An off day

Today was one of those days that left me questioning whether I'm really cut out for parenting. Tobey and Eli were both a little off schedule: Tobey slept late last night because of fireworks and Eli seemed to start coughing and stirring soon after 5AM. This lack of control over their eating, sleeping and above all potty training, left me a cranky, cranky mom come this afternoon.

I started out a little cranky with Eli but still optimistic for the day. Even though Eli woke up early, Tobey slept through it. For once in recent memory, Eli drank almost his whole morning bottle and things were looking up.

As for the morning with Tobey, we were 0 for 2 for peeing in the potty, leaving me to wonder if potty training was starting to go downhill. If the accidents were from being superfocused on an engaging activity and he forgot to go to the potty, that's one thing. But I was reminding him all morning. Both times, he stood up, peed on the floor while looking down in wonder. But through both accidents, I thought I remained calm, encouraging, non-condemning...even if I was letting Eli cry it out for 40 min. because he couldn't sleep through Tobey's potty visits in the bathroom next door.

Things took a sharp turn south after I put both of them down for nap at 1:30. I was relieved, not just for the break, but because since Tobey was sleeping (i.e., no trips to the bathroom which is right next to Eli's room), then Eli won't be disturbed by the potty and he can finally get the long nap he needs. But unexpectedly, he wakes up after just half an hour.

I'm frustrated. I'm mad. At a 1 year old for waking up for no good reason. I'm nervous he'll wake up Tobey and I'll be stuck with two cranky kids so I whisk in and grab Eli. He's still crying and I cover his mouth as we escape through the hallway. He kind of plays on his own while I sit seething on the futon. I won't play with him, I won't. Because I'm mad that he's awake.

Eli seems hungry. No wonder. His lunch bottle has now been warmed up 3 times because he wouldn't drink it the first two times I tried. He finally took most of it and even by Dr. Moore's standards, I probably shouldn't save the last ounce as leftovers three times over. A little while later I try feeding him solids to which he only fussed. I'm so frustrated that I plop him and me outside on the back porch to feed because I will not let him wake up Tobey. It sounds like I'm trying to accommodate for Tobey as if I favor him but to the contrary, I didn't feel like dealing with him either so better not wake him up.

Over lunch (which lasted about 6 spoonfuls), I realize Eli's breathing is labored. So I get the Albuterol and inhaler, remembering that the last time Tom tried to give it to Eli, he squirmed so much Tom doubted he got any medicine. At this point I am so determined to "win" with Eli that at first squirm, I grab both arms and shove the inhaler onto his face. He's whipping his head back and forth crying (thank goodness we're on the porch and not inside) and I'm following his head with the inhaler (read: squashing it onto his nose and mouth). It was an ugly scene. If it wasn't administering medicine to help him feel better, it would have looked cruel.

After lunch, I briskly announce to Tom (who is secluded in the master bedroom, working from home today on account of a bad sore throat) I'm taking Eli for a walk. We both need the change of scenery lest we drive each other crazy (he's already done it to me).

Nothing like a walk after a frustrating afternoon to get me thinking. Every insecure thought was running through my head like: Is Tobey bad at potty training today because it's all me today and no Daddy? Are the kids cranky because I haven't played with them? Do I really care to play with the kids or do I just want them at a place where they can play by themselves? If I really don't care to play with them much, why did I bother to have kids? And as far as really investing in correcting them or teaching them through these fussy times, I'm still trying to fly by the seat of my pants instead of really devoting myself to figuring out what makes them tick. I've assumed that I'm one of the more thoughtful parents so if other less thoughtful parents can survive, why can't I?

And by the way, how did a day of off kilter naps and pottying turn into me doubting my parenting skills?

Well, if nothing else, the walk outside gave both me and Eli a change of scenery. We came home without waking up Tobey and Eli was fine playing by himself for a while. And he finally went down for a nap.

The appropriate ending to the afternoon as Eli sleeps and I wait for Tobey to wake: pounding chicken breasts for dinner. Everyone jokes that pounding meat is a great way to get out frustrations. Poor chicken never had a chance with me today.