Sunday, February 5, 2006

We are Going to the Firestation!

Most days are really good as a stay-at-home mom of two toddlers. But you all know about the days I am going to talk about. The days that you think back to before children. You remember romancing your husband, having sex, and getting pregnant. And then you look at your little monsters and exclaim, "the sex wasn't that good, why did I do that!"

In California there is a safe haven law. Essentially a woman has 72 hours to give up all rights to her child annonomously after his/her birth. This is done by simply walking into a hospital, firestation, library, or police station and dropping the child off - no questions asked. This law was put into place to combat the 'baby in the dumpster' cases we see too often on the evening news.

There is a lovely little placard on the front of these buildings of an adult hugging an infant. The background in white and the people are blue. It is a crude drawing, but it gets its point across.

Those first 72 hours after birth are pure bliss. First you are in the hosptial for up to 48 hours where someone else brings you food, cleans the room, buys the diapers, gives them and bottles to you. If you need ANYTHING at all you simply push a button. Sure the bed in uncomfortable, but you are too since you just pushed a baby out of you.

Then you go home. There your family and friends greet you with take-out, frozen casseroles, and will hold your baby endlessly while you take a shower - alone. Your husband takes a few days off of work and helps out around the house. The grandparents come over at every chance and just happen to run a load of laundry, found a really cute outfit that the baby has to have, and made too much food at home - its in the fridge for you.

Fast forward to today. I now have a 3 year old and a 16 month old. No one is stopping by to help anymore and people tease me and say I am lazy when I watch an entire tv show while laying on the couch. Um, my day started at 4:30 am.

The baby started crying convinced it was time for breakfast. Everytime I asked him what he wanted the reply was "up!". I was hoping it was just a clean diaper or another bottle. Nope. Then my daughter woke up to his cries. For the next 90 minutes I was in and out of each bedroom comforting, refilling bottles, turning on music, and handing out books all in an effort to keep them in bed until 6 am, still earlier than the sun was waking up. Suffice to say. I got no more sleep.

Then the kids spent the next hour screaming, yelling, and running while I tried to grab a few zzz's on the couch. Nope. So I reluctantly got up and started with the morning chores of dishes, breakfast, lunch, etc. The kids ran in and out of the kitchen begging for food (although it was cooking and they had already had a snack). Three times they spilled a box of packing peanuts on the floor. They colored on the kitchen table. And the toddler kept pushing a kitchen chair around the house to access all the off-limits stuff; light switches, markers, tiny screws, and high counters.

By 8:30 am, I know it seems early to all you non-kid people, but I had been up since 4:30 am, everyone was finally ready after the kids stood at the front door for 5 minutes yelling, "now". I was so annoyed. And it had only been 4 hours. So I told my husband, "We are leaving now. I'm going to the firestation and will be back soon."

On those truly awful, why-did-I-have-sex days I hold out on the dream that I can just drop them off at the firestation. I know I am way past the 72 hours deadline. And I would never want to get rid of them, but some days I wish someone would take them, just for a few hours.

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