On soaking “it” in

Something happens when you have your first kid. Every person you run into with older kids feels the need to tell you to soak “it” in. The grandpa at the grocery store. The mom with teenagers. Jordan Peterson in that annoying Instagram reel audio that went viral a few years ago starting with, “You only have 4 years…” I actually really like him by the way. I just hate how that particular clip makes me feel anxious that I am missing “it” while “it” is happening before my very eyes.

These first few weeks, months, years of motherhood go by quickly. And at the same time, some days feel like an eternity. You know, the days where everything feels like pure chaos and you feel like you’re failing right and left. On the good days, it’s easy to want to soak the moments in. But on the hard days, it’s difficult to want to stay in the moment, let alone the season. The only thing soaking is your shirt - from spit up or snot or pee. This morning my carpet got a good soak in when Leo projectile spit up almost an entire feeding… I’ve never seen anything like it.

When I quit working at the gym about a year and a half after we had Ellie, it was because I felt like I was missing “it”. I worked from home three days a week and I found myself just waiting all day long for nap times so I could get work done. I was so stressed and so focused on getting to those times so I could be productive that I wasn’t present in the moments I was not on the clock. I finally decided I didn’t want to miss “it” and that was when I became a stay at home mom.

Now we have two kids and I’m realizing that in a lot of ways, I just switched out work for housework. A lot of days I’m still just waiting for nap times so I can have time to do  productive things. Like dishes and laundry and cleaning up after Ellie for the thousandth time that. On rare occasions, I’ll use the time for myself. Like writing or napping or showering. But that’s assuming both kids are asleep and I can ignore the never ending piles of things that need to get done around my house.

There’s a song “I’m in a hurry (and I don’t know why)” by Alabama that I often think about. It goes, “I'm in a hurry to get things done. Oh, I rush and rush until life's no fun. All I really gotta do is live and die. Even I'm in a hurry and don't know why.” I feel like this describes my general approach to life. Except I’m often running late to things, so I kind of know why…

So how do you live in the moment, stay present, soak “it” all in? How do you make sure you’re not missing “it”? The truth is, I’m not sure.

I find myself frustrated a lot of times with how much of my attention Ellie wants. She constantly wants me to play with her and if I’m completely honest, a lot of times I wish she would just entertain herself so I could get things done without having to wait for nap time. I forget that her desire for my attention is a gift that only lasts such a short time.

At the same time, it’s ever on my mind that she’s getting older and less and less of my baby and someday she won’t ask me to play with her anymore. I don’t know if it’s because having Leo around makes her seem older. Or if it’s the fact that she stopped saying “nana” and “poepoe” last week and started saying “banana” and “purple” instead. Or if it’s the fact that Jonathan and I have just been talking about it a lot lately. But sometimes I feel like these precious days are slipping through my fingers. My heart breaks just imagining me offering to play with her and her saying, “no thanks Mom. I can do it by myself.” Insert sobbing emoji.

I know these are the golden years. I know my heart will long for these days someday. I know there will be an ache deep down inside  of me that wishes I could just pull them up into my lap for one more snuggle or book or rock to sleep. I’ll miss the days that I was her world, her best friend, her number one playmate. 

Jonathan and I talk about how simple her life is right now. When she wakes up in the morning her agenda is play, eat snacks, snuggle, read books, and on the best days, “Go to a new park with swings”. All she really needs is Mama and Dada, and she’s finally acknowledging Bubba too… lol Her world is small and simple and beautiful. And Jonathan and I are the very center of it. What a gift. What a joy. What an honor. What a responsibility. How many of us spend our whole lives chasing acceptance and love from other people and right here in front of us we have unconditional love on display. We are their world, and yet we miss “it”.

I’m Leo’s world in a different way right now and I’m still struggling with feeling like I’m missing “it”. Right now, I am “home” for him. We shared a body for nine months and I am “safe” in this foreign world. My heartbeat is the lullaby he prefers. My body is where he finds food for a hungry belly. We’ve been trying to get him to take a bottle lately and he’s mostly refused it. I was disappointed because sometimes it feels almost sophisticating that we can’t be apart for more than a few hours ever. But then when he did take a bottle for about 2 minutes, I was sad because it meant I wasn’t the only place he would receive nourishment from. He wouldn’t need me as much as he did before. And then he stopped taking it and I was disappointed again. The emotions of motherhood are complicated and confusing at times… 

I feel like I’m missing Leo’s “it” because he’s a second born and I’m so busy trying to care for Ellie that he often only gets my leftover attention. He’s a pretty happy dude which is a blessing. But it makes it easy to give him less attention than he deserves. When Ellie was little I feel like we just sat around and stared at her all the time so we saw her grow. Poor Leo seems to magically change leaps and bounds. I feel like I all but missed his newborn phase. How do you make time slow down?

Ellie and Leo have been sick for over two weeks. It’s been a tough few weeks of being mostly at home. Our house feels like a perpetual mess and I’ve been caught in waiting for nap time again. Yesterday was particularly rough and I felt like I ran out of patience way too many times. Then I saw a video on Instagram where the mom showed her perspective of a day, followed by her daughter’s perspective. The mom saw messes and her kids fighting and herself failing as a mother. Her daughter saw games and sibling love and her mom making the day a wonderful adventure. Of course I was crying by the end of it and of course I have a lump in my throat right now just thinking about it. It hit home. I’m so stuck in my own adult head that I forget to imagine life through her eyes. 

How do we make sure we don’t miss “it”? I’m not sure how to answer that question. But I do know that I want to love Ellie and Leo well. I want them to grow up in a home that is full of love and joy and safety and adventure. I want to be present. 

Sometimes I get angry about how much I miss “it” because I’m always consumed in my phone. I want to chuck my phone into the pavement when I realize I’ve been half ignoring this sweet little face that’s begging for my attention. In those moments, I do imagine things from her perspective. And it breaks my heart.

Today I pondered all of these things as I rocked Ellie and Leo to sleep simultaneously. Most days getting Ellie down for her nap comes with high levels of anxiety. If Leo is already asleep, he could wake up in the middle of me rocking her. If he’s awake, he might prevent me from being able to get her down altogether. But today was one of those unicorn days where they both fell asleep while I holding each in one arm. Some days my arms feel full, like on the good days where I do slow down and soak “it” all in. Some days they feel empty, like when I’m exhausted and impatient and over caffeinated and under hydrated and I feel like I have nothing else to give. But today my arms felt like love. I felt the ever present sense of urgency to get up and do something. But I resisted. I soaked “it” in. I held their tiny hands in mine and thought about the future, while savoring the present. I hope to have another baby someday. I won’t be able to rock all 3 at once. But then again, Ellie will be big enough that she won’t need to be rocked anymore. For now I have two. One arm for each. I can fit my world in my arms (well Jonathan is a part of it too…). I want to enjoy this moment, this day, this season. The dishes can wait.

This blog feels all over the place. But so does my mind these days. And my emotions for that matter. I’ve found the months right after having a baby to be particularly emotional and confusing. The hormones and the life changes seem to make me feel things much more deeply than I normally do. It’s both a blessing and overwhelming at times. But perhaps they help me see things more clearly, while everything else feels jumbled? All I know is I don’t want to miss “it”. And so I’m slowing down to rock my babies to sleep and to hold their tiny hands and to write a blog that will hopefully help remind you to ask yourself the important questions in life. Like what is “it” and how do you soak “it” in?