SAHM

I have a whole new respect for Stay at Home Moms now. (Hereafter SAHM). Since Lorenzo went back to Italy two weeks ago it has just been me with the kids. Except it hasn't been just me. It has been my parents taking the kids first thing in the morning so I can sleep in 'til 7 or 8 because now, God help me, Giulio wakes up at 6:15 wanting breakfast and Livia is rising now around 7. I am very curious to know how I am going to handle this when we are together again---oh, wait--yes I do know, it will be ME who will be getting up at 6:15 to get Giulio his breakfast. So right now it isn't just me in the morning, and it isn't just me when at 5 o'clock my father puts a glass of wine into my shaking hand, but it is me throughout the day. Every day since I got here I wake up in our basement guest room (my brother's bedroom on the 2nd floor is the 1st guest room and Giulio is sleeping there) and hear Giulio scurrying overhead, followed by Liviaon all fours. Giulio is usually giggling uncontrollably and Livia is saying "Daaaaaaa! Daaaaaaaa!" Talk about the pitter-patter of tiny feet. And my goal for the rest of the day is to do what I can to tire out those tiny feet.
And yet, how does one manage to coordinate two different children at very different stages of their lives? By the time everyone has eaten, dressed, and I've cleaned up the kitchen and gotten Giulio excited about going somewhere, Livia has started to fuss and it is time for her morning nap. When she wakes an hour later, usuallly around 11 we then begin a whole new round of eating and changing to make another attempt to go out. Somewhere in there we have Giulio going into Time-Out a few times and those scenes drag on and on, and I'm also trying to convince him that he needs to try and go to the bathroom which takes some coaxing, and then there are also the snacks and the spats, and cleaning up a bit so the house doesn't look like someone with an anger management problem came by, and then you realize it is 2 o'clock and it is time for Livia's second nap and we still haven't gotten anything really DONE and I am wishing I could take a nap myself. I have also realized that there is an advantage to having a small apartment when you have two children; you can do other things like make the beds or clean the bathroom and the children are never more than a room away. While I love the fact that my parents' home is large enough to absorb my family and all its stuff, there there are times when I have to dress Livia and I'm on the groundfloor and her clothes are down in the basement but somehow the box of wipes has wound up upstairs in Giulio's room. Rather than leave the children to their own amusements which usually involves Giulio hugging Livia round the head, I heave her on my hip as we lurch downstairs to retrieve clothing before stomping upstairs to get the wipes.
There there is the dance of the shoes. As a way to keep Giulio moving towards the door I have him get his shoes or sandals and tell him to put them on while I'm rushing around trying to grab all the water bottles, snacks, diapers and wipes that go into an average family outing. Putting on his shoes is part of him being a Big boy, independent, capable of doing things on his own. I watch him run to retrieve his shoes and then his sits on the floor looking dejectedly at his sandals but making no attempt to put them on. "Come on, Giulio" I call. "Put your sandals on." He then makes a sort of half hearted attempt, Livia crawls over and sits down next to him, picks up a sandal and chews on the strap. "Mommy I can't." This is his new thing now, he can't. He can't go to the bathroom, he can't help me pick up his toys, he can't put his shoes on. Except that he can, and my patience is running thin. I hurriedly help him into one, and then he somehow finds the strength to put on the other. Finally we are ready. We head out the door to what is my car while I am in town, my brother's ancient Volvo stationwagon. What it lacks in engine power it makes up for with a top of the line sound system and cd/mp3 player. With Johnny Cash singing about how it ain't him, babe, we head over to the nearby museum, aka my home away from home. Pools are a good choice for tiring out the kids but I don't like to go alone, it really takes two adults to wrangle two small children in the water. I should also add that since Lorenzo left the weather has gotten unbearably hot so most outdoor activities are out and we are all taking refuge in the a/c, while Lorenzo, who left us in Ohio to escape the heat (yes, I know, a contradiction in terms) is enjoying breezy, pleasant temperatures in Italy. He even claims that he sleeps with a blanket at night. So the museum is our destination today. I pull into the parking lot, free Giulio from the car and get Livia into the stroller and in the steamy heat we begin the long, uphill treck to the museum.
We head inside, breathing a sigh of relief for the air conditioning. We go to the Children's Museum and to the Little Sprouts room, which is specifically designed for children 4 and under. Something always happens when we move into the children's museum: time stands still. On one hand it is wonderful to watch the kids play. Giulio is quiet and focused as he plays at the sand table, moving the sand from the dump truck into the bucket, and it is great to let LIvia crawl about without worrying about her knocking over a lamp. Or wrapping a cord around her neck. Or trying to get into the fridge. But then she discovers the slide and all she wants to do it climp UP it, and despite countless attempts to distract her she keeps heading back there. And suddenly I can't stop yawning and I keep glancing at my watch, waiting for the Promised time of 5 o'clock when the museum closes and we can go home, and I swear I looked at my watch 20 minutes ago and now I just looked again and only 5 minutes had passed. At least Giulio is happy here, this place is perfect for pre-schoolers. Instead it is Livia who gives me fits. The girl just wants to move and she manages to turn the child friendly, carpeted, padded play areas into the site of death defying stunts as she tries to go head first down three steps where I catch her in the nick of time or crawling over to the entrance gate where excited toddlers running past just miss stepping on her hands. I pick her up, carrying her back 20 feet only to have her leap forward like a race horse from the starting gate the moment I put her down and head right back towards the entrance. Eventually I lose patience with fielding Livia or Giulio gets bored and we head over to some other exhibit. Here Giulio loses himself again playing but now I have to focus constantly on Livia. Outside of the Little Sprouts Room is not set up for babies so I must protect Livia from being run over by big kids or putting something tiny in her mouth. She isn't OK with being held for long periods of time and we wrestle for a while before I finally give in, put her down, only to have her try and put a small peg in her mouth so then I go and pick her up again. I can only really stand doing this for about 30 minutes and then I have to go. My head starts to hurt, the kids get hungry and I have to try to convince Giulio that it is actually his idea to leave. "Come back tomorrow?" he always asks, and I can truthfully answer yes, if we want to.
We get home and I'm exhausted as if I just climbed a mountain and then if someone askes me what I did all day all I can come up with is,"We went to the museum." And along the way I got impatient, lost my temper, surely yelled at some point too. I would make the worst SAHM, I just lack the motivation and energy to entertain and keep my children busy all day. Next door to my parents lives a young couple with a little boy named Steven, the mom Nora is a SAHM she always seems to me to be such a shining example. She doesn't yell, is very patient with Steven, takes time to do interesting craft projects with him. They watch a tiny amount of television, eat limited amounts of sugar, and seem to truly take pleasure in each others company. Nora would never turn on the TV for Seasame Street and "forget" to turn it off because it kept Steven quiet. Or distract him from a melt down by offering him a Newman-Os. Or maybe she would. Maybe I seem like the perfect SAHM when I am in the Little Sprouts room, patiently removing Livia for the 10th time from the bottom of the slide or playing super market with Giulio. Meanwhile on the inside I am counting down the days until Giulio goes back to school and Livia goes back to daycare, and the minutes until I can sit on the couch with a glass of wine in my hand and let my tired parents deal with--I mean enjoy--the kids. Tomorrow, I promise myself, tomorrow I will get it right.