I write this at 7.11pm and as I do, I feel utterly broken.
Broken because I feel such a terrible terrible Mother.
My children have broken me.
The 5.10am start after a 9.30pm bedtime with a child who did not want to sleep did not bode well. Another day of solo parenting facing me with the rain crashing down outside, I already knew I was on the backfoot. A day seems so much harder with dismal weather and waking up exhausted by too little sleep. And so it began. The arguing. The fighting. The tantrums. The tears. Then all to be forgotten in a few minutes, only to flare up again not long after.
So I shout. A lot. I swear under my breath. My brain hurts. I am at a loss how to stop it. Distractions of outside fresh air are not an option. Cabin fever sets in and amplifies this already impossible situation. I hate shouting, but yesterday it snowballed. All I seemed to do was shout and every single argument ended in this. And it didn’t make the blindest bit of difference which makes me feel even more broken. I am forever chasing my tail in a world of chaos that twin two year old siblings bring with it.
Life with twins is hard. Very hard.
They are on top of each other 24/7 and to most it’s an idyllic situation as they presume they go off and play. And yes, they do. But they also bicker. Squabble. Brawl. Being a twin is not all plain sailing. It’s one-upmanship in a bid to get their own way. An only child doesn’t have this predicament every day as they get time to themselves but there’s no luxury in twinland.
We are all so desperately tired. Never in a million years after a baby that slept from 6-7 weeks did I think that a few weeks before their third birthday, sleep would still be an issue. They go to bed wonderfully but once a week we usually have a bit of a crazy night and we ALWAYS have an early wake up. It’s tiring. So incredibly tiring. A day in the house when everyone is tired and cranky is a recipe for disaster.
But as I have read three stories, tucked three people into bed and kissed three foreheads good night, I sit here full of guilt. Guilt that they know how I struggled. They saw me losing it and slowly crumbling as the day went on. I snapped much much more than I should and skipped that bit of the story to speed up bedtime. They are kids. This is what they do. But as a parent, I should be able to crack on and block out the lack of sleep.
Today is a new day. Let’s hope the new day brings giggles, cuddles and no shouting. Fingers and toes crossed.