I’m Good With One

Sometimes I’m reminded that in spite of knowing I’m the mother to two children, I have become a mother of one. I don’t mean this in the “I’ve physically lost a son and only have one kid now” way.

I mean this in the “I can’t handle more than one kid at a time” way. I’m sitting in the Starbucks right now after dropping Henry off at a party. A party at a play place thing. You know, with all the bouncy things and games and screaming and screeching and running and making OMG so much noise!!

I’m never sure of the etiquette…stay, go, hover…what??

Needless to say, as soon as the first parent skeedaddled, I did, too. But not before I felt completely sucked dry of all the energy I had.

It’s not just parties, though. It’s everywhere. If there are more than two kids in one place, especially boys, I feel overwhelmed, almost assaulted by their energy. I can handle one other child with Henry, but add a third and jeeeez. You may might as well add 50 because it feels exactly the same to me.

My sister handles her 3 plus mine or 20 others like its nothing. I get jealous of people like that because I don’t like becoming an anxious mess when I’m at school or at a gathering with a lot of kids. I want to handle it with ease and not feel like I need to drink a gallon of sangria when I get home.

Surely I’m not alone in this thinking, right? Anybody else out there who feels like this?