O zi din viața mea de mamă de Domniță și Prunc

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A fost o perioadă în care eram doar eu și el. Apoi a apărut ea. Și la 2 ani ai ei a apărut și el.
Amândoi sunt mici acum, ea are 2 ani și 3 luni și el 6 săptămâni.

Cum este? E greu, e ușor? Sunt cuminți?

Ei bine, fiecare zi e cu de toate. Avem în meniu râsete, plânsete, miorlăieli din alea enervante, țipete, chicote de râs molipsitoare, fericire.

Eu stau cu ei majoritatea timpului, el-tatăl lucrează de la 8 dimineața până la 7-8 seara, când îl sun să-i reamintesc cât e ceasul:) Ajutor avem la nevoie, bunicii sunt aproape. Pe el mi se pare greu să-l las, îl alăptez la cerere. Uneori vrea la 2 ore, alteori din 15 în 15 minute.

Cum se desfașoară o zi din viața noastră în perioada asta?

Păi, ziua începe devreme, sunt multe de făcut, nu? Micuțul se trezește de obicei între 5.30 -6.00 dimineața. Mănâncă, îl schimb, povestim, zâmbim și gângurim amândoi. În jur de ora 7.30-8.00 îl ia somnul și atunci începem gimnastica, dansul și ce mai e nevoie să adoarmă Pruncul.

Între timp se trezește și Domnița care imediat cere mâncare. Uneori el doarme când se trezește ea și atunci mă pot ocupa 100% doar de ea și de dorințele ei. Ne pupăm, ne îmbrățișăm, admirăm soarele sau ploaia, mâncăm și ne facem planul pentru ziua în curs. Daca avem noroc, reușim să facem toate astea în timp ce Pruncul doarme. Dacă nu, cu el într-o mână acoperim tot ce am scris mai sus.

Pe la 9.30 suntem afară. Mergem să mai rezolvam una alta de pe lista noastră și apoi fuga în parc unde Domnița se dă pe tobogan și lucreaza intens nisipul: face castel, forme cu pesti, broaște și rațe sau și-l pune pe ea. Între timp Pruncul doarme sau cere să fie alaptat, ne retragem în parc pe o bancă și rezolvăm și necesitățile lui.

La 12 plec din parc cu ei și mergem acasă. Ea e deja obosită, dar insistă să mai stăm, abia merge înspre casă, pe la etajul 2 îmi zice că nu mai poate. Mă grăbesc să-i dau să mănânce, știu că urmează o criza dacă îi e foame tare și nu sunt pe fază. El se trezește când ajungem acasă și iși cere și el porția de mâncare. Deseori stau cu el la sân și cu ea la masă de pranz.

Urmează somnul de prânz. Ei bine, asta este o întreagă aventură. Aici nici o zi nu seamănă cu alta, totul este diferit. Domnița adoarme în patul ei, el la mine în brațe cu bâțâieli, dansuri și alte mișcări.
Se întamplă ca el să doarmă când trebuie să o culc pe ea și atunci e simplu, ea e toată a mea, sau mai corect eu sunt toata a ei.
Sunt situații în care el nu doarme, e mârâit, nu-i convine nimic. Atunci îl leg de mine în sling, pe ea încerc să o conving să stea în patuțul ei și eu fac dansul somnului lângă patul ei. Șoptim, povestim, dar și dansez în timpul asta pentru ca el și ea să adoarmă.

Acum urmează un moment de hoinăreală pentru mine, doar eu. Copiii, finally dorm. Încerc să face ceva ce-mi place, dar am pe listă și chestiuni gospodărești: gătit, haine la spălat, strâns haine uscate, etc. Le știți și voi pe astea. Hoinăreala asta durează uneori 15 minute, alteori o oră. Câteodată abia aștept să se trezească Pruncii mei, altădată mă rog să mai doarmă măcar 5 minute.

Domnița doarme o oră jumătate sau două ore și, după ce se trezește, mănâncă o gustare și ieșim din nou afară. Mergem la sat unde dă de mâncare la gaini, aduce gâștele acasă, desface porumb, strange flori, aleargă pe câmp. Pruncul se bucura de mine, de brațele mele, de somn afară și de lapte mult de la sân.

