I’m not sure how to explain the amount of work I put into my days, but I saw just how taxing it is when my best friend Sarah was in town and stayed with us for a few days. Sarah’s a runner, training for her second marathon. At the end of the day when my kiddos were in bed (but not asleep yet!), Sarah collapsed on the couch and asked how I do it all the time.
A marathon runner, folks. Someone please explain how I’m hanging onto the last of my pregnancy weight!
Parents of newborns live in survival mode. We did, too, when our kids were in the neverending newborn stage for preemies. Then survival mode turned into just-get-the-shit-done mode. The sleep deprivation settled into a new normal, and while I wasn’t a basket case, I still called my days a success when my kids were taken care of despite me still in last night’s pajamas and unbrushed hair at the end of the day.
I hear some moms of multiples call it the two-year fog.
Finally, I feel like the fog is lifting. Toby, Eleanor and Callista will turn 2 years old this month, and it feels like life is getting more normal. I get up earlier than them most days and shower, get dressed, do my hair and think about breakfast without interruption. It’s about that time that they wake, so I still have a goal I’m working toward. I even bought new makeup and have a Christmas wishlist that caters to the idea of looking good, not just like I am surviving.
Someday, I’ll add exercise back into the mix, but I can’t wrap my head around working more when I honestly work toward getting the chance to relax while awake instead of only resting when it’s time for bed.
You really never know how much you’ve been through or how difficult it was or how exhausting things are until you’re over the hump.
Or when a marathon runner crashes on your couch and looks at you in awe.