The past five and a half months have been a struggle. It probably wasn’t that visible to many and most, because we have our ways of looking calm and collected while the currents rage under.
No, we’ve not been fighting, nor is my family on the brink of a break-up. Nothing like that.
Did I say that the struggle was merely mine, from my point of view?
Eversince the arrival of the little one, my life has been one huge confuse. Just sitting here recalling the first two months when Callum would be asleep for most parts of the day and night, on his own, in his cot, on our bed … and how I would shut the door behind him and turn to my two boys (who were on school break, which made it worse for them) and tell them to lower it, play quietly, go play in the room, BECAUSE CALLUM’S SLEEPING. They heard no end of ’shushes’ and seen many of my furrowed brow displaying my dissatisfaction at their insensitivity towards their new brother. If they were wild enough, they would even get an earful and a smack from their dear mother too.
I feel sorry that they’ve lost almost half of their mom and dad in exchange for a babbling, un-fun, so-many-limitations baby brother. Maybe more. As parents, our attention is always first turned to the least independent, most helpless of the three. Callum, being the newborn; Nate, adjusting to a new school; and finally Jed, because he has the least disruption to his life, therefore needing the least soothing. But who said that Jed needed us least? He sure as day showed his neediness in other ways. Like, bullying Callum, defying our instructions, fighting with Nate because he had come to learn to stand up for himself … desperate measures for desperate situations. Poor chap.
Over the months, the two boys have learned to adjust. Whether against their wishes or from maturity of mind, they have learned to accept that the baby takes precedence over their needs. When we’re all in the car, none of us gets to listen to our favourite, high-decibel rock tunes anymore, BECAUSE CALLUM’S SLEEPING. The family gets split into half (and a bit) because someone has to stay home with Callum. So the other parent takes the boys out to wherever. Joe and I take turns attending LG every Monday night because Callum and Nate (who attends morning school) sleep at 9pm. Our dear Jed gets parked at my parents’.
All that, mere logistics, nothing that growing boys cannot handle. Right? I guess, what I think they have a problem comprehending and sometimes blame themselves for is, why their Mommy is always in a bad mood. Why is her temper so volatile? Her patience so thin? Her tenderness and understanding as rare as a Happy Meal? (Even a trip to Maccas occurs twice a month, rather consistently!)
The confession – it is tough for me. Physically, I cannot be in 3 places at the same time. So each boy takes turns having me. If No.1 makes me mad, then No.2 and 3 get the brunt of my madness. So lucky is the one who has me first, whoever that might be.
Emotionally, I am fraught with worry about everything that concerns each one of them. The real deal of this confession (which is but an essence) has been weighing on my mind a long time. The aches and soreness of the day creeps in when I plunge myself deep into my couch and look at the closed door of their bedroom – yes, dear boys, we got through another day, but I did it so badly. I am so sorry …
I hate school. I dread the words “Mommy, I have homework” when Nate comes home. I hate coaching for schoolwork, preparing for spelling/tingxie/topic reviews/poem recitals. The school isn’t giving an exam this whole semester, and yet I am so bugged by next semester’s, fervently insisting that Nate catch up with his work (because he lags behind quite a great deal). Nate & School, is another story altogether. He forgets things, loses things (lunchbox, PE shorts, Chinese reader cards, school diary, Chinese textbook, Music book, stationery … good thing he hasn’t lost himself!), misses information that teacher mentions and fails to relay the message to Mommy so Mommy can’t help him prepare for things or pay up for books or fill up forms or pack things for him … … (and the frustration mounts as I recount the past 4 months of school).
Not to mention that I’ve been unable to cook decent meals for the family, since I carry Callum for most part of the day. I miss cooking so much. I feel like I’ve shortchanged everyone, and as much as Joe helps whenever he can, I know that my lack means an extra stretch for him.
In the past five and a half months, I’ve swung from nice mommy to crazy mommy, from arms that hug to arms that flail in exasperation and anger, tears of love to those of hopelessness, contentment to abandon. Hormones? I don’t know, I really don’t know. I don’t think so.
I DON’T WANT TO BE LIKE THAT. I DON’T WANT TO GET CRAZY OVER SCHOOL, GRADES, SOCIAL STANDARDS AND SUCH TEMPORAL THINGS. I want to be fun, cool, awesome, endearing and assuring, while encompassing gentleness, goodness, femininity – yes, rage can turn one into a monster (n. masculine). I simply crave being a mom whom my children can arise and call blessed.
(I guess all transformation begins with confession and repentance.)
Nate looked at me yesterday from across the coffee table as I was feeding Callum, lost in my thoughts, “I love you Mommy.”
Sigh. I really need to exhale.
