Yesterday, I found puzzle pieces in the dishwasher. The cardboard cutouts were soaked and lying in pieces near the drain. Nice. Today, my right eye has been twitching for want of sleep. I even closed my eyes for a second while driving. That’s bad I know, but have you ever done that? Your eyes are just begging for a break. Close me, just for a second, they whisper. So I did. (But only for a millisecond.)
The best words I can think of to describe the days of raising two boys 19 months and under are crazy and hazy. Not hazy like the smoggy summer days when the air is thick and sticky, but hazy as in—a brain fog. See, it’s happening to me right now. I can’t think of the right words to say. (Maybe that’s because it’s past my bedtime and here I am talking about how tired I am.)
As for the “crazy” part, I think that’s self-explanatory.
My days are often like that. A haze. Crazy. Living in a daze. When they get up from a nap, I begin thinking about bedtime and counting down the hours.
But as I was putting Desitin on Landon’s bum earlier tonight, I realized there is going to come a day when I will miss the smell of Desitin. One day, there will be no more bums to wipe, no more diapers to change, and…I will be sad. And a whiff of Desitin being used by some new mother will take me back to the days when I was a new mother and I will reminisce and smile and most likely tear up. And a part of me will wish those days were the present and not the past.
So, here’s to Desitin. Bottom’s up! To child rearing. To cute little fingers and toes. To yawns and spit up, diapers and wipes. To bibs and bottoms, onesies and footie-pajamas. To cars and trucks, and musical toys. To puzzle pieces. To precious little eyes looking up to me. To tiny feet kicking, crawling, walking, running. To my boys, two of the greatest things life has to offer.
Brooke Frick 
Brooke, my children were 15months apart, and 17 months apart. Presently, they are 35, 36, and 37 yrs. old. They used to get frustrated at me because I didn’t remember their favorite foods, or if I would get them confused. I replied, “You were a litter!!” so I do understand the “fog, smog, and haze,” with one day rolling into the next. And, yes, you will be sad one day when it’s all over. My daughter was about 10 when she stopped sitting on my lap, and I used to think that if only I had known when it was her last lap-sit I would have cherished it to the full. Love your sharing and perspectives.
Thanks Brooke 🙂 I needed that.
Bottom’s up! Love the play on words. Don’t worry, Brooke, you’ll have bottoms to wipe for several more years. Trust me. 🙂 Only a mother can understand how much crap (the literal kind) can consume your life! The cleaning, wiping, questioning — is it too hard, too soft, too often, not often enough? Ha. Praying for you about the sleep thing, too. I know how hard that can be. XO, me.
Beautiful and touching Brooke. Motherhood is special.