend for yourself much more than she ever was. You love removing all the books from shelves, blocks from the shape sorter and have recently discovered the thrill of completely unrolling the toilet paper roll. And speaking of the bathroom, your life's mission is to splash around in the toilet bowl. Mostly, we've been successful at thwarting your efforts.

One of my favorite things about you right now is your love of trains and cars and trucks because it so perfectly gender stereotypical. Most of the these toys I've had since your sister was a baby (in the interest of not gender stereotyping her) and yet you've taken to them in a way she didn't until much later. You grab the back of a truck, crawl around the house, driving it as you go. I really love it. You are also fascinated by any and all wheels. You sister's baby doll stroller, small wheels on matchbox cars and most especially the trash can wheels at the playground which I'm sure are coated several inches thick with grime and dog pee.

At the end of the day, biting and messes and refusal of sleep aside, you are just the sweetest boy. As I've said a million times, I could stare into your big blue eyes all day. You communicate so much love through your gaze. You smile generously and are happy sharing hugs with anyone. Mostly, though, you love hugging your sister. Sometimes the hugging turns to hair tugging, but usually you just seem perfectly happy to lean over and wrap your arms around her shoulders in a moment of sibling love.

Part of us wonders if you might be our last baby so I'm savoring you. The moments when you aren't shoving sand in your mouth and waking up every hour of the night, I'm savoring them. The way you fall asleep in my arms after nursing, the way everything you find in the house fascinates you, the way you wrap your arms around the neck to cuddle, your chubby-cheeked baby smile, your soft skin, your scuffed and dirty knees and toes. I'm soaking it all up as best I can, knowing next month, when you are a one year old, it will be much harder for me to think of you as a brand new baby.

Vacation.

Sunday morning we leisurely loaded up the car and headed out for a few hours drive south to meet Chris's parents. They had flown out, along with Chris's brothers, to spend the week vacationing with us. A few days in and we're feeling a bit more relaxed and enjoying the slow pace of the country.