I’m not a very good Daycare Lady just now.
Turns out in the homestretch before giving birth, I don’t like being touched. By anyone. (Except Hubs, but while I know he loves me very much and is anxious for things to get back to normal if you know what I mean, I am the first one to admit that my naked body right now is a veiny, leaky, swollen mess that doesn’t really invite lustful thoughts in anyone.)
You know what’s hard? Looking after very young children while not being touched ever.
Yeah, I feel like a big jerk. But Pixie right now is going through some kind of clingy lovey stage, and she just wants to be held against my chest like a baby orangutan and rocked. Forever. Which would be fine except my belly is now measuring big (36″ + at my 35 week appointment) and since I’m only 5 feet tall when I sit down I have no chest. She scrambles up like a demented koala and perches on top of the belly with her long skinny legs dangling on either side. This is quite painful, not to mention acid-reflux-inducing. And the baby doesn’t like it. But if I try to put her down or even shift her to a different position, she sobs like I pulled every hair out of her head. So there is that.
Monkey is wearing me out hardcore this week. She’s decided that sharing is for losers with a capital L. She’s also suddenly, after coming here for over a year now, discovered that the books come off the bookcase at the end of the hall. And then the dust jackets come off the books! Holy shit, it’s a cornucopia of multi-faceted mess-making!!
VQB is throwing many tantrums, which is odd for him because after all, tantrums require a voice. Although he’s finding his more every day and will soon need a new name, because he does talk now (still quietly!) but he also sings one line of one song I’m unfamiliar with over and over again forever, puts his hands on his hips and lectures Monkey a dozen times a day, and when all else fails bursts into overly-dramatic tears and storms from the room.
Arthur is not adjusting well to the new baby, in that he says he loves her and she’s very cute, but he cries over really silly things now which he never did before, and also can’t wrap his head around being here when both of his parents are home. Also his mom couldn’t commit to a regular part-time schedule – say, two specific days a week – and instead asked if she could drop him off for the odd day here and there. Um, no. So he’s only actually coming until Dec. 23rd, but they haven’t told him yet.
And finally Marie, who is settling in a little more each day but still is the highest-maintenance of the bunch, because when she is even slightly cranky or overtired she is impossible to entertain. Nothing holds her attention for long. And she’s past master at flopping on the floor and sighing loudly, and on one memorable occasion wailing “Ima just gonna be bo-wed (bored) an’ homesick FO-EVAH!” because even though she’s three she’s got this very twee way of talking that sounds like a made-up kid from an ABC sitcom.
I suspect 90% of this is due to Christmas coming and they all know it. The other 10% is because I just simply don’t have the mental or physical energy to engage them as much as I’d like (or as much as they’re used t0). It’s a bad combination.
The good news is I do actually have the week between Christmas & New Year’s off (well, mostly. Marie is coming one day instead of three. Everyone else is staying home). I had to basically pay them to keep them home by agreeing to not charge for that week if they didn’t use it – making it a pretty pricey gift for me & my family – but worth every penny. I had kids here during that week last year and it sucked balls. I couldn’t visit anyone. No one wanted to visit me. My kids were mad because they wanted to play with their new toys but not share them yet (completely understandable). The extra kids were mad because they wanted to be home playing with their new toys. And Hubs & I just wanted to relax and wear pajamas.
So in essence, we are all counting down to December 23rd. In the meantime, I’m making sure other people’s children are fed, clean, napped, and safe.
Anything else, they are kind of on their own.