Today, I reached my max.
I am officially touched out.
It’s been nearly a month since I have been alone for longer than a few minutes. I (usually) manage a shower alone every day, but otherwise, Boo is with me. As a young nursling, it’s understood, but the thing is… it’s not her.
It’s the big one.
At least, it is today. I think my tolerance for being touched and needed all the time just happened to reach its max today and, for whatever reason, P will not get off of me. Literally. She’s following me around. Climbing into my lap. Shoving herself between the baby and I. Touching me. Petting me. Running her face into my butt when I stop walking because she is thisclose behind me at all times.
I can’t even escape her to nurse the little one down for a nap.
No, that looked like this this morning:
I may look happy, but I'm not smiling on the inside.
I’m struggling to get through the day today without feeling like The Worst Mom in the World. It poured rain all morning so I couldn’t take her a playground to run around and, even if I could have, she would’ve requested I join her (have I mentioned recently how desperately we need to find this social kid some friends already?). So we were home, trying to keep busy. We drew pictures and did some art. We made a fort out of a sheet and some dining room chairs. I tried to get her to play in it, encouraging her to host a dinner part for some of her Guys (stuffed animals), but no.
“Mommy, you play, too! Come play, mommy!”
She wandered the kitchen getting into things for a while. She asked what the mortar & pestle were, so I explained then sat her down with some cloves and set her to grinding. That lasted a little while and the kitchen smelled great after. But then she was back at me.
I mean, on me.
I even busted out some macaroni and yarn and we made bracelets. But, again. That’s, what? A 15 minute activity?
Through all of this, the baby mostly sat on the floor, working so hard at trying to get on her hands and knees. I tried to nurse her down for a morning nap on several occasions with no luck (see photo above). I spent a lot of time waiting around for her morning explosion thinking maybe that would settle her stomach and allow her to sleep. Nope. She did eventually take a morning nap, but was up laughing and giggling just twenty minutes later.
All the while, P was climbing up my butt.
I could’ve turned on the tv and sat P in front of it like a Zombie, but I’ve been a bit sick the last two days so we’ve done more than enough of that for the week.
Instead, I found myself literally shooing her away.
“Can I get just ONE MINUTE alone please, P? Just one minute. Just please. Don’t. Touch. Me.”
Usually this was followed with a running hug smash into my arms and adoring statemetns like, “But I loooooove you, mommy, and want to take care of you because you have a hard time today and you need to get rid of your tiny ugly germs.” Then she would pat my face, turn around, and happily settle into my lap while my skin crawled and it took all I had not to yell, “I LOVE YOU, TOO, BUT OMG JUST GET OFFFFFFFF OF ME!”
See why I feel like the Worst Mom in the World today?
Clearly the solution to my problem is to get some meaningful time away. I don’t mean a weekend trip or anything; all I need is a couple of hours alone, not being touched, not being needed, doing something I want to do. Like finish my DONA paperwork, make plans for my birth work future in Chicagoland, continue networking for freelance gigs, write, stare at the wall. Whatever. It just needs to be kid-free.
Fortunately, I have a supportive partner in all this. Now all I have to do is find my pump and head out the door. With all the boxes still left unpacked, that’s not going to be as easy as it seems.
