I am perched on the arm of a cushionless couch in what used to be my formal dining room. Now this space is a gated community for two crazed old babies. Yes, old babies. They walk, they run, they eat regular food, they explore and seem childish yet they are still babies. Still shitting their pants, still helpless, still needing constant surveillance. The fun never stops.
I am a stay-at-home mom of two boys in the third week of their 16 months on Earth, as my Baby Center weekly email recently pointed out. They're rocking 2T/3T, eating adult food in high chairs, sipping on whole milk from sippy cups and napping once a day. They aren't talking, although one of them is deep in the babbles. They sleep all night and party all day, including jumping off the couch in the play room - don't worry, couch cushions are strategically placed for the inevitable.
Who am I? An invisible peacekeeper in a messy French braid, smeared glasses, (clean!) sweatpants and T-shirt, sans bra, about to embark on my third cup of coffee. I console, I clean, I feed, I wash, I hug, I turn on Sesame Street or the sound machine, I give. No Bon Bons or daytime TV in sight. After the 9 to 5, I switch from Mommy Dearest to Adoring Wife with whatever energy I have left. Some days are better than others but all days are long.
I'm invisible but ever present for consoling and reassurance. Today is the same as yesterday and tomorrow.