Pe la 7.30 apare și el-sotul. Ma șimt ușurată. Mâncăm și apoi intram în programul de seară. Primul la baie e Pruncul. Participă și ea, îl spală pe cap, pe burtă, pe piciorușe. De câte ori îl vede gol îmi spune:”Ooo, ce puță mare are!”.

Eu îl adorm pe el. Dacă reușesc rapid, atunci tot eu fac baie și cu ea. Intrăm amândouă la duș și ne spălăm. Dacă Pruncul nu doarme, atunci el-soțul se ocupă de asta.
Urmează îmbrăcatul ei, laptele și pe la 21.30 adoarme.

Acum e liniște! Și o savurăm din plin. Acum stăm la povești, facem planuri și ne bucurăm de tot ce avem.

Noaptea e ușoara: ea se trezește pe la 2-3 să mai ceară o sticla de lapte și el se trezește de vreo 2 ori, dar mănâncă și adoarme la loc. Nu trebuie să mai fac dansul somnului.

Și apoi o luăm de la capat.

Uite așa arată o zi normală din viața noastră. Sigur, mai sunt și excepții: câte o zi cu plânsete și frustrări de-ale Domniței că abia ne înțelegem. Atunci răbdarea mea depășește cotele Dunării și încerc să o înțeleg pe ea, să mă întreb unde am greșit eu, și să încerc sa schimb pe viitor.

În concluzie, viața cu doi copii e provocatoare și superbă! Da, e și greu în unele momente, dar bucuria de a vedea cum ea îl pupă pe el, cum îl alintă „buburuză”, „furnicuță”” și alte animăluțe, cum îi duce jucăriile ei pe care cândva îmi spunea că nu le dă, cum mă strânge în brațe și mă strigă cu ochii în lacrimi „haide, mama!”, cum e el ca o gogoașă pufoasă de-ți vine să-l mănânci, cum zâmbește când mă vede și mă aude și-mi gângurește cum numai el știe.

Viața e minunată!

Andreea
Mama Domniței și a Pruncului

Sursa foto preview: arhiva personală

20 Comments

  1. Lacramioara

    Ce frumos ai scris. De acord cu tine, viata e grea dar si frumoasă cu doi copii

  2. Nu știu noi dacă ne vom face curaj pentru încă unul. Ni se pare incredibil de greu si cu o singură bucată…
    Super că reușești toate cele povestite mai sus singură.
    Sa va trăiască şi să fiți fericiți!
    P.S. wow, mai bea lapte noaptea la 2 ani? Suna foarte obositor…

  3. Paula

    Dap, exact asa e si la noi. Distractie continua 🙂

  4. Lola

    Ha ha asta e realitatea! Un articol funny

    Before I was a mum I never knew there could be such joy in some of life’s daily chores. I look back on those halcyon baby-free years and wonder how I ever said I was tired, or busy, or had cleaning to do. It all pales into insignificance compared to the crazy whirlwind of parenting.

    But things I never really paid much attention to are now joyous moments of sheer bliss I mostly ignored, or even were irritated by before I had children:

    1. A trip to the dentists or doctors (without children). Sitting in the waiting room reading two-year-old magazines. Brilliant. Guilt-free enforced sitting on my bum. Can’t get enough. Even better if the surgery is running late. Glorious. Another dog-eared copy of Prima from 2002, don’t mind if I do.

    2. Hand-dryers in public toilets. Stay with me on this one. My children hate them. Proper tears rolling down faces and screaming because they hurt their ears. Horrible for them, but so is the dripping wet hands we all have after washing them. I genuinely took pleasure in a Dyson Airblade on a public toilet stop without the kids the other day. Small pleasures!

    3. Food shopping. With children obviously this is pretty much torture, but without, it’s zen. I can leisurely go up and down the aisles picking up products, having a little look and moving on. I can even browse the home section or clothes. Before kids it was a chore and I found it boring. I didn’t see the true pleasure until now.

