I'm a bloggin' fool. This is my 100th entry. Who'd have thunk it, way back when I started my first blog (and then my second and fifth and what number is this one?) that I'd stick with it long enough to actually have 100 posts. I'm growing.
I'm finding myself in a strange place in life. The patience I've always prided myself in having is wearing thin. I'm an emotional wreck most days and frustration, tiredness, impatience and general crankiness seem to creep in almost daily.
It's been suggested that much of this is due to my dad's illness and passing catching up to me. I've spent so much time focused on helping the kids learn to adjust and helping my mom cope that I've neglected to take the time to grief properly myself and I'm sure that's probably true. I dream about him almost every night.
I'm also feeling the effects of mothering not just a toddler but a boy toddler. I've been around the block before but I'm older and before having a son I would have argued the nature vs nurture theory until I was blue in the face, in favor of the latter, because, after all, before Connor was born we used to joke that Mary behaved like the boy we never had. How entirely foolish was I? Let me count the ways. Connor is so boy in his behaviours, his interests and his development. And it's not due to nurture because he is being raised the same way the girls were. (dollies, strollers, dress up shoes and all.)
And all that aside one of his first words was bus. He is also the only child I've had that I've had to lock doors and install countless safety devices for. He climbs, he wrestles and he throws just about anything he can pick up. And by 7:30 when I'm putting him to bed I am worn out.
Add to this the distinct pleasure of having two toddlers in the daycare. My days are spent with two other 15 month olds, both who are teething and one who is a little high needs. Needless to say this adds to my stress level.
I could take heart in knowing that both of the toddlers mom's will be going on mat leave next spring which will mean they are both reducing their daycare hours. And to celebrate this, I signed on a new client, a 13 month old to start in January.
It's not all bad. I have the day off on Friday and though I'm supposed to go for my yearly physical I'm going to go shopping instead. Therapy for a tired mind and soul.
And I'm sure on Monday I'll feel better. But if not, there's always beer.