It’s a good thing I write these blog posts at night, because if I wrote them during the day they’d be much more depressing. Depressing and short.
Luckily I write them at this magic time of night after baby bedtime. I try not to make the whole day a march toward this time. But truly the evenings are amazing. Right now D is making dinner. I’m sipping a beer, sitting at my computer in the quiet house, writing…life is good!
But daytime is another story. Alone between these walls: me, non-talking babies, and the Internet. It’s the stuff of insanity. It’s feeding time, walk upstairs with a baby, change diaper, carry baby downstairs, feed babies, clean one baby, clean the other baby, clean highchairs, carry upstairs, change diaper, carry downstairs, it’s nap time, swaddle first baby, into crib, swaddle second, into crib, it’s feeding time, carry downstairs, etc. etc.
Meanwhile there are glowing screens everywhere. I can’t walk past my computer without checking email. Internet nonsense balloons out of proportion. There is no one around but Internet. A post appears on my Facebook feed, someone is anti-vaccinations and I can’t help myself from commenting. Facebook has its ugly talons in my brain. My heart is pounding, blood pressure rising.The future seems bleak.
The babies skip their morning nap. I sit with them in the play pen and begin to build towers out of cups and soft cubes. They are curious but hesitant to touch the tower I’ve built; they reach toward it lightly, but I’m suddenly petulant. I knock it down myself. I build more towers and knock them down. I throw foam cubes against the playpen walls, and that’s when I start to worry about myself. Also I narrate everything I do out loud constantly (for the babies). I don’t think I can stop even when I go outside anymore. My brain is turning like a dog who can’t lie down. Time for more chocolate!
Luckily I don’t blog during the day. And luckily, these things pass. The babies and I get out of the house and take a long walk, then come home and make some actual progress on projects. I talk to family on the phone. And then it’s bedtime, reliable like the weekend. I love these babies more than words. I know this time at home with them is limited, and I am so grateful for every minute. Still, stay-at-home parenting is not for the weak.