    4. Hairdressers. Never a fan before children for fear of scissor-happy hipster hairdressers who had over ambitious plans for my ultra fine locks. Post children and it’s an event in my life. I plan the childcare, I venture off out and know I am committed to two or more hours of sitting on my big booty and zoning out. Bliss. (Top tip – I even start off the appointment with “I just love coming to the hairdressers so I can sit and read magazines and not talk.” Stops any holiday chit chat dead in its tracks!)

    5. A meal with my husband. You’d think living together I’d enjoy this every day. Before I had children it was fine, but I never gave it the full credit it deserved. Now we’re lucky if a meal together isn’t bombarded with sticky hands leaning across and touching our clothes, food on the floor or “can I have a X, Y, Z” as soon as we’ve sat down.

    6. The dark. Never a big fan. Now laying in a dark room is like the best Christmas present ever.

    7. Sleep. And if that moment of darkness is followed by eight giddy hours of sleep I’ve pretty much reached my nirvana in life.

    8. Drinking a hot drink (while it’s still hot). How much time have I wasted making and leaving cups of coffee to get cold. When will babies and toddlers just hold in that poo/vomit/desire to put themselves in life-threatening danger so I can just enjoy a cuppa. I never realised how amazing a cup of coffee was until I couldn’t freely enjoy one.

    9. Solo toilet trips. You know what I mean. They’re there, on your lap, wanting a cuddle or screaming to find out where you are. Just. Leave. Me. Alone. For. Five. Minutes.

    10. Quiet. As a loud, shouty person it feels weird saying this, as I used to hate being quiet, or being in places of quiet. But children are so loud, their toys are loud, the TV is loud, they bash things together and that’s loud. They cry, which is loud. Waaaaaaaah. So now, rather than wanting to inject noise, I relish the peace. Shhhhh people.

  5. andreuta

    wau.ti a spus cineva azi ca esti o mama minunata,ca te descurci extraordinar chiar si mom de oboseala crunta?eu cred ca toata energia pe care ei ne o consuma ne o dau inapoi inzecit.si mai cred ca desi uneori chiar e greu,noi toate mamele care putem sta acasa cu kinderii,o luna, 1 an sau 2 sutntem norocose.desi pare un stereotip,traiam degeaba cand nu aveam copii.sa ti traiasca puiutii ssa ai putere sa ii cresti

    • Carmen T

      Cand o aud pe asta cu trăim degeaba cand nu avem copii…Nu, eu nu simt deloc ca am trait degeaba cat nu l-am avut pe A. Viata era plină, frumoasă si plină de sensuri si inainte de copil

    • Julie

      Avem filozofii de viata diferite. Daca ei i se pare ca nu a trait asa frumos cand nu avea copii, cu ce te deranjeaza pe tine?
      Si eu am trait super inainte sa am copil, dar asta nu inseamna ca nu pot sa respect o alta parere sau o alta viziune

    • mack

      foloseşte „trăiam” după ce vorbeşte de noi, mamele. deci pare că se referă la plural, nu la ea personal. cred că de-aia sună jignitor, pentru că pare o generalizare.

    • Cristian

      „traiam degeaba cand nu aveam copii”
      Nu aveam – adica vorbeste despre ea insasi.

    • mack

      sau „nu aveam”, noi.

    • Andreea

      Nu este doar un stereotip, este o afirmație simplistă și jignitoare.

    • klau

      Deja îmi și imaginez o discuție cu copilul care vine de la grădiniță supărat că nu i-a ieșit desenul așa cum și-l imaginase : da’ lasă desenul mamă, că nu e important, oricum îl faci degeaba! Chiar mi se pare trist că mulți oameni îi grăbesc pe copii să treacă mai repede peste anumite etape, când de fapt tocmai etapele astea ne formează. Am citit acum câțiva ani pe facebook un status al unei eleve de liceu care era supărată că se certase cu cea mai bună prietenă și o tânără de 25 de ani căsătorită și care avea și un copil i-a spus că nu astea sunt lucrurile importante, ci că e important să ai casă și copii.

  6. irina

    Si la noi viata e minunata in patru. Printul Radu are 2 ani si 7 luni si printesa Diana aproape 3 luni. Programul meu zilnic este foarte asemanator, iar seara multumim lui Dumnezeu cat de binecuvantati suntem!

  7. Mira 2

    Asta cu „ce puta mare are” mi se pare totusi cam nepotrivita .

