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Please follow us over to the new blog:
The archives have been copied over there, so if you’re just joining us, you won’t miss a thing.
Tornado Eirinn is going to be replaced with a younger, more interesting version.
The blog, that is. The kid will soon be complemented with a younger, equally interesting version.
The T.E. blog has served its purpose well. I’ve had a place to brag and vent and enquire about all things Eirinn, which is exactly what it was designed to do. But in 3 short months (short, short months) we will have a new blessing in our home. And I will, naturally, want to brag and vent and enquire about all things New Baby. Technically, I don’t think anyone would object to me doing that here but, being certifiably A.R. (anal retentive), I have a problem relaying New Baby stories on a blog named after Eirinn. I just don’t think it’s fair to New Baby stories.
So I have a new blog in the works. It’s going to be very similar to Tornado Eirinn in that the meat of the content will be my day-to-day adventures in parenting. But the difference will be that I will have more freedom with the posts. I will be writing about Eirinn, New Baby, Bosco, and also some totally un-parenting related quips. Occasionally I have something interesting to say that doesn’t involve tantrums, milestones or poopy diapers. Or peeing on the floor in front of the potty while reading a book about using the potty after being asked ten times if she had to pee and even if she doesn’t have to pee, could she please sit on the potty just in case. But I digress.
Anyway, this is just a warning to my
legions of fans, couple of readers, mom that starting later this week, all of the Tornado Eirinn content will be moved to the new blog, which is called My Tornado Alley. I will keep Tornado Eirinn open with a link to the new blog, just in case you forget.
We have spent hours on this site today. Anonymous Husband is painting Eirinn’s new big girl room, so I had the sole responsibility of entertaining a finicky toddler with suspected ADHD. We have watched Happy Feet, played AH’s drums, made Rice Krispie squares, eaten two square meals, snacked on Goldfish crackers and bananas, cruised the basement on various ride-on vehicles, had a (brief) nap, and played every single game on the Treehouse website. All of them. A couple of them we have played so many times I found myself begging her to pick another game. But she loved them and they are good, clean, educational fun so we played until she ran upstairs to bother Anonymous Husband while he’s knee deep in ceiling, trim, door and wall paint.
I should probably stop typing and go and rescue
Well, where on earth have I been? One post a week? That’s hardly worth it.
I’ll tell you where I’ve been. In MISERY. (Please note that I tend to lean towards the dramatic. I can not be held responsible for any slight exaggeration that may occur during this post.)
This whole pregnant-while-parenting-an-active-and-tantrum-prone-toddler business is seriously kicking my butt. It’s been dragging me down physically, emotionally, and psychologically. Dark circles are eclipsing my once young, sparkly eyes (ahem…). I am developing a slouch that can only be described as a Stress Hump, in the most G-rated way possible. I float between utter joy, infuriation, and complete dispare; the mood changing so quickly I am often wondering “what is wrong with me?” or “where did that come from?”
When I look at my situation objectively, I really do have it fairly easy, given the circumstances. Anonymous Husband does more around the house than most men (seriously, I’m not just looking for bonus points here – he does the vast majority of the cleaning and more than half of the cooking). My mom looks after Eirinn, instead of some stranger, which is an enormous blessing. I have a good job, 10 minutes from home, which pays well and is pretty stress-free (most of the time – this morning was questionable). I have a network of moms I meet with weekly to de-stress, vent, and gossip. I have a best friend who I can email daily.
And, actually, Eirinn has been extremely well behaved this past week (as I knock on wood, cross all my digits and limbs, and pray to sweet Baby Jesus). She has been happy for the most part, has been sleeping well, and has decided that food is not, in fact, the devil, rather is quite delicious and she’ll have more please. And more. And when she’s done
seconds thirdsies she’ll have dessert. And then second dessert. And then maybe a snack. What are we having for supper?
But. BUT. Even a well behaved toddler is still a toddler. Which means High Energy, itty bitty attention span. There’s still a lot of running and jumping and catastrophe-aversion and game-invention and TALKING going on. I just don’t have that kind of energy. I have just enough to pass, probably with a C or a C+, but I feel guilty and like a failure if I don’t average a B+ in Parenting 101. And that, compounded with the hormones and the discomfort, usually brings me to some sort of meltdown.
Evenings are spent just getting through it. I try my best to keep up, to be cheerful, to be a normal mother and wife. But I know it’s not working as well as I’d like. I’m probably not fooling either of them. I’m doing the best I can playing and hanging out with Eirinn for the few hours before bedtime. I’m doing the best I can to be patient and strong and The Meeter of All Needs. I’m doing the best I can, but the best I can right now, to me, is sub-par.
What I would like to be doing in the evenings (and, let’s face it, all day as well) is sleeping. I’d like to come home from work, change into pyjamas (preferably flannel), crawl into bed and sleep until I feel like waking up. Which might not be when the alarm goes off. Heck, it might not even be the morning.
But I can’t, which is ok. And I know this feeling of complete and utter exhaustion of my body and my mind isn’t permanent. It will probably last for quite a while (newborn + toddler does not make for a stress-free environment), but it will get better. Maybe I need a few rejuvenation days (or “sick days”, as my work insists on calling them) to get back on track. Maybe.
I’ll get there eventually, but I’m not there now.