Well, it's been two months since the birth of my daughter and I've already given up on the anti-germ crusade. Yep. I'm over it. I confess. The binkie just goes right back in the mouth. Why? Because after two months of chasing binkies in a race to the floor twenty times a day, I realized something. Here I am, an educated woman. I have survived a rigorous master's program while being pregnant AND moving my whole life to a new city. I have traveled two and from China, having successfully navigated my way through Beijing. I spent the first four years of my adult life in DC without a net. And yet a loose binkie careening perilously to the floor gives me a panic attack. It's ridiculous. I have literally done yoga moves and juggling stunts to keep a piece of plastic with a rubber nipple on it from getting away from me. At one point I was actually getting really good at catching them in my cleavage and was pretty proud of that trick but now I just summon the "Five Second Rule" and pop that puppy right back in. The way I see it, I can't raise her in a bubble and the hard truth of life is that binkies get dirty and sometimes we just have to suck it up.
As a first time mom, of course I wanted to be perfect and do everything right. But at this two month marker I'm finding myself already out of the honeymoon stage. Dog hair covered binkies are not my only infraction. In the morning, when I hear her stirring, instead of getting her up, changing her and feeding her right way, I pop that binkie back in and go back to bed for as long as I can before she stirs again. I'll do this at least two or three times before I finally give in and get her up. Early morning feedings are no longer the bonding experience they once were. Now, I gamble to see how many more minutes of sleep I can win.
The other day Mariella was having one of her, what I've come to affectionately refer to as "Pea-Under-the-Mattress Days." Pea Days are rough because it usually means that her highness is unsatisfied with EVERYTHING. She cries in her swing. She cries in her bouncy chair. She screams in her car seat and she squalls in her stroller. She cries if she's on her back and she hyperventilates if she's on her stomach. She's pissed if she has a wet diaper and she's pissed if I try to change it. She doesn't want to take a nap but she's miserable if she's awake. Pea Days usually mean I spend the day wrestling a badger and getting absolutely nothing else done.
Chris always knows when a Pea Day has hit, too, as soon as he comes through the door at the end of the day. There we are, both of us exhausted from the struggle, recovering from the trauma on the couch. I'm usually still in my pajamas with my greasy hair tied in a knot on my head. I'm covered in dried spots of spit up, as is she, and we're surrounded by rolled up dirty diapers, toys she has rejected, empty bottles and other random pieces of fallout.
Well, as I said, the other day was a Pea Day and like all the others, it had the makings of a real tragedy. But I had had my fill of Pea Days for the week and my chore list was piling up. There is a bed in the spare room upstairs I had been trying to put together and make up for weeks. I just could never get there. So, on this day I decided the bed was getting made and the spare room was going to get put together come hell or high water. Well hell came. I put Mariella down in her bouncy chair and grabbed the fitted sheet. In no time she was gearing up. And she can go from 0 to 60 in two seconds. But I was impervious. I put the four corners down and peacefully grabbed the other sheet, then a pillow case, then the other and put that bed together slowly and deliberately.
By the time the comforter was going on she was screaming with such rage that if she'd had a knife I think she would have murdered me in cold blood. But the bed was made and my impenetrable nerves survived her psychotic episode. And she survived too. She didn't break. At one point I thought she might pull a Rumplestiltskin and split in two right down the middle but she didn't. Her red face slowly faded back to a normal flesh color and we moved on with the rest of our day. I know. I'm a heartless evil woman but you know what? There might be a pea under the mattress but at least the bed will be made.
Pea Days can be excruciating and I'm not just guilty of letting her cry from time to time. I'm also guilty of drowning her out. Yes. It's true. When we're in the car and she's at top gear, tearing towards apoplexy, I get to a point where I either need to find calm or drive the car into a tree. So, I simply turn the music up and sing loudly until we get to a place where I can bring her back down to zero. It's not a nice thing to do and I know that but if both of us are racing towards madness, one of us has to stay on the road.
When we are safe inside the confines of our home, it is much easier to deal with a child who appears to have the ability to literally cry herself to death if you let her. Like my dog Mandie who would eat until her stomach exploded if she found herself with a full bag of dog food and no human in sight for miles, Mariella would literally scream until her head blew up. I know because I've tried the "let her cry herself to sleep" bit. It doesn't work. Death would come before sleep. So, when we're home and Mariella gets her diaper in a bunch, I have discovered a shameful trick to buy myself a half an hour of peace and productivity. I plop her in front of the TV. Now, before you judge me as the worst mother ever, hear me out. I had visions of grandeur once. I thought I would never be one of those moms who used the television as a babysitter. In fact, I had vowed to make TV obsolete for the most part. I figured I would find much more educational and enlightening ways to entertain my children.
Well, here is a lesson in pragmatism, friends. If the junkie needs a fix, at least you can supply them with a clean needle. And our clean needle is "Wonder Pets." This animated program, found on Nick Jr. is designed for preschoolers but Mariella LOVES it. She can't get enough. It has motion, colors, objects, animals, shapes, culture, music..... it has it all and it drives her wild. So for 30 minutes everyday she watches Wonder Pets and I get to take a shower. It's a trade off and the way I see it, since she's only two months old and already digging a show for four year olds, by the time she's in kindergarten she'll be watching the six o' clock news.
So, these are my confessions. Am I the mom I always thought I would be? Not even close. But I'm doing the best I can at the hardest job on the planet and at the end of the day, she's still breathing, all of her limbs are in tact and her head is facing the appropriate direction. It's one day at a time. Let the binkie hit the floor. Embrace the pea under the mattress. Sing through the anguish. Let the Wonder Pets save the day. And forgive the transgressions as any good mother would.
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