We are having quite a time over here in the Sunny Household right now.
Quite. A. Time.
First, let's start with the literal break. Nix's sweet little leg. He had just started up the stairs, on the first step above the landing. He realized he had forgotten to flip the hall light on and off 20 times before heading up, so he turned to come back down to complete the important the task. But he slipped off the stair and fell five inches onto the landing.
Managing, in the process, to fracture both the tibia and fibula in his right leg.
After spending a delightful evening at urgent care getting x-rays and a splint, then calling around for a couple of hours the next morning to find an orthopedist who could cast the leg of a 19-month-old, then taking him to Seattle Children's to finally get said cast.... now we will enjoy the four weeks of a completely immobile and uncomfortable, if still adorably sweet, Nix. He is a trooper, but sleeping is a challenge (for all of us, in consequence), as well as trying to keep him occupied during the day without plugging him into the television for 12 straight hours. And it is truly heartbreaking when his earnest, pleading face looks up at you and he grabs at his cast, "asking" you to please take it off. Because he's too young to understand why it's there and when it'll be gone.
I don't mean to complain.
But waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!
I do feel like I have reached a rite of passage as a Mother of Boys, though. Our first broken bone in the family. I didn't pass out, so that's saying something.
Now the emotional break. Namely: mine.
In addition to dealing with Nix's leg, which I realize is a relatively minor inconvenience, there are a few other things conspiring to deepen the divide between me and my sanity.
1) I am in the grips of swirling, irrational pregnancy hormones.
2) Bean is in the grips of the More-Terrible-Than-The-Twos Threes.
3) I have active twin 1.5 year olds.
4) HOLIDAYS!
On the bright side, I no longer live with the constant feeling that I could barf at any moment. My stomach is still uneasy, and food is overall unappetizing. Even my beloved chocolate sits uneaten on the shelf. (If only I could bottle that feeling for post-pregnancy, right?) But it's an improvement. What remains is the lethargy, a short fuse, and wild swings of emotions. I cried three times during a recent episode of Glee, and Bean's impressive temper tantrums are matched only by my own. Let's just say I have less a "pregnancy glow" and more a "pregnancy growl."
Add to my inability to be calm and stable, the onset of the "Harrowing Threes" or whatever you want to call it. I have read on countless blogs, other mamas lamenting how three is a much more difficult age than two.
Y-E-S.
I guess I had to pay my dues. Bean was a ridiculously easy toddler. And he still is a great kid, most of the time. At preschool and his gym class, he intently listens to the teachers and follows all directions enthusiastically. He is respectful of the other kids and loves to do artwork. He is creative and thoughtful and his mind is absorbing new ideas like a sponge. He loves to cuddle.
But then... things turn bad. They turn bad quickly, and they turn bad severely.
I'll spare the details, other than to say it involves convulsing, crying, screaming, and possibly throwing a toy, if one is within reach.
And Bean gets pretty worked up too.
I realize what I lack, other than the fair amount of patience that I had when I wasn't gestating, is a plan. A script. Since the same scenarios play over and over, I need to know in advance how to handle it. That should keep me calm, at the very least. I'm working on that plan right now, wish me luck. In the meantime, thank goodness my parents are nearby.
Meanwhile, the twins. They are so hilarious, adorable, energetic, curious, and enterprising. Which absolutely wears me out. I ran into a mom with twin boys a few years older than the twins. She told me that this age was the hardest for her. Another twin mama with 6-year-olds told me the first year of mobility was the most difficult for her.
I am hoping that's true.
They are fabulous boys, really. I adore them to pieces and find so much to love about this age. And I have not forgotten how incredibly blessed I was to deliver them full-term without any health problems, I regularly thank God for that. But they are exhausting right now. They find so much more trouble to get into than Bean ever did at this age, and they want to be involved in everything we do. The only thing harder, I imagine, would be having three of them.
Add in holiday stress... getting the tree up (when? how?)... buying presents (when? how?)... mailing cards (when? how?)... well, despite the fact that I absolutely love Christmas, and I'm one of the few people who doesn't mind seeing the displays go up at Target in October, I'm feeling rather grumpy about the whole deal this year.
But enough of my complaining. You can see why I haven't posted in a while, and you're welcome! Let's move on to something more fun that discussing the chaos that is my life at the moment. Catching up on pictures of everything from a visit to the Museum of Flight, a soggy trip to the pumpkin patch (when my camera battery died after 5 minutes), playing at preschool, Thanksgiving, and general tomfoolery. Enjoy!
