Throwing the White Flag of Surrender

I got my butt kicked this week. I was bested by two small boys, the flu, and increasing pregnancy discomfort and fatigue. At one point during the week, I texted to Jason: "I WANT MY MOM!" That's right - at 32 years old, feeling sick and out of my league, I was crying for my mother. It was humbling, to say the least.

I realize that I have sung my own praises quite a bit on this blog about my parenting skills, and my success as a single mom. It's true that I have 8 years of solo parenting experience, and I have raised a great kid so far. And when Jason left town on Monday morning, I was completely confident that I could run the show and the boys and I were going to have a great week. The two v. one ratio did not bother me in the least. They are children, and I Am Mom.

What I failed to completely grasp was that my experience raising ONE child did not prepare me in any way for raising TWO children (or three...OMG). In fact, it has given me an inflated (and false) sense of parenting prowess. After this week, my cockiness has been replaced by the sheepish acknowledgement that I don't know squat about fighting siblings, managing routines for two, accommodating different personalities, and a whole host of other issues that have come up.

In my defense, because I have to defend myself at least a little bit, I feel terrible. I have been sick all week long, and not functioning at my usual level. I would like to think that at optimum health and full steam and mobility, things would've gone better. Maybe, maybe not.

The snownami that trapped us inside for 48 endless hours was both a blessing and a curse. The blessing is that it provided the opportunity for me to stay at home and nurse one flu-ish boy and my own flu-ish self. But it also meant that we had more togetherness than any of us really wanted. My vision of lazy days snuggled up with the boys, playing games, watching movies, bonding, and sipping hot chocolate never really got off the ground. Instead, I was breaking up fights, handing out punishments, and talking-it-out from sunrise to sunset. I was refereeing disputes over personal property, wiping tears and noses, and dispensing medicine. I was desperately suggesting one activity after another, failing miserably to find anything that both boys were interested in doing. And I was getting knocked off of my parenting pedastal one bloody battle after another.

At one point, after being sent to his room for about the 10th time, Tanner wailed dramatically: "I'm getting in trouble more than I ever have in my life!!" And it's true. I've never punished Tanner more than I have in the past few weeks - it just wasn't needed. But now, with the introduction of a younger sibling, my well-behaved and compliant Only is totally ill-equipped. It's not his fault, or even mine. We just didn't have to deal with anyone but the two of us - that wasn't our life. And now we do.

Is this what it's like having multiple kids? Is it constant crisis management? Or is this just a necessary phase of adjustment that we're going through? Were the problems magnified by illness and snow or was that my new "normal?" I don't know the answers, but I do know that I did not enjoy my kids this week the way that I wanted to. There was very little fun, very little laughter, very little bonding, and that's not how I want my family to be. I don't want to spend my evenings counting down until bedtime when I can get rid of the little monsters for a few blessed hours of peace. I don't want to constantly bark at them. I want to spend more time loving on my kids than punishing them.

But how do you do that when there's more than one, and they are ALWAYS in trouble for something????????