“Stop poking your brother in the head. He’s eating,” I said through gritted teeth. It was the third time in a row I had said it. Clearly, my three-year-old was trying to get my attention. But I simply didn’t have it to give. I was in the middle of nursing his younger brother. The most I could provide him was my ears to listen and voice to speak, not the mama lap or arms he so desired.
Needless to say, that wasn’t enough.
That was only one of many, many times I’ve felt terribly split between my children.