  8. Lola

    O analiza cinstita si corecta scrisa de un tata nu compuneri de clasa a patra….Fiti corecte, nu trebuie sa spuneti cu voce tare ca nu da bine dar puteti citi. Este o analiza scrisa de un barbat responsabil.

    July 24 at 5:19pm · Edited ·
    Permission to get SHOCKINGLY real about parenting small kids?
    It’s hard. Much harder than you can imagine. Much much harder.
    A few months ago a friend of mine who is a professional therapist said, ‘A family with a kid under the age of 3 is in crisis mode.’ At first I thought that was a bit negative. Upon reflection, I conclude they’re right.
    Yesterday someone said to me, ‘My youngest just turned 4. I am starting to think we might be coming out of it. ’ I didn’t need to ask what ‘it’ was. She clearly meant the chaos. The crisis. The crazy zone.
    My experience confirms that parenting infants and toddlers puts you under a kind of constant pressure that lttle else in life comes close to matching. To be fair, Julie and my situation of having five kids aged six and under only compounds this reality, but treat me as a magnification of what is still there for parents of fewer kids. (Besides, I know, I once had fewer kids.)
    Of course there’s more to parenting nascent ones than it being hard. That’s what all the photos on Facebook are about – the sweetest things in the world, they are. Your heart walking around in someone else’ body. I get that, and it keeps me going.
    However, in this post I thought I would get real about the (dark) side we don’t talk about. It’s no good running a marathon, and you’re doing uphill and you’re trying to tell yourself this is wonderful. Facing the fact of the agonizing incline is necessary if you’re going to make it.
    As for those parents whose kids are all four+, looking back from your hard-earned view, it’s amazing how you tend to forget the pain. (One aspect of trauma is that you tend to forget the event itself, a kind of self-protective amnesia, I think.)
    Would you mind if I get VERY REAL? Just so that I never forget, and maybe to help those of you who think something’s wrong with you as you suffer the little ones.
    Here goes. Julie and I are experiencing the PHYSICAL strain of parenting. We’re exhausted. In the last two weeks, I get about 5 to 6 hours of sleep per night, but here’s the catch: it’s broken by the need to get out of bed and deal with a crying or calling kid, usually about 5 to 10 times per night.
    One reason is their need for constant re-assurance. On this point, a curse be upon the inventor of the Pacifier! Our little suckers fall asleep more easily with those suckable things in their mouths, but by the time they’re 8 months they have formed a dependency on them, and every time it falls out of their mouths they wake and cry, lost in the universe. Do the maths on how many times per night a wriggling infant might lose their dummy. While writing this (5:30-7am) I ran through 11 times to put dummies back. Who’s the real dummy?
    Other things wake our kids. At 4:30am this morning I got head-butted by my sweet lullaby of a 2-year old Ivy as she was waking up out of a nightmare. Unsatisfied that I was not-the-Mama, she ran down the dark passageway shouting for Julie, waking up the other kids. It’s impossible to fall asleep any time soon after that kind of ill-treatment from someone I love. (By the way, this assault provoked me to write this post an hour later.) Perhaps the sleeplessness is the real, foundational problem: all the other strains would be more manageable if our bodies and brains weren’t yearning for the unconscious state. Thankfully, we can grab an afternoon nap. Not.
    And sickness. You know those new viruses that sweep the globe every year? I have to admit the original viral mutation happens in my house. Families with little kids can turn an ordinary flu that would set back a single person a few days, into a plague that loops through our entire family, two or three times – lasting a month on average, sinking us parents into our own mini-Great Depression. (Sick kids wake up a lot more, and sick parents need sleep if they are to shake off the virus they got from their kids.) In the last five years I have got more colds, flu’s and tummy bugs than in the preceding decade.
    We have endured the FINANCIAL strain of parenting. Having kids necessitated that Julie and I fork out enough, not all at once thankfully, for a home more suitable for a family (bigger, garden, near a decent school), a bigger car, Mon-Fri domestic and child-care assistance and (gulp!) educational fees. Then there’s medical bills. For example, little Charlie (10 months) has cost us about 5k in doctor’s bills and medicines over the last 3 months. Next week he goes in for surgery to get grommets.
    There’s also more mouths to feed. I spoke to a single dad in the beach-front parking lot of my surf spot the other day. He has one kid. He said, ‘Terran, I just got back from the shop. I am shocked by how much it costs to feed my little family. How on earth do you feed yours?’ Good question. By the time they’re two they’re eating almost as much as I do on some occasions. All these new costs are often augmented by a diminished income. In our case, Julie’s earning power went down (up till now she’s been a pay-by-the-job, part-time freelancer) at the very moment our costs escalated. That’s pressure.
    There’s the MARITAL strain of parenting. On our better days Julie and I team together like Batman and Robin, but on our more stressed days, we turn on each other. Beat down people tend to beat others down if they’re not very careful. In the nights, we keep count of how many times we got out of bed, and when our number is higher, ‘gently’ nudge the other person who is pretending to be sleeping through the baby cry. By day, we play the ‘who is suffering more’ card, and sometimes have a go at each other verbally in front of these not-yet-pyschologically-scarred kids. Yes, we know how damaging it is upon a young child’s psyche to see mom and dad at each other. But the guilt doesn’t have power to stop the bickering.
