Life with Two under Two: Or Fire Hydrant chased by Fire Engine

Life as a mom of two: go.

Yesterday, I made the mistake of thinking that I could go downtown, taking the T, for some mommy time, in the middle of nap-time. [Because as life would have it, almost every mommy thing is schedule right in the middle of when my children sleep.] Foolish foolish mistake.  Cardinal rule of being the mother of two: you do not mess with nap-time.  That is known as sanity time.  The blissful, peaceful return of only having to manage and sooth one child, and or the rare and occasional moments of total alone time if both babes happen to be a-bed.  Glory, Glory, Hallelujah.  Do not mess.

But yesterday... oh yesterday... I did.

S had a great time playing with other kiddos and didn't want to leave.  He thinks the nursery is the greatest thing ever invented.  AND they have snacks!  #win

E fell asleep in the Ergo during the Bible study, and was peacefully quiet most of the time. #win

YES! Win!  Go mommy go!  Oh but wait...

As we boarded the T for our ride home - 3 stops then a 10 minute walk, we were literally that close - eldest son cracked under the pressure of being now an hour late for his nap and becoming hungry and decided that he must.have.crackers.NOW.  And all of them.  And commenced a nasally, whiny, pleading that sounded suspiciously like a fire engine was chasing me down the train car.  Add in the bright red flashing beacon from the glares of fellow passengers, and I'm pretty Station 9 would have welcomed us in with open arms.

At which point, youngest son awoke from his peaceful slumber, overdue to eat, and quite peeved to be made wait.  He's a very peaceful child, very patient, except for when he's not.  And when he's hungry and or tired, and not getting what he wants, well that qualifies as one of those times.  So he begins to scream.  The red-in-the-face-arching-his-back-not-really-taking-breaths kind of screaming, which no amount of shushing or bouncing will calm down.  All he wants and needs in that moment is to eat.  Which you can't really do in the middle of a moving car, when your stop is the next one.

But hey, my body is super responsive to my wailing child, and very good at producing milk, so in the middle of this bedlam, both breasts begin spouting milk, rather like a fire hydrant, staying with our theme.  And of course, my bra and super absorbent pads have shifted, due to said arching-screaming child, so, you guessed it, my little geysers were visibly gushing, soaking me, my shirt, and my screaming child with a waterfall of milk, as the passengers on the train watched in horror.

Guys, I'm pretty sure in three stops, I managed to clear out an entire train car.  And the 3 poor souls who were too nice or too lazy to move either stared in horror or developed an obsession with their shoes and the gum stuck to the train floor.

Longest 17 minutes ever.

By the time we made it home, all three required wardrobe changes, all three were exhausted, and I might have made a s'more for my lunch.  Just sayin'.  And I might have vowed that I was never leaving the house with both ever again.

BUT. The reality is, I will.  I need to.  Those grown-up moments are needed, even if they are costly to have.  The reality is, not all days are that crazy.  The truth is that there are many days filled with laughter as one boys chortles collapse the other boy into an uncontrollable giggle fest in return or we all bask in the fading summer sunlight as the trees begin to turn [for the record, these are probably the moments that you'll see showing up on my facebook newsfeed] or one learns how to say the letter P and says it on repeat over and over and over again, spitting in his delight every time.

The truth is, days like yesterday are just part of the story.  And I tell them because even though they're not the pretty part - though like yesterday, sometimes they're the comic relief - they are a vital part.  A rite of passage sometimes.  A growing point, as I am reshaped and molded in my own character and ability to roll with the tide.  The stuff that adventures are made of definitely. Something to laugh about later (because it is pretty darn funny!) absolutely.  Kids come with all sorts of crazy, bring out all sorts of crazy in me, and require all kinds of creativity.  And two just makes that even more so.

But never before have I enjoyed so much laughter, even if half of it is just having to laugh at our crazy, because otherwise, how do you make it through the days? And life is richer as a result, and I am freer as a result.

We survive the crazy and they grow older day by day until one day we turn around and they're all grown up, and these moments of crazy are fond memories of days gone by.  Or so I've been told by every grandma who stops me on the T, amidst my sometimes screaming children and tells me, barely audibly over said children, to treasure these moments.  And I do.

Even if it's through tears of laughter in the moment, as I geyser my way home, chased by my little red beacon and my noisy little fire engine.