6.00 AM and I’m padding to the bathroom to take a quick shower before the baby wakes up.
No sooner do I step out, and the little one is calling for me.
I change his diaper and get him out of his footie jammies, into a onesie, and we sit down for his morning feed.
I settle him in his day time spot in the living room – right now, it’s his rocker, with the vibrate mode on, because it soothes him.
I lug the day’s dirty laundry to the washing machine, pile it all in and turn it on.
The toddler calls for me.
It’s barely 7.00 AM.
I check on the baby – he’s sitting in his chair, looking around the fairly dark room, the sun still not quite up.
I walk down the short corridor to the toddler’s room, open his door and greet him with the usual chirpy ‘Good morning!’.
He hugs me when I reach him. He gets off the bed, I head to his wardrobe and pick his clothes out for the day.
He opens the door and runs out, straight to his baby brother, lays his head down gently and says, “Hi baby.”
I think this is his favorite part of the day.
The toddler gets cleaned up and changed and breakfast is given.
I make my cup of tea.
The baby is still happily sitting in his chair, while I keep the toddler in the kitchen with me.
It’s the only way I can make sure I don’t leave them alone together.
(Did I mention my baby HATES slings?)
I set my cup of tea down, whip open the laptop to check my email/ Twitter/ Facebook quickly, while the toddler empties his toy box a few feet away.
Two minutes later, he comes over and pulls me up. The dude wants his Mama to play.
We sit down and not five minutes in, the baby cries.
Thus begins the rest of my day, where I try to balance the act of tending to the baby (diaper check, diaper change, nursing, rocking to sleep, putting him down, him crying, picking him up, rocking again, repeat, and finally, he sleeps), and spending time with the toddler.
I use the phrase ‘spending time’ loosely.
If spending time means telling your two year old you need a few minutes more, like a hundred times.
If spending time means telling him to please not sit on Mama while the baby is nursing.
If spending time means interrupting his play time more times than I can count so that I can see what the baby needs.
If spending time means letting him have a one-hour bath so I can get the baby to sleep.
If spending time means pulling his hand away from the sleeping baby for the umpteenth time, pleading with him to not wake his brother up.
With two children, my love is multiplied. As is my joy. My heart is full.
I’m trying to be ‘all’ for both of them equally.
But it’s not equal. I have to put the baby first in most instances, and hope the toddler understands. And sometimes, the baby cries a few seconds longer because I’m in the middle of something with the toddler.
Yes, my heart is full, my love is multiplied. But I’m divided.
Experienced Mamas, any advice?