romanticalities

Yesterday was one of those stressful night/mornings that made me swear I would never have another child. (I know this is a normal feeling for a mother of a 2 year old and a newborn, but still). I was starting yet another day exhausted, and I was grumpy. The baby was barfing down my shirt, which pooled into my bra, whilst Mason was having his first tantrum because I wouldn't let him color the furniture. I was depleted from a sleepless night, feeling anything but pretty. Simon was his usual chipper self, and in an attempt to lighten my spirits, leaned over and said,

"Guess what."

"Don't say it."

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm not ready for it."

"Can I say it after work?"

"We'll see."

The poor boy only wanted to wish me a happy anniversary. I wanted our anniversary to be a special day and so far it was turning out to be a greasy, whiny, poohy mess. Last year I forgot it was our anniversary so I guess it's a step up from that. After Simon left, I realized that 2 kids in 3 years of marriage is a lot to handle, and I shouldn't expect anything extravagant. I called a sitter and begged her to come over for the rest of the day, and felt much better. Simon was able to come home early, so we walked together down the street with the baby- on our way for some head and neck massages, that we would take turns getting. It was just a block away, but that walk together was so nice. We held hands and it was the first warm evening in London. I would have never suspected that a simple walk down the block would have fulfilled my anniversarial dreams. Maybe it was just some peace I was craving.

As I lay there, trying to ignore the fact that the chinese man rubbing my shoulders had long fingernails and kept swallowing his phlegm, I thought about that morning. If someone had shown me that morning before I had gotten married, it would have scared me. I would have thought- How could you let yourself go like that? And -You look terrible-why can't you get that baby to sleep? And -Your house is a disaster; when did you stop caring? Back when I was young and foolish to the ways of motherhood, I swore I would never become a sloppy person with a messy house who can never find her keys. That's easy to say when you make your own working hours and sleep in until 10:30 every day, only to stroll to brunch. Then taking your time to preen yourself, before going out to do whatever you want until whenever you feel like it. Oh, and with a perfect little body you never have to work for.

I know it sounds like I'm complaining. I am. I'm just saying it like it is.

But, looking at the same morning from the other side, having seen everything that came before it, I wouldn't change anything. I would still want the same tiny flat in our great neighborhood. I would still want my mason and my roman as early as they came. I would still want to raise them myself, rather than pay someone else to do it. Which means I want baby Romes to be barfing over my shoulder, because I'm the one who loves him the most. I want to be the one helping Mason learn that tantrums aren't the answer, because no one will be more patient with him than I. And he probably needs my attention more than anyone else's anyway.

There were no gifts exchanged. Just some peanut butter cookies and a movie on the couch. We've packed 5 years worth of travel, business and babies into 3 years, which means we have 2 bonus years to chill out. Bring them on.