Additionally, he's in a stage where he demands to be constantly entertained. Placing him in a bouncer isn't enough - kid wants you to interact with him and help him play with toys. Or he wants you to toss him in the air. Or help him take assisted steps all over the house. Stop physically and mentally engaging him? Oh, it's scream city. He even screams when he's in the car, something that used to immediately put him to sleep. And let me just tell you how fun rush hour is with a screamer.
|Photo source Henry's constant expression these days...|
Which meant that I got no peaceful showers (actually, I took exactly ONE shower last week), trips to the bathroom or meals (actually, I only got to eating two meals a day). Makeup?! Haven't worn it. My hair was a greasy topknot mess, split ends fraying out from every angle.
It was the kind of week where I broke down. I put Henry in his crib to fuss it out and headed to the master bathroom. I sat on the floor and turned on the ventilation fan - the only place in the house far enough away and loud enough to drown out my baby's screams.
In those moments, all I wanted to do was NOT be a stay at home mom. I missed the days when I would get ready every morning for my office job. Hell, I missed my old office! It was big, with three windows and beautiful hardwood floors that beat the heck out of the cold tile I was hiding out on. I thought, "You know what?! F*$K this! I have a Master's degree and ten years of work experience but all I do is get covered in vomit, fold laundry and wash bottles. I am way better than this bullsh*t!
|Take the cat out of this pic, and this is my daily life. Photo source|
I would have run out to my laptop to immediately start searching for nannies if I hadn't remembered that I'd have to do that to a excruciating soundtrack of a very upset baby.
Being a SAHM is the hardest job I've ever done. Hands down. There are no breaks, there are no sick days, eating lunch is a privilege that I don't get everyday. It's lonely. It's ugly and gross - most days there's spit up in my hair and sometimes it's all down my back. It can be boring, as the repetitiveness of the "eat, burp, change, tummy time, play time" cycle lacks adult mental stimulation. It's thankless. Henry certainly never says, "Hey, thanks for wiping my butt, mama!"
But I don't want to hand my kid over to daycare so that someone else can raise him. I want him to smile at ME after he wakes up from his naps. I want to be there to watch as he learns new skills. I want to be the one to teach him those skills. I want to show him how to be kind and respectful. I want to watch as he makes new friends, and I want to kiss his boo-boo's when he falls.
So I took a few deep breaths and got up off the bathroom floor to head back to the nursery to calm my screaming baby. But he must have sensed my frustration and calmed his own self down, because I found him sleeping peacefully in his crib.
It's funny how in the end, everything all works out as it should.