I thought having two kids would be easy. I also thought that I was okay to drive home on St. Patrick’s day after 7 drinks and at least 5 shots, and then locked myself in a bathroom. Thank God for sister in-laws like mine. Both of these really show how much common sense I have.
Having two kids is comparable to to owning a circus of midgets that are all union workers. It’s a cluster fuck of chaos and demands I just can’t deliver. There are times that I really enjoy, such as nap time, bed time and…I’ll have to get back to you on that.
When one is crying, the other starts crying. As soon as I get the tiny human asleep, the large one thinks it’s time to pull out every loud toy she has imaginable, and I am SHHHHing my head off. Every time I turn my back Layla is trying to feed Caroline some random food/object. It’s like karma came around for my bragging at how perfect of a baby Layla was. That, along with all of the sneaking out, partying and drinking I did in high school. Karma decided to grab me by the ovaries and give me a child going through terrible two’s and the neediest baby imaginable. Well played, Karma, well played.
It’s a miracle if I get dressed at all during the day with these two. Alex is as supportive and helpful as he can be, but let’s be honest. He works until sometimes four in the morning, I don’t expect him to do a lot around the house. I am lucky he wakes up as early as he does, otherwise he would find me passed out in the kitchen, drunk off of wine, with Layla doodles all over my body, and her using Caroline as a boost up to the counter for chocolate.
My girls are precious. They love cuddling and kisses, singing and giggling. There is a catch though. They love doing these things as far away from each other as they possibly can be, more so the two year old Monster. She loves the idea of babies, but sit her down next to Caroline and it’s like you set her bears on fire while giggling, right in front of her. I had really hoped it wouldn’t be like this, and it’s exactly what I got.
I am sure most sisters get along, but mine so far hate each other. I only really remember another pair of siblings that hated each other slightly more, and that was my older sister, Sydney, and I. We were down right evil to each other. I swear at her 5th grade birthday party she was going to allow one of her friends to drown me, while playing whirlpool in our swimming pool. I used to say the meanest shit to her, just for kicks and giggles. And if she did anything wrong, you bet your sweet ass I was the first to rat her out to my parents. I don’t really know what it was, but I am leaning towards the fact that she was a diehard Backstreet Boys fan and I was all about N*Sync. Boy bands broke us apart.
Sibling rivalries are really difficult, and I am hoping my girls grow into a place where they do love each other, and a lot faster than my sister and I did. It’s been only until the last few years that we have been able to be in a room without one of us bitch slapping the other.
I am also aware that my children are extremely young still, so it gives them hope. But, with them being so young, Layla’s hatred of Caroline just makes my day so much more difficult. She screams when I am changing Caroline. She yells when I am playing with her and Caroline, but not giving her MORE attention. You lay Caroline down next to her, and every muscle spasm the tiny child makes is “THE BABY IS TRYING TO KILL ME MOMMA!” to Layla. The most interaction they had went down like this:
“Mom, let me hold the baby” She tells me. I am timid, not trusting the tiny little hands of my two year old. I force her to sit on the couch, in the corner and set Caroline in her lap. She looks down at her little sister, like she has AIDS, and starts to shove her away. “Mom, get it off. Take it please.”
“Just let me take one picture ple-“
“MOM TAKE IT NOW!” Nearly shoving Caroline off the couch altogether.
I try to not push Caroline onto Layla, but, she literally ignores her all day long, and it would be nice to have her talking to Caroline while I cook or fold laundry, so I don’t have to stare at that tiny little demon or hold her 24/7. She loves when her big sister talks to her, or even talks near her.
I envy those who kept their legs crossed for longer in between children. I really do. Damn drunken slutty legs of mine.
I am just waiting for the day that they play together, the day that I can pop open a bottle of wine, pour myself a glass and tell them “Go play together, get out of my face for five seconds.” Until then, I am dealing with one child in my arms, and the other attached to my leg, begging for my full attention (or screaming for it in the case of my baby). I really wish they handed out Prozac more like candy.