This is part 3 in a 7 part series. Click here to go to Part 1.
Single parents deserve a medal. I’d suggest they need a public holiday, but they’d just end up working it while the rest of us took it off, anyway.
I’m not going to lie: it’s been a hell of a week.
The birth was a story in itself and took a lot out of our whole family, but, wrecked or not, we’re parents. Again.
Now we have a newborn and a two-year-old.
Becoming a parent the first time was tough, obviously, but the second time has been a step further again. “Next-level,” as the cool kids would say.
The first time around, when Charlotte decided to sleep, we got a break. We were exhausted, but at least there were moments we could achieve even the most mundane of tasks, such as emptying the dishwasher. Good God; it just occurred to me what life would be like without the dishwasher.
This time, when Jono sleeps, we still have a toddler running around requiring what’s left of our energy.
The difference was evident even before Jono and Sarah came home from the hospital. Before, I just had to look after the dog and the house before heading to the hospital each day. This time I had to play single-parent to Charlotte, look after the dog and the house, and work out hospital visits that fitted with Charlotte’s – and Sarah and Jono’s – sleep times.
Don’t get me wrong: Charlotte truly is an amazing, independent and beautiful little girl who is the furthest thing from high-maintenance you could get, but she still requires the care and attention of any toddler.
The truth is I didn’t handle the first few days well. It felt life had turned in a split second from serene into an engulfing maelstrom, determined to plunge all around it into chaos.
Sarah was amazing throughout, not only coping with what she went through, but also supporting her husband, who was clearly struggling. In her words: “You’ve seemed like you’ve been in crisis management mode this week”.
And that was fair.
I’m happy to report that as we approach the end of Week 2, it’s all going much better. But it was a tough grind for a few days there, because much like Charlotte threw-out our “young married couple” routines, Jono has thrown-out our “young parents” routines.
And whenever anyone’s routines get thrown out, life gets more challenging.
On the positive side, adapting has happened much quicker this time around. It probably took months – at least weeks – with Charlotte. With Jono, it’s taken just days for us to find a groove that makes life workable.
A few days ago, though, that feeling seemed 25 years and two moves-out-of-home away.
Let me give you an example.
Sarah was well-prepared in the lead-up to the birth and had frozen several meals (yeah, I’m lucky to have her, I know) so on the first night after returning from the hospital and having the whole family together, we decided to defrost the taco mix for some burritos.
Easy, stress-free meal to end a stress-full day. That’s not a spelling error; it’s deliberately hyphenated. It was not a day with a stressful moment, but a day full of stress.
Dinner was served up and just as we sat down to eat, Jono began crying, needing a feed, requiring Sarah to put her plate down and go into action.
Charlotte then proceeded to have a meltdown. She was tired and wanted to get the new stool (we bought a two-step stool so that she could watch nappy-changes and feel a part of it all) out of the nursery to sit on.
My insistence that, “No, Charlotte, the stool stays in the nursery”, was like emptying a Santa sack of deodorant cans on a bonfire.
She charged off, determined to get the stool. I put my plate down to take control, but she wanted Sarah, not me. By that point, we had a toddler tantrum in full-flight.
So, Sarah and I swapped. A finger-in-the-mouth from me subdued Jono, but Charlotte quickly grabbed the stool and attempted to drag it out of the room. In the subsequent drama, she bowled over poor Sarah, who had knelt down to try and calm her, landing on Sarah’s stitches and leaving her in agony.
I rushed down the hall and swept up Charlotte with one arm, still holding Jono in the other. For the next half an hour, Sarah and I tag-teamed talking the toddler off the ledge, before finally getting her to bed.
By that time, a finger was no longer satisfying Jono and he was screaming for a feed.
Sarah looked at me and we both looked at our half-eaten, cold dinner that was looking and smelling so beautiful almost an hour ago. This was supposed to be an easy meal!
It was all too much.
Sarah burst into tears. She’d wanted to be in bed 15 minutes ago, needed to use the bathroom 30 minutes ago and at some point just wanted one damn shower. I was tired and frustrated, 15 minutes past my bed time, and needing some chill-out time. Instead I’d received a plateful of chaos.
Was a moment’s reprieve too much to ask? Apparently, yes.
As the week has progressed the challenges have dissipated. Sure, we’ve had other recitals of Meltdown in Duet and it’s still tough, but we’re bouncing through it a bit easier now.
If you’re about to go through the same situation, expect disruption on a scale you had never thought possible. Or, perhaps, you’re not as naïve as me and knew exactly what to expect.
Either way, remember: you’ll be fine. Just give it time.
Part 4: Everything is a phase