Mama's First Day Out

I never want to forget the kind of mother I always envisioned myself being:  Fun; cool; wise; energetic; spontaneous; adventurous- the type of mom I wanted for myself.  On days where I am "turning into my mother", I visualize myself in the same way I used to when I was a kid.  This morning, preparing for a family get-together was a battle between two different women:  The one I wish I was; and the one who needs to work her booty off to actually get there. 

I planned to leave at noon, but at 11am, my two year-old, who has been on a potty strike, was outside piling his dad's tools on a pancaked turd he freshly soft-served onto the driveway.   Calmly, I escorted him to the shower and sang until he cried for "chichi".  Empathetic to his recent change as a big brother, I talk to him lovingly, and we step out of the shower.  Itzix is crying, for me, "Akinyemi, el bebe tiene que tomar chichi. Okay? Tu hermanito esta bastante pequeño y no puede comer comida como, tu", I explain in a song-like tone.

Akinyemi's cries compete with the exacerbated, cat-in-heat tone of the baby's.  This is where the hormones kick in.  A lactating mom hearing her child cry will break through concrete with her bare hands to nurse.  I can't think straight, so I rock and nurse my newborn, leaving Akinyemi hanging.  Akinyemi's little hands point right at the tip of my nipple through my shirt "this, this", he explains as if I don't understand that he wants to nurse.  I cave, and there they are, my two month old and my two year old, nursing desperately. I was the only one lacking a drink. 

Itzix, who is amazing at vocalizing his potty needs, is fussing and bites at my nipple, I explain, again, to Akinyemi, his baby brother's needs.  Finally, when I say "Itzix va hacer poo poo aqui en la cama!", he latches off.  Just then, Itzix has an explosive newborn poop, spraying my only pair of jeans that fit.  "Eeeewww...nacky...poopoo, nacky", Akinyemi is surprised, despite the warnings.  After wiping myself down, I potty Itzix, so he can finish, and dress both kids.  I wasn't patient enough with Itzix, because right as I'm about to walk out the door, he poops, looking me STRAIGHT in the eye.

Disappointed, stressed out, and in a rush, I fumble through his diaper bag, clean him up, find some last minute snacks- then realize in all of this mess, that I haven't pottied Akinyemi.  Too late.  He peed himself a fresh, warm pipi. I struggle to be empathetic walking him to the bathroom, I go into the hallway, and bang on the wall, thinking "He was potty trained BEFORE the baby- WHAT is WRONG with him?!!".  I notice Akinyemi staring at me, breathe it out, change him, grab my newborn, and we are back to square one: nursing.

Once we got on the freeway, I talked to Akinyemi about all of the fun things we would do.  He was laughing excitedly and dancing in his car seat.  I look over to ask if he wants a snack, and see his smiling face look back at me like I'm the coolest mom in the world.  His seat belt is unbuckled!  I pull over at the first exit, begging myself not to crash.  I have to fight him to get it back on, he cries a while, but at this point I'm too relieved to be frustrated.

We made it to our family function, after two hours of traffic and crying babies.  It should've taken 45 minutes, but good food and family always make me happy.  I kept my adventure a secret from everyone but my husband until now.  He gave an untroubled laugh at my attempt to take the kids out two months postpartum.  He'll get his turn.