In the first few days after Olivia came home I was basically walled off from social media, in my own little cocoon of sleeplessness and feedings and thousands and thousands of diapers. It was kind of like 2001 all over again, where the only way I knew what was going on in the world was the TV, or the phone, or actually talking to someone in person. Hudson seemed to be adjusting well and even though dinner was pretty much Panera Bread every night for a week straight, I figured we were doing pretty ok. Excelling, even. I mean, everyone was happy, and Panera Bread seems like the “choosy moms” version of fast food. This mother of two thing? Not so bad.
But then one night I was feeding (Breastfeeding! Because I’m going that extra mile!) Olivia at 2 am and surfing Facebook in an attempt to stay awake. There were the usual pictures of people and their drinkssss!!! at the bar, the “I just ran 6 miles in 3.5 minutes!” app posts that make me feel even worse about still wearing (and fitting in super great!) my maternity jeans 4 weeks after delivery.
And then I started noticing the mom posts. One mom with three kids who works full time and “whipped up” the most beautiful Pinterest-y cupcakes for her son’s birthday. Another who had “tried her hand at sewing!” and made an adorable dress for her daughter that said daughter subsequently wore for their trip to the zoo. And lastly, a mom who put together a Jacques Cousteau day at their house, complete with educational books and dancing. Did I mention she has twins? THREE YEAR OLD BOY TWINS?
I thought back to what we did that day. Sure, we managed to get to the library when Olivia was sleeping, but when I asked Hudson if he wanted to read a book he shouted “No!” and began dumping out every toy bin in the play area. Attempting to make the trip educational, I tried to get him to name the different types of play food. Mostly this just consisted of me reminding him that the “pizza” he was holding was not in fact real, and to please stop putting it in his mouth. For dinner we had macaroni from a box that I threw some broccoli in, half of which is probably still on the floor. The rest was kind of a blur. I think I did some laundry, which is probably growing moldy in the washing machine as I write this. Uh, be right back.
How are these other moms making it look so easy? I’m not going to lie, I can’t even remember who Jacques Cousteau is. Renaissance painter? Famous French explorer? Celebrity chef on The Food Network? How am I supposed to teach my son anything when my winningest day is one where we do a puzzle together and I successfully remember the lyrics to a lullaby? (Not kidding-the other day I caught myself singing “Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now” as I was rocking a fussy Olivia to sleep. Nothing says “Cheer up, little one! The world’s a great place! quite like the lyrics of Steven Morrissey. Though I guess “Rock a Bye Baby” isn’t exactly “What a Wonderful World,” either.)
I guess something’s gotta give with two kids, and for a while that’s gonna be all my Pinterest-y, Montessori-school, stay-at-home mom ambitions. One day soon I’m going to make a cake shaped like the entire cast of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse just because it’s Thursday. And we’re going to have a day where we learn about Sandro Botticelli and paint our own pictures with little berets on. But right now I’m just going to be happy for the days where no one chokes on fake pizza and we all make it to bed at 11:00. And 2:00. And 4:30.