Saturday, February 9, 2013

Love My Life



 Oh bore!  

Coming from the mouth of Dillon, sure life's a bore, but far from reality in my book!

Trying to find "my place in this world", as Richard Marx would sing, is becoming more relevant these days.


My days consist of caring for children.   Having an infant at either one of my breasts 24/7, trying to dress a toddler with the spare hand I have, wipe boogers off of toys, walls, faces, all while having baby still attached to breast.  After said baby comes off breast, burping him is in order while I throw in fury toss a toy dump truck into the toy box after it's been stepped on by bare feet.  After the burping session is complete and I've been barfed on, I retreat to the restroom where I sit on my throne to not only relieve myself, but to get just a moment of what a mom likes to call peace.  I'm quickly interrupted and brought back to reality by a toddler asking if I'm going "poo-poo caca".  After answering him with, "not this time Son," he looks at me and replies, "oh," as he trots out.  Ah, peace again.  Until I hear cries coming from the living room.  Well, guess my minutes of "peace" are over now.  Time to move on.  
I attempt to pick up toys that are scattered everywhere throughout the house.  But I am quickly stopped in my tracks by a toddler who screams at me to not put his beep-beeps away.  And cries when I toss his stuffed animals into the toy box.  Okay, move on Mom to another task...this one will have to wait until nap.  As I maneuver my way through the maze of toys on the floor, I stop by the laundry room to start a load of clothes.  I can hear the cries of an infant coming from the living room as I sift through stinky socks, shirts with barf on them, and what's this?  Yeah, a certain toddler has thrown panty liners into the basket for me to wash.  I make a mental note to hide the box a little better next time, but with my dementia from having one too many kids, I'll forget to make that actual move to do it.

Lunch time is approaching.  Throw some chicken nuggets into the pan, turn the oven on 350, and move onto the next task.  Change a diaper of an infant.  Wait, what's that smell?  Lucas?  Did you poop?  Okay, time to change a diaper of a toddler who is more than ready to be pooping in the big boy toilet, but refuses because he can.  Throw the infant's diaper away in the garbage that's in the house...his poops don't stink quite yet, and take the toddler's diaper and toss it into the garage so the smell doesn't permeate the house.  Baby's crying again?  Okay, latch on my dear child.  Head to the oven to check the toddler's lunch.  Nuggets are done.  Take the 10 pound cast iron skillet out of the oven with one hand, child still attached to the breast, all while not burning myself or the infant.  Task complete, but not without a near broken wrist as I fling the pan onto the stove's surface.
Yell for toddler that lunch is ready, only to hear a "no Mom," coming from upstairs.  Upstairs?  Ugh!  I trek up the 14 stairs with infant still at breast to find a toddler coloring on himself with green marker that other child left out when Mom told her to hide the markers from toddler.  Obviously listening is key in our house.
I instruct toddler that nuggets are ready and it's time to eat please.  Toddler holds my hand as we make our way down the stairs.  On our way down, baby comes off the breast do to extreme exhaustion.  Great, now I can put infant into the swing and assist toddler with lunch.  Placed in the swing, infant starts to cry.  I leave infant to cry while I place nuggets on a plate, add ketchup and mustard, open a Greek yogurt and add prunes to the plate as well.  Toddler begins to devour yogurt with fingers, even though a spoon is provided.  Continues to eat like a toddler as yogurt drips down his chin, chest, and lands on the floor.  Infant is still crying.  Toddler finishes lunch after numerous bribes and then proceeds to go play with his toys.  Wait!  Get back here and let me wipe your hands off.  Yogurt drenched hands have now been spread to the wall adjacent to the toys.  Grab a quick anti-bacterial wipe to the wall after toddler's face and hands have been wiped.  Infant's cries have now escalated to screams.
I go to retrieve infant dying in swing.  But unfortunately pass a mirror on my way to do so.  Oh, not what I needed to see.  Navy blue tank top has numerous white barf stains adorning the front and shoulder area, glasses on my face are spotted with ketchup that squirted on my face as I was preparing lunch, hair is in a messy bun that looks like rats have set up shop, and the bags under my eyes?  We won't talk about how awesome they make me look.
Infant stops crying the minute he's picked up.  Place him in the pack so he'll stop crying.  Proceed to take clean clothes out of the washer and place into the dryer.  Start another load.  Notice letter sitting on the counter that needs to go out to the mailbox.  Make a mental note to take it outside after clothes are put into the washer.  Leave laundry room and stop in my tracks.  Notice toddler has gone into my bathroom while I was doing laundry and turned the soaker tub's faucet on.  Water has been collected into a cup that toddler has found and now there's water everywhere.  Wipe up water with a clean bath towel.  Make mental note to replace the towel.  Tell toddler it's time for quiet time.  Toddler runs from me and says no.  I remove infant from pack and place into the swing so I can chase down toddler.  Infant starts to cry, toddler runs up the stairs.  Infant is left to cry while I run upstairs to find toddler in the markers again...this time a red one.  Snatch marker from hand and sit in the rocker while I read toddler a book about bunnies.  After bunny book is read, I place toddler in his crib, tell him I love him, and start to close the door.  Toddler starts to whine.  I find the nearest toy I can, place it into his crib, tell him I love him again and close the door.  I stand at the closed door and hear toddler talk to himself and his toys.  The coast is clear.  Head down the stairs to screaming infant.  Place infant in the pack as I attempt to clean up the dishes from lunch, finish the laundry that's now wrinkling in the dryer, and pick up toys on the floor.  Infant falls asleep.  Place infant in the swing once more so I can work more efficiently.  Kitchen cleaned, toys picked up, wrinkled laundry removed from dryer and placed in the basket, another horrified glimpse in the mirror as I pass it to go to the bathroom, and an infant who's  crying again.  As I glance at the letter on the counter that needs to go out, I pass by the home gym.  Okay, work out needed today as I look down at my post pregnancy belly that's protruding through my barf stained tank top.  Slip on shoes, grab a coat, and pray the construction workers don't see me as I head to the mailbox.  Said worker looks my way as I keep my rat's nest head hung low in shame of what my appearance looks like.  Hurry into the house as I hear worker barf in his mouth after looking my way and pick up infant who's yet again screaming.

