One of the parts I was the most worried about before the arrival of our second babe, was how on earth I would cope with two. I mean, I felt like having one and “coping” was already a fairly generous term. I’d base a day’s success off remembering to pack spare clothes and not ending up in urgent care because our toddler had managed to wallop her poor head yet again.
It’s the small wins that count, right?
So it’s unsurprising that the thought of having two small people, totally dependent on me, was a bit daunting. What do I do if they’re both crying? How do I ensure they both feel loved, even if I have to let one be for a bit while I tend to the other? And most crucially, how on earth do I get them both into the car without all three of us in tears?
It’s safe to say that four weeks on, I really have no answers. I don’t feel that I’m anymore knowledgeable now than I was, and we just kind of muddle through each day. The thing is though, I’m not worried about it anymore. Okay, let’s be realistic (hello Kaitlyn and her signature anxiety!!) and say I’m not worried about it 85% of the time now. Because I’m learning that you kind of just have to take it all as it comes and make it up along the way. I still don’t have any proper answers to all those questions that floated around in my head for months, because the best response really is, “it depends, and you can do it.”
You just kind of adapt, you see. Over time you figure out ways of making things flow more smoothly. And even if you don’t, the time passes anyway and you somehow get through. My husband and I like to call this process “levelling up.” We were once totally inept Pokémon, and now we are slightly less useless Pokémon.
Another big thing that helps is just kind of accepting that often it will be very messy, whether it’s emotions or routines or the literal floor. And trying to just go with it, without letting the messiness of the adjustment really get you down. There will be times when you’re all crying and there will be times when you look like a Facebook HelloFresh discount code family, and you just have to keep going through it all. Know that it’s normal to be both a mess and an organised goddess within the same hour.
The whole “laughter is the best medicine” cliche is also horribly true. It does help, truly. When there’s Weet-Bix cemented on the table and the toddler is weep-begging you to wash off the pen marks she added to her beloved duck three weeks ago and the baby is hungry again and Banksy drew on the cabinetry and there’s lego everywhere and your hair is crusty with spew and then the toddler starts crying for “nudes” (noodles) and oh, oh there’s a knock at the door! - when this all happens, yes it’s hard, if not impossible, to find the humorous side. So feel free to cry instead. But then afterwards, once the dust settles (and settle it will!), then you must laugh about it or if you can’t, tell someone who will. Finding the bright side in your misfortune really does make you feel better, because it might help you to see it instead as just real, full, messy fortune. And you know that these situations will continue to arise, so proving to yourself that you can survive each one might make you less fearful of the next. Plus, when the chaos is high, your funny-story-fodder exponentially skyrockets which is always cool.
And so lovely friends, or whomever is reading this (if anyone is, otherwise hello there old mate void), I present to you a list of Things My Toddler Has Done While I’m Baby-Trapped AKA a series of seriously unfortunate events. This list is shared to hopefully make you laugh and to hopefully make me laugh too in the far, far future when we can stop using Jif on the daily.
(Baby-Trapped: verb, the instance of having your hands at maximum capacity with a baby or things relating to a baby. Any attempt to release yourself from being baby-trapped will inevitably result in either banshee screaming or them never sleeping again. For example, feeding, rocking, selling your soul to bargain with the sleep god, or you know, any of these sorts of things. To avoid unpleasant outcomes, you stay must stay baby-trapped for as long as your baby sees fit and you must just watch the events unfolding around you, incapable of doing much more than light pleading).
- The stamps, oh my goodness the stamps. Just after the baby was born, I set out to make up a special basket of things that our toddler could play with whenever I was busy with the baby. I filled it with stuff that I knew she’d love like books, playdough, and stickers. I also added stamps. This was a large mistake. She loves stamps more than almost anything else, because all the kids get a stamp or four at the preschool gymnastics we go to. It’s honestly the highlight of the session. Anyway, I stuck in some stamps and while I’m Baby-Trapped she’ll furiously stamp anything and everything that can’t run away (or if it does, provided it can’t outrun her). The toddler herself, the baby, and I all get absolutely smothered in ink. This is actually an improvement though because initially she’d stamp the walls, so now we’ve managed to convince her that just skin and paper are the best choices.
- Bananagrams, yikes. Do you realise how many tiles there are in Bananagrams? I swear they breed inside that little canvas banana each time I pack them all away. Baby-trapped = spreading the tiles as far and as wide as they can go. Our bed has been filled with Bananagrams on more than one occasion and every day I find at least one rogue tile.
- Water bottle + toddler = 10, me = 0. She tips it directly onto the carpet while eagerly staring me down, waiting to see how I can’t do anything but frantically explain that mummy and daddy are trying to sell the house so please honey blossom, don’t turn the lounge into a swamp.
- The one about the 11L bucket of water. Yes it was bad and yes I should learn from my past mistakes and basically avoid liquids at all costs. While the baby slept I set up this little washing station on the balcony. Our toddler could wash some plastic animals in a bucket of warm water with bubbles, use a scrubbing brush, and dry them with a fluffy towel. I felt like I’d peaked in my organisation level and perhaps got a bit smug because karma arrived. Our toddler loved it for about 10 minutes until she decided to do some levelling up of her own. I watched in horror as she tried to carry the bucket through the ranch slider and into the lounge. Thankfully a lot of the water had already tipped out by the time she reached the door, but I did have to release myself from the Baby-Trap for this one. It wasn’t pretty, but I managed to just get the water to spill down the ranch slider frame rather than the carpet. What a win!
- Banksy strikes in the kitchen. I know that the whole idea of Banksy is that you never see them, but let’s just say that sometimes Banksy is heard. A fierce giggle, stampeding little feet, and a quick bolt when I look over at the cabinetry. A dense, blue scribble cloud has mysteriously appeared. Is it a political commentary on the current housing climate? The loss of wetlands? John Banks getting fired from Magic Talk Radio?
Although being baby trapped can make for some very chaotic situations, it’s a lovely place to be. Especially in hindsight. Thinking back, I feel a bit sad that I’ll never again get those newborn snuggles with our first, so I’m trying to make the most of them with the second babe even if it means that our house is destroyed around me. And at least I can rest assured that our toddler is having an 11/10 good time too.
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