Ankur took one look at my face when he got home from work and immediately started cleaning the apartment. 

If that’s any indication how yesterday went. 

It’s funny keeping a record of our day-to-day on here. SERIOUSLY. Because every other day I’m saying something like, “AHA! I FIGURED OUT THE MEANING OF LIFE!” and the other days I’m like, “HAHAHAHHA JUST KIDDING, I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE EFF I’M DOING.”

Yesterday, I didn’t know what the eff I was doing. 

I mean, I guess I KNOW what I’m doing. It just FEELS like I don’t because despite me doing all the right things, a toddler is gonna toddler, y’know? 

Ishu has entered the new phase of, “I want to do everything by myself and if you even attempt to help me or do anything in a way that I have not approved of, I will absolutely throw myself on the ground, flail my arms and legs (so stay back because I will not apologize for one of my limbs slapping you in the face), and scream until the people across the hall think I’m being tortured.”

It’s quite lovely, really.

And I know this is normal. And I know a lot of it is just ME trying to keep MY cool until he can come back to baseline.

But it doesn’t make it any less exhausting, y’know? 

At one point, Ankur and Ishu were in the living room playing while I was throwing dinner together. 

Black bean tacos. I laughed and pulled my phone out to snap this picture. 

Because there have been plenty of taco nights in our life. And I’ve always made it such a big presentation. Salsa, guac, sour cream, cheese, veggies, all doled out into separate bowls. Organized just right.

And this is what taco nights look like now. I am confused about that pre-baby person who not only took the time to scoop things out in separate containers, but also DID IT KNOWING SHE’D HAVE EXTRA DISHES TO WASH. WHAT A CRAZY PERSON I WAS.

Anyway, even though Ankur was home, Ishu still constantly wants to be attached to mama. So he kept running into the kitchen. He pulled the trash can out of the cabinet and tried to use it to climb up to the counter. (Instead of using his toddler tower which was LITERALLY right next to him). His foot accidentally slipped and he didn’t fall, but I think it startled him.

And instead of being patient and kind and loving, I grumbled under my breath, “Well, who fucking told you to do that?” 

Yes, I said the eff word. No I didn’t say “freaking.” Yes, I’m aware my toddler is in a phase where he repeats everything I say. No, he did not repeat it. Yes, I got lucky. 

Ankur came in and knelt down to look at Ishu.

“Where did you get hurt? Show me your boo-boo,” he asked. And I rolled my eyes at the whole interaction because, of course, I was feeling envious that Ankur was being the patient parent. The kind parent. The present parent. 

I wanted to shout, “I WAS PATIENT TOO. I WAS PATIENT FOR THE FIRST 6 HOURS OF THE DAY WHEN I WAS TRYING TO JUGGLE HIM AND MY JOB AND DINNER AND THE LAUNDRY AND THE AND THE AND THE…”

But I didn’t.

Because Ankur knows. I mean, it’s the reason he started picking things up immediately after walking into the apartment.

He knows.

And, quite honestly, I’m grateful that he CAN be patient in those moments.

I have to keep it together all day. So, if at the end of the day, I lose my shit, at least there’s someone there to stop the pieces from falling all over Ishu.

Phew.

That’s a lot.

If you got all the way down to the bottom of the post here, you deserve a prize. If you’ve stuck around here day in and day out through all the ups and downs, I really wish I could squeeze you. 

And if you show up on Monday, I’ll probably tell you I have my shit together. 

But don’t be fooled.

Because Tuesday I’ll have lost my shit all over again.