Mommy Madness…

… as in “descending into.”

The boys are 12 weeks and 1 day old, and I think I’m losing my mind. I don’t mean a bad case of mommy brain. I mean literally losing my mind. I hear crying constantly, even when they’re not crying. I’m in the shower on the other side of the house while they’re with the nanny and I still hear crying. It’s like phantom cell phone syndrome, except it’s my babies and it makes both my boobs and my heart hurt. No matter what I do, I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

I also am starting to feel like I’m somehow letting them down when I leave them, even if it’s for 15 minutes to drive to the post office and back, or two hours to go to the gym. It’s not like they’re not in the hands of a capable caregiver. I’m not leaving them unsupervised or anything. I’m just briefly detaching from them — like, less than once a week — and it’s making me feel like a Bad Mommy.

This suggests to me that I need a break. Not a lock-myself-in-the-bathroom-and-race-through-a-shower-without-shaving-my-legs break, but an actual break. Actual time that is carved out in my schedule for me to focus on something other than babies and work and oh-my-God-how-am-I-supposed-to-work-with-two-babies (which is another post entirely).

One huge problem is that my previous “me time” activities occur between 7 and 9 p.m. right when the babies are going to bed. So even though my gym offers free childcare during your workout, I can’t be schlepping two sleepy, cranky babies who just want to be held and go to bed to the gym with loud noises and bright lights and strangers and no nursing for two hours every night. It would be cruel and selfish. And I already have to pay for in-home childcare all day while I’m working, so I can’t afford to then have an evening sitter, too. And like, when would I parent my own children if I had paid childcare all day every day? That doesn’t work for me either.

Daddy-in-Training is an amazing, engaged father who clearly adores his children. But we need to have a serious come-to-Jesus about his horrendous work schedule and poorly timed social calendar. Unfortunately, he gets up and goes at about 6 every morning and comes home after I’m in bed most nights, so I’m not sure when that will happen. But if it doesn’t happen soon I may kill him in his sleep.

I kid, but I have to confess that I have been more than a little tempted to pummel him with my body pillow when I get to around the 2-hour mark of being awake with babies and breast pumps in the middle of the night. One of the boys so much as sighs and I am wide awake, sitting straight up in bed listening for who-knows-what. Yet they can be screaming bloody murder and I have to kick him awake. According to my other friends with new babies, including those with twins, this is a common man problem. But it doesn’t make me any less irate at 3 a.m., believe you me.

If I were just sitting around all day eating bonbons and cuddling sweet-smelling babies, it wouldn’t really be a big deal. But I’m working too, and I haven’t had 8 hours of interrupted sleep since week 5 of my pregnancy. That is 9 MONTHS, PEOPLE. Not only does he get to leave the house every day and wear real clothes that are not covered in spit-up every day and work without nursing or pumping or changing out of newly puked-upon clothing at 90-minute intervals every day, but he gets to sleep. And eat full meals with both hands at least twice a day. And shower. And pee with the door closed while not also holding a baby.

And I have a man who actually cares to be an involved parent and doesn’t think it’s all women’s work. I can’t imagine what it must be like for women whose men aren’t interested in parenting their children. If I were in that situation, someone might actually die. And it would probably be me, from exhaustion. Not that that isn’t a very real possibility in this situation — it’s just taking longer than it would if I were a married single parent.

Things are exponentially easier now that the babies are sleeping longer periods of time and are actually interacting with me more so I feel less like they are weird little doll things that have taken over my life and more like they’re real people whom I enjoy spending time with. But now that I’m back to work, it’s a whole different kind of hard. My years of multitasking didn’t cover how to survive when the formula is

work + babies – (sleep, good nutrition, and exercise) = total mommy burnout

And oh my God we’re only 12 weeks in. How much worse will it feel with two additional weeks of stress and sleep deprivation? Something’s gotta change, or I’m seriously going to crack.

We’re supposed to talk tomorrow. Hopefully he’ll be able to hear me over Emmett’s screaming. Because oh, by the way, he’s in the middle of the world’s worst growth spurt. You know, since the previous record-holding worst growth spurt ever, which was him about 3 weeks ago. Good times.