Fatigue, the other "F word"

I haven't blogged in a while (this blog took me three days to write) because toddlers are exhausting! And not that, "I rescue cats so I spent all day changing litterboxes, feeding my 62 felines I keep in my one bedroom apartment, birthing kittens, cleaning up vomit sort of exhaustion", no. This is the kind where at the end of the day your mind is mush, your bones are tired, your muscles are fatigued, your voice is at it's max limit of repetitive toddler talk, yet you cant fall asleep!!!! Everything screams, "That was a LONG day!" but you lay there, wide awake singing Disney songs and peeking in on your freshly bathed sleeping beauty.

During the day, I CAN keep up, sure I have a hard time lately, but it's amazing how fast I can be when I need to. You've never seen a pregnant mother jump up so fast as when she realizes she left the dog's food and water on the floor, or the bathroom door open, or the laptop too close to the edge of the table (when did this kid's arms get so long?!) Yeah, I can keep up, it's just that lately, I feel more like the tortoise and Grace is the hare. Sure, I always win in the end but I've been at a steady, grueling, exhausting pace all day while that crazy hare runs circles around me, hops through flower patches and my pile of clean folded laundry and then takes a long, restful nap before sprinting the rest of the way to the finish line. And I trudge on, one fat, slow foot in front of the other, picking up toys and hopefully doing a load of dishes along the way. 

I remember a random time when a random woman explained to me that toddlers can be more difficult than newborns and I thought to myself, "You're nuts!" That woman must have just forgotten. Forgotten the sleepless nights, the spit up, the crying for unknown reasons, the panic of a new mother... surely a toddler couldn't be more draining than those first couple months! Now I see. I see what she meant. When I take Grace out to eat and she quietly, patiently chews her food only to lean forward ever so delicately and spit it all on to the restaurant table; when her breath smells like dog food; when her hair is a mess of endless knots again; when she says, "Mama?" for the 600th time in 5 minutes. The endless questions, the tantrums, the head banging, the food throwing, the screaming, the running. The running. The running!!! When you're one and a half, walking is pointless, you have to sprint everywhere while the entire time telling everyone exactly what you're doing. "Runnin', runnin'...Mama! Runnin'!" It's very telling when other mothers ask how old my daughter is and when I reply they get this look on their face.....this, have-you-lost your-mind-yet?-look.  

The inconsistency and surprise of the growing child....it leaves me silently shaking my head at times. Case in point would be how Grace has a fairly common, unnamed, toddler "issue". I call it an "issue" because that's the cleanest way I can phrase it. She wakes, up multiple times a month, screaming bloody murder only to follow the sudden outburst by vomiting the entire contents of her stomach. It's absolutely every amount of disgusting, traumatizing and frightening as it sounds. Needless to say I don't get much sleep. I'm always anticipating a bulimic episode, prepared to explode out of bed in hopes I can clean up before it gets too messy, sleeping with both eyes open, waiting. And once she's giggling and happy again (approx 3 min later) my blood pressure is off the charts high and sleep is out of the question for a few hours. Luckily enough, if my nighttime exorcist daughter doesn't keep me up the kicking baby boy, hormones, bathroom trips and late night cravings will, so I'm every bit of used to running on empty.

Eight and a half months pregnant with a nineteen month old. Yes, it was planned but I always say, "Maybe Jeff and I didn't talk about this to the lengths we should have." Lifting a baby while constantly holding another can put some strain on the body. And just the other day, while snuggling together on the couch, Grace slowly and forcefully jabbed her elbow into my growing belly. Her baby brother did not appreciate it and pushed back with both knees. The two of them shoved each other while I was stuck in the middle saying, "Ow"....not quite confident enough to use my mother-of-two-voice, "You kids cut it out!" Soon, I'm hoping, I'll step up to the role.  For now, I squirm away still thankful I only have one on the outside for a little while longer. 

Then, on this Wednesday morning I woke up from no sleep at all. My back had been on fire and no amount of tossing and turning would smother the flames. Grace woke up at 6:20am which jolted me up so fast that the sleep in my eyes ripped though my brain like shrapnel. Then, as I tried to get ready for work and cover the bags under my eyes with concealer, Grace continually walked into walls, tripped on her own feet and needed some TLC every time (the continuing joys of growth spurts.) And when my body felt like it was at it's limit, before 8am I might add, Dave Matthews comes on the shuffled playlist and I'm hurdled to being 21. It's the summer of 2002 and I'm buzzed, riding in a Mitsubishi Spyder with my friends, the top down at midnight, on a warm night, headed to another party for more jello shots and dancing. More refreshing than the shower I was just rushed through, Dave's familiar, thoughtful voice brings me back, rejuvenates me and I step out of my morning routine one more time to kiss my crying baby's self inflicted bruises because she deserves every last ounce of my energy. She's what gets me out in the sunshine on days I only want to sit on the couch. She's what keeps me grounded and humbled. She's what has Jeff and I thanking each other every single day for being the other half in creating this little miracle. My love for her is limitless and so is what I have to offer her. With my body almost spent, my mind craving rest and my biceps burning I reach down and pick her up. She rests her head on my shoulder, whimpering, and I whisper in her ear giving her every last piece of me. She gets all of me. I can run on fumes the rest of the day, I've got Dave Matthews by my side and it feels like summer.