8 weeks

A Letter To My Sons

To my two precious, brilliant, sweet boys,

Shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!

You with the crying, and you with the non-stop chatter--enough! I am about to jump out of my skin.

If you weren't so sweet I'd ship you in a box to your grandmother for a few weeks.

Love,

Your Mother

I've never understood when people say that it gets better at 8 weeks. That hasn't been my experience either time. At 8 weeks I just feel so stressed and tired of dealing with the fussing and crying and constant neediness. I'm ready for the baby to just calm himself down. And maybe walk to the store to get me a cold drink, while he's at it. Enough with the drama already--the gas isn't that bad, every need is being met, so is all this crying really necessary? It's like a drop of water drip drip dripping into my brain pan.

Of course this time it's compounded by having a 3-year-old who is dealing with his feelings about a new sibling by erecting construction projects in our apartment. He ropes off all the hallways and doors with "construction tape" so he can work on his projects. So I can't go anywhere in the apartment without hopping over string or untying the sling to pass by. I understand that construction is his way of playing at having control over the situation, but it's really making me crazy. And then he talks about it incessantly. "Mama, I need to use your sling so I can put construction tape up over here so that NO ONE can go in to my job site because I'm the worker guy! I'm Bob the BuIlder! And this is my site and I have to do work here! So you and Daddy can't go in here ("here" being the kitchen) because you aren't worker guys!" Oy vey.

I wish I could find my journal from when El Chico was 8 weeks old. I clearly remember a moment in the kitchen. I'd just been walking him back and forth, back and forth, so he wouldn't cry. All of a sudden I saw with such clarity that I'd ruined my life and that I'd never get my body or brain or soul back from this sweet, beautiful little incubus I loved so desperately. I wish I could go back there and give myself a hug and say, "It's going to be OK. Someday you'll really enjoy being his mother, and you'll have yourself back, and your marriage won't actually fall apart. You didn't ruin your life--you made it better. Now is just the sucking part. Stop worrying about your body--you'll lose all the baby weight and then some--and eat some chocolate to make yourself feel better."

This time, I'm finding solace in a Carl Hiaasen novel and the promise of a Pilates mat class later today.

Comments

[Suzanne]

OMG. I have a 3 year old son who is a "worker GUY" as well. He is also the 'Telephone Guy", The Pizza Guy" the "Restaurant Guy" The Lawn Guy and my personal favorite "The Doctor Guy".
First time poster...if you would like to check out my version of living with a 3 yr old boy and a 7 month old girl who I have threatened to sell on EBAY this past weekend, click on my name.
Your blog is fantastic.

[Julie]

I agree, 8 weeks, definitely not the magic number. For me it was 12 weeks, baby-wise, but then I went back to work and entered a whole new world of panic.

Anyway, I hope things get better for you soon!

[Lisa V]

Yes, having been through it before definetly gives you some perspective on the bad days. It seems like yesterday I could have written that post, and my kids are 13,11,7 and 3.

[WannaBeMoom/Katie]

Ohmygod-- You should send El Chico to us and he could come to a build site and see how many people who don't belong there are actually there and how the 'worker' guys are often the 'talker-nonstop-on-the-nextel-guys' or 'i-have-to-run-to-another-job-guys' or the 'where's-my-check-for-this-unfinished-job-guys."

Send him over anytime, Mox-- we'll learn him up!

[Becki]

I'm impressed that you have insight that the whole "worker guy" scene is El Chico's way of asserting control. I tend to forget that my offspring might have motivations for doing things completely apart from their desire to make that vein in my temple throb furiously.

[Menita]

Wow, wish I could give you a hug. There are no magic numbers, are there? Evry time I think I've finally got it figured out...And what you wrote in that last paragraph, of your moment of clarity in the kitchen - and what you would say to yourself - thank you for writing that.
I'm hoping things get easier soon, at least before El Chico decides he really MUST have a wrecking ball to do the job properly.

[Linda]

I'm sorry it's so frustrating right now. That sucks.

[holly]

7 weeks down. I cried when I read that it gets better. Thank you for saying that it gets better...

*sniffle*

[Figlet]

Sorry but I'm laughing. Some day you can laugh at me.

[Kate W.]

A Carl Hiaasan book can save anyones sanity. I love that guy! Just think, in 20 years when El Chico is an Architectural engineer making millions with his creations, you will be laughing! Hope you got your cold drink and a little peace and quiet!

[Lisa C.]

With my son the magic age was 10 months. I hope, I hope, I hope the next one will be a much more bearable THREE months. I would really appreciate that. Universe, are you listening. [crickets chirping]

Crap.

[FishFace]

Have you tried Tim Dorsey? If you like Hiassan you'd probably enjoy Dorsey, also. His main character is a sociopath named Serge who is absolutely hysterical.