When I was a mom of one, I nailed motherhood. I was calm and patient; my child was well-dressed; the car was pristine; the chores were completed; and there was very little shouting. But as a mom of two, I just can’t parent to the same standards. Everything is messier, louder, more rushed, less organized, and good enough, just has to be enough.
Going from one child to two has, without a doubt, been one of, if not the hardest, adjustments of my entire life. One plus one does not equal two in this scenario. As a mom to a 1.5-year-old, a 3.5-year-old, a 16-year-old stepson, and two needy cats, it sometimes feels like I care for a dozen creatures.
I thought I was prepared
When I was pregnant with my second, I wasn’t naive. I didn’t think two would be easy. From the moment I brought my second home from the hospital, and he met my first with a cry that brought my first to tears as well, it has been a pinball game of crying, clinging, grabbing, and fighting.
Each child seemingly has a different, urgent need that requires individual attention and the patience of someone who has had a full night’s sleep. They both want “mommy!” all the time, especially when the other wants me.
Courtesy of the author
Most days, I’ll be lucky to have a sip of water and finger brush my hair into a ponytail before the madness ensues. Once spotted, I’m bum-rushed as they joust for a prime spot on my lap or in my arms. Even with one on each leg with my legs spread as wide as they possibly can, they are still fighting over me, while likely trying to bat each other away. At 40 and 30 pounds each, holding both for more than a moment is back-breaking.
Why is parenting 2 kids so hard?
Countless times since becoming a parent of two, I’ve wondered why I’m not better at this. I’ve always excelled at what I put my energy toward, but this has absolutely shattered me. Most of the time, I’m able to rescue myself from the rabbit hole of feeling like a failure by reminding myself that it feels hard because it IS hard.
Adding a child when you already have one changes every dynamic in your life, including your relationship with your first child, and adds a whole new dynamic: your children’s relationship with each other.
Corners are cut, patience and sleep are limited, and the breaks you used to have when your partner had the other child no longer exist. Oh, did I forget to mention my partner? There’s hardly any time for him. That relationship, the one that is most important in keeping everything afloat, is tested to the absolute limits.
I’m finding joy in the chaos
As I write this, both kids are at day care. It’s my one day a week without them (if they haven’t contracted the latest day care bug), and I’m surrounded by chaos.
There’s a tent in front of me and a play mop on top of what was once our living room table, now a receptacle for apple cores, half-eaten bananas, board books, sippy cups, tissues (some used), and a rotating selection of kitchen utensils.
Amid all the clutter, I see the literal and figurative crumb trails my boys have left: crackers and playdough ground into the carpet, a red fire engine toy on the armchair of the sofa, a wooden spoon deposited in boots as one exited the front door that morning.
Despite the messy, loud, hectic life I now have, I can’t wait to pick them up from day care, even though I know it will be pandemonium from the moment they see me.