    This paragraph for the guys: there’s also little and sometimes weeks of no sex. Since it’s public knowledge that Julie and I have had sex at least five times (once on our honeymoon night, and four times for our five kids, the last arrow splitting into two), I feel the liberty to make this point. No seriously, pregnancy means less sex. Birth-recovering and breast-feeding moms (sorry Julie, I don’t know what other words to use) means no sex. The smells and sights related to changing nappies and wiping toilet-training bums mitigates against the daylong foreplay-messages that spice up a marriage. Stress and exhaustion work against one’s sexual capacities. As for the rare moments when the stars align, I am thankful that the Flight of the Conchords are right: two minutes in heaven really is better than no minutes in heaven.
    There’s the SOCIAL strain. Friendships go into maintenance-mode. We have hardly anyone round. For all kinds of reasons: our house is a mess, we will be embarrassed if people glimpsed the real chaos of our lives, we keep telling ourselves that on the day we stabilize we will open diaries and think who to invite over for a meal. Would you be my friend?
    There’s the SPIRITUAL strain. Maybe you can’t relate, but since I was a teen, early mornings have been a sacred time for me to tune into God so that I can keep sensitive to his promptings and stay within reach of his power and guidance throughout the day. Now that I need this kind of spiritual alertness and empowering more than ever, I seldom get the time that I need. I know God understands and loves me anyway. But I also know that not spending this daily time with God tends to put me out of frequency with the Spirit’s energies and nudges, setting me up for yet further stress-inducing errors of judgment and lapses of sanity.
    There’s PROFESSIONAL strain. In the last decade, I have had two notably under-performing years in my work-life. My lack of sharpness has been evidenced in emails not responded to quickly enough, under-preparedness for critical meetings, increased strain from less quality attention to fellow-workers, and a tendency to lose composure when leading people requires that I stay calm. Those two years just happen to be the ones that immediately followed the birth of my third, and now the birth of my twins. (Would you let a pilot fly you if you knew he was bottle-feeding one baby, while trying to tame a volcanic tantrum in a toddler running amok in the cockpit, threatening to push ‘eject’? My policy: smile and wave boys.)
    There’s LOGISTICAL strain. Our house is a mess almost all the time. Julie and I who are not A-type when it comes to neatness, but we start to come undone with the constant mess. Trying to keep a kid-inhabited house tidy is like trying to shovel snow while it snows. As for leaving house as a family: for every kid you have, add another 30 minutes to get-ready time. (For our first few months after the twins came, I was okay with us not having a car big enough for seven. I thought to myself, ‘Where can we go with this many kids? And when we get there, what will we do?’ So we just stayed at home.)
    Air travel is another story. The fact that kids under-2 fly free makes bargain-hunters like me want to capitalize upon this fleeting opportunity. Bait for us fools. We just flew our family to another part of the country. It was as simple as one, two, three. One day of packing. Two cars to take us to the airport. Three tons of stuff. You have never seen people in a plane praying as much as when we queue in. ‘God, please no! Not next to me! No.’) When I notice enough people doing the count, and mouthing a silent ‘five’ to the person they just elbowed, I usually break the ice with one of my two jokes: ‘Yes, everyone. There are five! Our TV was broken.’ Or, ‘Who’s the lucky person who gets to sit next to us?’ The cabin laughter at that moment helps us all for what is about to happen in the next two hours.
    There’s EMOTIONAL strain. Parenting introduces a panoply of negative emotions that are new to the lifetraveller: new fears and anxieties, feelings of inadequacy, the crippling curse of comparison, and post-natal depression for some moms.
    In my view the most emotion-intensifying thing about family life is that we tend to absorb each other’s emotions. If we were all emotionally self-contained units, that would be easier. But as it is, every tantrum and tear and sibling-tiff emits an emotional toxin that the try-hard parents tend to take into their tender hearts. Our kids bounce back remarkably, but we parents, the emotional filters, are left with the residue. Keeping your head while all those around you lose theirs is easier said that done. I once came across a best-selling book on parenting titled ‘Keep calm and parent on.’ It’s one of those titles that say so much, you don’t need to read the book. That title is probably the best advice there is. But also the most unachievable advice there is. It’s like telling a person who is tumbling down a mountainside to keep calm and enjoy the ride.
    My point? Parenting the youngest of humanity is not for the fainthearted. It’s brutal at times. It’s incessant in its challenges. To complicate it all, these strains – physical, social, financial, spiritual, etc – have a domino-effect, one causing or exacerbating the other. The result: life in a fully fledged crisis mode. A trauma being inflicted in slow motion.
    It’s true. Parents of little lives are in nose-dive.
    I don’t want to sound like I am complaining. Some of you have it much harder. I think of parents who lose their income, or single parents, or kids with severe disabilities. You guys are the masters of the universe. We are in awe of you. Some of you don’t have it as hard. The thing so many parents say to us is, ‘You know, when Lee and I are freaking out as parents, we think of you with five, and that helps us. So thank you!’ Glad we could help.
    Do I have any perspective to share for the fellow-traumatized? Other than ‘Keep calm and parent on’? For starters, one thing I can say: You Are Not The Only One. Parenting is hard for almost all of us. The other thing I can say is that You Are Not Alone. A small verse hidden in the massive book of Isaiah says ‘God carries us close to his heart, especially those who have young’. It has helped Julie and me when we’ve been at our lowest. It reminds us there’s a Parent in heaven who’s there for you as you parent another. Our vulnerability, as we rear the most vulnerable, catches the loving attention of One Above. We might feel alone, but in reality there’s a Heartbeat as close to you as your child is to yours.
    (Permission given to share with the so-journers who can identify.)

