All my friends who had two kids all warned me how tired I'd be. Fatigue beyond belief. But nobody ever warned me about those ultimate defeat moments.
Let me try to shed some light on one recent ultimate defeat.
Bubba is hungry and I awaken to his screaming hunger pains to find my shirt is drenched with milk from my cow udders that have gone for 4.5 hours without being milked. I am alone with my 2 year old sleeping next to me, sprawled across the bed really, because my husband is working nights at the hospital and it's just too hard to put him to sleep in his bed when he can open doors, run out, and well.. yes I gave up and let him sleep in my bed. It's been 4.5 hours since I last was up, in a daze of half awake, half asleep, changing and feeding Bubba. He is a sweetheart of a baby too, letting me sleep from 2 AM until 6 AM when he decides he's had enough. I stick a binky in it. Seems to do the trick.
Nope... spoke too soon. He looses his binky. He yells. Screeches really. I run out to the kitchen as soon as the binky is in and warm up a bottle for him, all while dripping all over our rental apartment's carpet (another reason I tell my husband we need hardwood floor in our future house.. the milk just settles into the carpet and you can sniff your way to it.. but it's hard to clean if you don't quite know where it is). I run back to the room to pump, getting all my parts together, only to see my two year old is now sitting up in bed, staring out the window, still half asleep but on his way to fully awake. Mommy is engorged beyond belief and probably should have set an alarm to get up earlier..what can I say.. I chose sleep over pain. Hoping my two year old will be oblivious to my pumping antics, I gear up and think I've got it under control. Two year old is in a haze of trying to wake up and the one month old is happily sucking on his binky and I am about to pump.
Then in a blink of an eye it all changes. Bubba's binky falls out yet again. Jordan's decided he wants the "purple iPhone" to play with. He also tells me "Bubba cry" everytime the binky falls out. It seem sto happen a few times. I've only been pumping for five minutes, but that's exactly when one side overfills the now tiny 2 oz bottle catching the milk. I lean over again and again to put Bubba's binky back in, drip a ton of milk on self and carpet, hear Jordan whining for the iPhone and decide fine - and hand it over to him reluctantly. Get a few seconds of peace while Jordan is playing before he tells me it's broke because it's out of battery. I'm sorry, I tell my son. Maybe you can just play with something else or go back to sleep? "No sleep!" he tells me. He peers over at the bottle catching my milk and tells me, "milk all gone" because the new bottle I just snapped on isn't full quite yet. Bubba begins to yell. He's lost his binky and is arching his back, trying to explain how uncomfortable he is. I unhook the pump pipes, run out with the rest of the pump stuff still on me, run to the kitchen to grab the milk for Bubba, and run back to feed him, all while still hooked up to the pumping shields and milk. Jordan realizes he now wants milk. Begins asking for it nicely with a lot of pleases. Elevates it to a simple demand. Can you wait just a little while I feed Bubba? "No Bubba milk!" he tells me. I'm still dripping, I haven't pumped enough, but I decide to just feed Bubba while pumping. I don't even feel how disgusting I really am at this point, I am just trying to make it through the next five minutes. There's milk on my lap, on my shirt, on Bubba, and it is not a pretty sight. Jordan seems to have calmed down and I secretly pray he isn't pooping. Right as I'm thinking that, he points to his very exceptionally full crotch of a diaper and tells me "I pooped." I tell him calmly that I will change it as soon as I finish feeding Bubba. "I pooped!" he tells me again and again with an escalating louder voice, as if to ensure he makes himself heard because he senses a barrier of communication. No son, no barrier of communication, just barrier of opportunity really. I don't have enough hands! I try to explain things to him, but he keeps persisting and I end up just asking him how he can fix the broken purple phone instead. This seems to work temporarily. Meanwhile, I finish feeding and burping Bubba, unhook all the pumping parts, and run out to get Jordan's milk and tell him as I'm doing it so he will remain calm. I'm hoping nothing happens with Jordan and Bubba unsupervised while scanning my brain for any hard toys in the room that Jordan might throw (he's into throwing everything lately and we've had multiple teachings with him about hard versus soft or ball versus not ball). I decide in that moment that I cannot wait an additional minute to warm up his cold milk and pour in the freshly pumped milk into his bottle. I run back to give it to him, and then proceed to change his diaper (only wet) while he eats, and relax as everything seems to be peaceful now. And then Andy comes home. And right when everything seems dandy and I'm ready to lie down next to my husband who is holding our newborn and our toddler who is tucked right next to them, I find that the bed is soaked.. but this isn't milk. No... this is much more .... pissy smelling. Pee. That really full diaper of Jordan's? It didn't hold much this morning.
Oh the joys of motherhood when it's not just one.