A day in the life with two

It was 4am.

I fed the baby, changed him, then spent an hour resettling him.

I got back to bed at 5.30am.

Getting back to sleep didn’t happen.

My husband was getting ready for work.

My toddler woke.

I fed her breakfast, changed her, and spent half an hour settling a tantrum.

Then I unloaded the dishwasher, made the beds and put a load of washing on.

I started reading her a book.

The baby woke.

I stopped reading, had to diffuse a tantrum while feeding a baby and forgot about eating my breakfast.

I fed him for nearly an hour.

I parented my toddler from afar while her emotions crashed into me.

I felt the brunt of them, but managed to regulate mine. Somehow.

My baby fell asleep feeding, so I tried to put him in his cot.

My toddler followed me.

I closed the door, leaving her on the other side.

She made her presence known anyway.

That woke him.

We repeated the cycle in the baby’s bedroom.

“We” managed to get him down this time.

I carried my toddler to the living room, begging her to stay quiet.

I offered her morning tea.

She didn’t like what I made.

I read her three books.

She finally fell asleep.

It was noon.

I hung out the washing, got meat out for dinner, called my husband about something which seemed important.

And the baby woke.

And he was fussy.

So we paced the hallway. Over and over.

My toddler woke.

I tended to them both. Her at my knees demanding and him at my hip crying.

I fed them both, somehow.

I then took them outside.

We sat under a tree.

We watched the leaves.

I explained the colours.

This is all that worked.

And I’d tried everything.

My husband came home.

Somehow it was 5pm.

How was it that late?

I cooked dinner.

He bathed them.

We ate dinner.

We consumed tears.

The baby fell asleep.

My husband attempted the toddler’s bedtime.

I dealt with the mess of the day.

The baby woke again.

It was 9pm.

I fed and resettled him.

Finally they were both asleep.

It was 10.30pm.

I still hadn’t showered.

Or hung the washing out.

Or eaten enough.

Or lots of things actually.

But I made it.

For the next few hours at least.

Maybe until tomorrow.

And tomorrow I’ll try again.

Because that’s what mothers do.