    • Printesa Urbana

      Lola, imi poti spune si sursa acestui text, te rog?

    • Cristian

      Este evident ca tipul are muuult timp liber, probabil si bani ca sa poata scrie aceasta betie de cuvinte.

      Acum 100 de ani, parintii cu 5, 6 sau 7 copii nu cred ca aveau aceste idei „moderne” in cap, pur si simplu isi cresteau copiii si mergeau inainte, fara sa scrie mii de cuvinte pe bloguri cat de oprimati sunt ei social, emotional, spiritual si logistic?!?!

    • Carmen T

      Cristian, viata era mult mai dura acum o suta de ani, dura intr-un sens in care putini oameni din ziua de azi sunt constienti. Mortalitatea infantilă era groaznic de mare, comparativ cu zilele noastre. Un an secetos insemna dezastru, pur si simplu nu aveau ce pune pe masă. Iar copii se cresteau mai mult unii pe altii, in familiile sărace, iar in cele bogate, doici, bone si profesori angajati de familie. Oamenii nu isi permiteau „luxul” sa-si analizeze trairile, emotionale, spirituale si logistice. viata avea un fir cat de poate de concret, dictat de ritmurile agrare in principal. Dar mie mi se pare minunat ca traiesc intr)un timp in care imi pot pune atâtea întrebări

    • Laura

      Are mult timp liber că nu poate dormi din cauza odraslelor care se scoală pe rând. A și explicat omul când a apucat să scrie. Nu văd ce legătură are cu banii, însă.

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