Being a mother has made me appreciate time more. I used to be able to tell myself that, “It’s okay. That can wait.”
Now? Whatever “that” was, it must be done now. Fast. If that laundry must be washed and hung dry, do it. If that piece of food is on the floor, pick it up and dump it into the dustbin or the ants will reach faster than the kids.
If the kids are sleeping and I feel sleepy, sleep. If the kids are sleeping and I have a million things to be done, do them. Like eat that snack in the living room because I don’t feel like sharing with the elder kid.
So, just like that, the second kid is turning one. I have been much busier with this second child because she does a lot of things ever since she can crawl. Her crawling has gotten to the point that she can hold onto a toy and crawl on fours with the toy going “thud” with each crawl. I prefer to know that she is crawling and I can hear her.
If she goes quiet, then I start to worry if she is up to no good. I swear that she has this mantra in her head, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” She can climb up onto chairs and grin at me with pride. Her accomplishment, my heart attack.
I worry about the second one more at the moment because her adventures with climbing results in using Zambuk more than the elder one who was scared of pain. With the second child turning one, the first kid is now turning five.
Their birthdays are just days apart, the first in Nov and the second in Dec. The years have passed by and I miss the time I was holding the first one. When I spend a one to one time with the elder kid, she was being her true self, obedient and doing what I said.
With the second kid, it is utter chaos. Nobody listen to anybody. I suspect that jealousy is playing a hand here. I’ve started thinking about drinking wine and coffee (mocha latte is the top choice here).
