That's What Mothers Do

It's 6am. Without turning on any lights, I put the empty bottle on top of my dresser and crawl back into bed, hoping against hope that last 4oz. will hold Josiah until 8:30. I turn my heating pad on. My upper back has been killing me. The Aleve I took before bed never seemed to kick in. The back massage Keith gave me last night turned out to be useless, though I won't tell him that because it felt good at the time! The heating pad is all I have left to try. Very quickly after lying down, I decide that I'll never get comfortable with this stuffy nose. After blowing my nose about three times I'm much less congested. I crawl back into bed again. Thankfully Josiah fell back to sleep, and so did I!

7:36am. I hear him, rolling around in his crib and cooing from behind the closed door to the nursery. My back still hurts, but I can't ignore the sweet little sounds he's making no matter how badly I want just five more minutes of rest. So much for 8:30. I roll out of bed. Slowly and quietly I go into the nursery to give him his pacifier. It'll never work. He's wide awake and the sun is illuminating his room just enough that there's no way he's going back to sleep. I can dream though. Back to bed I go to lay down on that heating pad again. "God, my back hurts" I say, just talking to God, telling him what's going on with me and my body, as if he doesn't already know.

It's all for naught. Josiah is still cooing up a storm in there. I go back into the nursery to put the pacifier back in his mouth again, and I turn his "fish light" on, which is actually just one of those Fisher Price aquariums that hang from the crib rail. I go back into my bedroom, but not to get back into bed and pretend like I can hold this day off any longer. Rather, turning the heating pad off, I begin to make my bed. Thus starts my day.

After making my bed, next it's time to change Josiah's diaper. Maggie is trotting around the upstairs, which usually means Isaac is up, even when I can't hear him. Dogs are like that. So I set Isaac's "changing table" up on my bed. He's got severe diaper rash, again, so instead of wipes I have to dampen a washcloth to clean him up, which for some reason is easier on his bum. I sneeze a few times so I have to blow my nose a few more times. I am starting to hear Isaac now. I open his door and sure enough, there he is happily sitting up in his crib giving me a big, beautiful smile. "Good morning!" I say, as I stroke his hair and his soft cheeks. Then it's time to open his blinds and get him out of his crib; that is, unless he wants to play the game where I put his siderail down and he puts it back up again, saying "up" over and over.

This morning, however, he was happy to get out of his crib right away because he'd already pooped in his diaper, which, as one might imagine, is extremely uncomfortable when one has open sores on their bum. So I change his diaper, wash my hands, and start heading down the steps. After he fell down the steps and hit his head on the floor really hard yesterday, I make sure that I'm in front of Isaac going down, and that he's holding onto the rail, as he not only goes down the stairs forward now like a big boy, but has to carry his blanket down with him too.

When we get to the bottom, I have to put Josiah in the bouncie seat. I often worry that I leave Josiah alone too often, but I haven't figured out a way to take care of Maggie and Isaac's every need with him in my arms all of the time, and probably never will. This guilt I simply must bear. He won't be a little baby forever. He will crawl someday, sooner rather than later I'm sure.

I let Maggie outside. While I'm putting food in her bowl Isaac gets a Milkbone out for her. Maggie comes back in & I can start Isaac's breakfast and Josiah's bottle. Isaac sees the yogurt on the table where he sits and starts fussing for it. I put one of the new bibs with pockets on it to catch food that I just bought yesterday on him and put him in his booster seat. I may as well have skipped the bib because he still got yogurt all over himself. I get his sippy of milk ready, his vitamin, and split his english muffin to put in the toaster. Normally I only toast half of it, but this morning I figured I'd eat the other half to save time on making my own separate breakfast. As the english muffin is toasting, I make Josiah's bottle. Then it's margarine, grape jam, and I'm finally ready to sit down.

First things first, Josiah gets 2mL Zantac for his reflux. He spits most of it out. Oh well. Then his bottle, which, even though he hasn't eaten for 2 1/2 - 3 hours, he immediately proceeds to push out of his mouth with his tongue. I look up at Isaac who has "finished" his yogurt already, but that just means there isn't any left in the container. Most of it is in a pool on the table and on his new waterproof bib, and the rest is smeared all over his hands, face, sleeves, and sides of his booster seat. Now he figures he'll try a bite of his english muffin.

Josiah has never been easy to feed. Even when I nursed him he would grunt and arch his back, cry and fuss. This morning was no different. So while my back is aching, I'm sitting in a chair without arm rests at the kitchen table, trying to keep Josiah's arms down while keeping the bottle in his mouth, while he's arching his back and grunting because I guess it hurts. All the while, Isaac is sort of pushing his empty plate around the table with his sippy on top. Must've gotten too close to the edge. Both plate and sippy wind up on the floor. This upsets Isaac greatly. Now, while holding Josiah, I must pick the plate up off of the floor, put it on the counter so as to prevent such an incident from repeating itself, and give him his sippy back.

At last, Isaac is happy again, Josiah is drinking his bottle easily now, and my back is still hurting me as I wonder if I'll get to drink my tea before it gets cold. What makes it all worthwhile? I don't know. Maybe it's that I got to praise and reward Isaac like three times just this morning for peeing on the potty! Maybe it's seeing my JoZo's face light up when I get him out of his crib after a nap. Maybe it's all three of us lying on our tummies on the floor reading a book together. Somehow these precious little moments more than make up for how chaotic a mother's day, everyday, can be (as well as her sore back).