It is common for people to say to me, a mother of five, that they feel they really can't complain about having "only" one or two children. "I can't even handle TWO," they say. "I don't know how you do it."
Once in a while, like this morning, I'm left in the house with fewer than my usual number of children. Right now I'm here for two hours with just Henry: my parents took Rob and the twins out to lunch, and Paul has gone on some errands with William. A rational mind would assume that this would be an improvement: what a treat, to be here with just one child! What a peaceful, relaxing time, to have only 20% of my usual workload!
NO. It is HARDER. It is HARDER to have one child. When it is just Henry and me, he wants my attention all the time. I go nuts feeling like I have to entertain him; he goes nuts feeling like I have to entertain him. He fusses and cries a lot, and that's the only sound in this quiet house.
I don't know what to do with him: when I hold him, he squirms and kicks; when I put him down, he doesn't like that either. I move him from his exersaucer to his playroom to his jump-up, and nothing pleases him. Time goes very slowly: how long until I can give him some lunch? how long until he'll go down for his nap? oh no, it can't be only 11:24!
I'm simultaneously bored and overwhelmed. It's VERY UNPLEASANT. It reminds me of the days when Rob was a toddler and William was a baby, and I used to get weepy because I wanted to have four children but I didn't see how that would be possible when two was SO HARD.
One is HARD. Two is HARD. Really, I don't know how you do it.
Summer sleep-away camp supplies - I am in a TIZZ about Elizabeth going to Girl Scouts camp this summer. I’m GLAD she’s going, and I’m glad she WANTS to go, but it’s a week and this is the f...