“Let’s play dollies!” Molly declares, waving her Frozen dolls in my face. “You be Elsa and I be Anna!”
“Ok, let’s pretend they’re going to the park,” I say, bending my knees on the sofa to create a slide for them to go down, in an effort to keep my part in the game horizontal for at least a few more minutes.
“No, let’s go on the bouncy castle!” she cries, making Elsa jump vigorously up and down on my belly. “It’s nice and bouncy, Mummy!”
The setting is Dublin Airport. A toddler is having a full on meltdown over a bag of Haribos. Lying on the floor, arms flailing, legs kicking – screaming: “I WANT the SWEEEETIEEEES!! Give me the SWEEETIEEEES!!!!!” The father is quickly stashing the fodder in question in his pocket while the mother crouches down with a small baby strapped to her chest. She’s trying calmly to reason with the screeching child so as not to cause even more of a scene.
“What are you doing?” I ask the husband who is inserting an ipod headphone into one ear. “Putting some music on so I’m not bored out of my head,” he replies as I settle down for a cat-nap while he navigates the long drive back from Northern Ireland’s North Coast. The husband is referring to the fact that I have developed a dislike for having the car radio on, declaring: “There are just too many levels of noise – toddlers rambling, music blaring and us trying to have a conversation – it’s too much!” In truth, when it comes to the volume button these days, I’ve become a little grumpy.
I’ll confess to being a bit grumpy over the past few weeks. Ok, you’ve got me. That’s not the full truth. I’ve been tearful, snappy and at times at the end of my tether. Blame it on the hormones, blame it on Henry’s growth spurts, blame it on Molly’s at times challenging and naughty behaviour – whatever the reason – I’ve been feeling out of sorts. Constant feeding combined with sleepless nights have been draining my energy, making me wonder if I will ever find a rhythm that I can comfortably handle again.
Lately I’ve been doing exactly what I told myself I wouldn’t do this time around. I’ve been tormenting myself by looking for answers to questions that don’t seem to want to be answered just yet. My late night google-ing sessions in particular have been driving me mad! “When will my baby sleep through the night?” “Should I be stretching out my feedings by now?” “Why won’t my baby nap during the day?” “Why hasn’t he done a poo for 3 days?”
“I thought you said you wouldn’t analyse things so much this time,” said the well-meaning husband as he listened to me rant about the fact that I thought Henry should be taking a nap. “Didn’t we say we’d go with the flow a bit more? Just watch and see how things pan out?” However, going with the flow is easy when you’ve had 10 hours sleep, a long uninterrupted shower and a peaceful cup of coffee. Cue the reality of sleepless nights, the loss of your free time and a second small child to deal with and you’ve got a recipe for going slightly crazy!
“You need to calm down mummy. You need to calm down,” Molly tells me, patting my back as I stand bouncing Henry in one arm, while wiping my tears away with the other hand. It’s not the picture of perfect parenting: in fact, it’s a complete role reversal. Unruly post tantrum toddler comforts sobbing mum, whose patience (held together that day by a single very frayed thread) has finally given way. It’s the moment when there are no more buttons left to push. The moment you think: “To heck with motherly composure. My child has seriously p@£$ed me off. Now it’s my turn to have a meltdown!”
(A letter from baby no. 2 about what we could do differently this time around)
First up, I must say, I’m really looking forward to meeting you. You seem like a pretty cool Mummy and I think you’re doing a fab job, even if you don’t think so yourself most of the time. I want to tell you not to worry about my arrival – it really doesn’t matter how I get into this world. I see how you still sometimes feel a little tearful about the birth of my big sister Molly. I know it wasn’t easy on your body or your mind, but all that doesn’t matter now – Molly doesn’t seem fazed at all – in fact she seems pretty cool too.
I know that you’ll be really tired in the weeks to come and I want you not to be so hard on yourself this time. I don’t mind if we cry a bit together, get things off our chest. I don’t want you to bottle things in at all like you sometimes did when Molly was little. Ask for help when you need it. Hand me over to Daddy. Tell Granny to give you a break. I’ll give you a shout when I need you again as I know it’s not easy caring for a tiny one like me, so don’t take it all on yourself.
