Can I Help You? Or, Lessons in Patience

Yesterday the following conversation happened.

Ainsley:  Can I help you?
Mama:  Yes.  You can be helpful by being quiet and not touching anything.
Ainsley:  That's not what I want!

Now, to be honest, we had just put down a fussy baby, who was sleeping just ten feet away from where I was furiously changing bedding due to a potty accident by our potty training two year old.  It was 8:30 pm, I was trying to get the kids into jammies, into our bed to read books, ignore the occasional whimpers of terror coming from the cranky, almost asleep baby, and had remembered that our two year old had wet our bed while napping that afternoon.  I just needed to change the bedding quickly, read three books, tuck them into bed, and I was free.

But she wanted to help.  Her help means it would have taken twice, maybe three times as long.  It would involve her crying and whining because she can't get the sheets on the deep pocketed mattress or crying because she couldn't get the pillow case on or off the pillow.  There's very little about changing the bedding on a king-sized bed that a five year old can actually do by herself.  And everything she struggles with involves tears and whines.

No.  Be quiet and don't touch anything.

And now I look back and think how horrible of me to say those things.  She just wants to help.

Perhaps if she was an only child, she could have helped.  If she were an only child, there wouldn't have been urine on the bed or a cry-it-out situation happening around the corner.  Then she could have helped and it wouldn't have been a big deal.

But as it is, we have three children.  Three, SMALL, children who are essentially incapable of doing ANYTHING on their own.  It wasn't such a big deal when there was only one.  It became a bit more stressful after two, neglecting myself completely to care for their every need, want, and inkling.

But then there were three.

We're nine months in to having three now.  It's slowly been eating at my patience.  If I could just get one decent night's sleep I might be able to recharge, but I haven't slept in nearly a year.  Couple that with the fact that they need me to do EVERYTHING for them, and I'm just getting tired.

I just need them to go to sleep.  I need them to actually sleep when I send them to sleep.  I need to be rested enough that I can work on my grading after they go to sleep.  As it is, I pass out in exhaustion the moment they actually go to sleep [or, stop crying, because "sleep" and "they finally stopped crying" is pretty much the same thing].

And so, I must vent.  I don't remember the last time I had a moment to myself.  If I beg my husband for some time, I use it to correct papers or prepare for class.

That's what I do with my "moments to myself."

Someone on Facebook shared some article about 2 year olds the other day.  I only read the title of the article and I was immediately ticked off.  The title said something like "What your two-year old needs is you."  I couldn't even open the article after that start.  I assume it's about tantruming two year olds (of which I am in the THICK OF) and how to stop their tantrums by giving them more of yourself.

I'VE NOTHING LEFT TO GIVE, PEOPLE.  I gave 50% of my entire being to Ainsley.  I gave the other 50% to Durham and I'm now taking years off my life in attempting to be patient with Wrenn.

And I love them so much, I will continue to do it, but I just wanted everyone to know that my soul is being sucked out of me at a rate that will involve my early death.

So, if you'd like to see me before I die, you've better hurry up.

Is noon too early to drink?

Where was I going with this?  Oh yeah, she wanted to help.

Anyway, now I have 40 essays to grade, 80 Prezi projects, 20 movie reviews, and a bad parenting choice to make up for.  What shall we do?  Make a gingerbread house.  And I'll let her (and him) do everything themselves.  And then I'll feel like I'm not such a terrible parent.

Is parenthood just about making up for the mistakes that happened yesterday?  Because that seems to be our theme here.  

Anyway, we're going to make gingerbread houses and drink beer tonight.  That' just the best we can muster at the moment.

Wrenn is 9 months old

Feeding:  We still only have two teeth, so meals are mostly jarred, stage 3 baby foods.  She usually eats 1/2 to 2/3rds of a jar followed by 4 oz of formula in a sippy cup.  We're down to only two bottles a day now, one at the afternoon nap and the other before bed at night.  She loves picking up Gerber puffs, peas, and other very soft foods to feed herself.  

Sleeping:  Has. Been. Wretched.  I'm entirely convinced that A)  she misses me while I work and therefore wants and deserves to be held all night long and B) is constantly in too much pain from teething and C) is manipulating the system to make sure I never sleep in my bed again.  Ugh.  Needless to say, we haven't moved the recliner out of her room yet.  It's always made up with a pillow and blanket, ready for two girls to sleep the night away together.

Diapers:  Still in size 3.  Wrenn has proven to be the most difficult to diaper.  She is such a fighter and a roller that keeping her still and safe on the changing table is becoming a challenge.  What a wiggler she is!

Clothes:  Anywhere between 9 months and 18 months.  Not much change in size from the last couple months.  Now that Wrenn is standing more, we've had to start wearing shoes.  Her feet are smaller than Ainsley’s were when Ainsley started wearing shoes, so Wrenn has gotten a few new ones in size 2.    

Disposition:  We've definitely moved out of the smiley, happy phase to an independent, strong-willed phase.  She's the most wiggly, strongest fighter, most determined of the bunch.  

Places:  Goodness, this girl has been to football games, grocery stores, libraries, grandparents' houses, pumpkin farms, trick or treating.  She's a go-getter.

Fun Facts:  She's begun crawling with her stomach off the ground now.  She can clap and wave bye-bye.  She says ma-ma, da-da, and loves to click her tongue at people.  She likes to play peekaboo and can walk along furniture.  She's not interested in her jumper anymore and fights with her brother over who gets to hold the iPod.  I've found her twice stuck head first in the toy basket attempting to grab the toy of her choosing.  She loves to make out with the baby in the mirror, open drawers and cabinets, root through the refrigerator and attempt to dive head first down the stairs every time the gate opens.  She's a curious little monkey!