Shall I continue with more of my day?  I'll spare you.  This is just a small fraction of my day.  Let's not forget to mention what happens when the kids come home from school, making sack lunches every morning, helping with homework (what I can help with) making dinner, pleasing everyone and their childish needs, etc., etc., etc.  Oh, Steve's at work for two days?  Not a problem what-so-ever!  I've got this.  Grandma Collie comes over to assist with homework...thank you Jesus!  

As I wrap up my day, I place infant at breast one last time before the day finally comes to an end.  I am still in barfed on tank top, mismatched socks, and sweats that have a hole in them.  I take a deep breath and realize a six year old is still waiting for my arrival upstairs to tuck her in.  De-latch infant and head upstairs.  Infant screams while I approach six year old's room.  She proceeds to tell me I'm late and that she's not happy about it.  As I'm apologizing, infant's cries are becoming louder and echoing up the stairwell.  I try to wrap up the tuck in, but six year old begins to sing me a song that she learned in music class that day.  I smile as the crying continues and wish she'd fast forward her song just a tad.  After the solo is completed,  I clap and head into twelve year old's room to hear him snoring as I pull up the covers closer to him.  Kiss him as I head into toddler's room to check on him.  As I rub his back and say I love you once more, he awakes and wants me to rock him.  Infant's cries are now breath holding spells.  I rock him for a bit, place him back into his crib and make my way to ten year old's room.  Tell her to put her iPad away and go to sleep.  Kiss her and listen as she tells me how her jump rope routine at school plays out.  I smile as I tell her I love her and race down the stairs.  Grab infant who is red in the face at this point, place him on breast and settle in once more.  After infant is fed, I wrap him oh so gently in a blanket and place him in his bassinet.  Pray he doesn't cry as I head into the bathroom to brush my teeth and get another God-awful glance at myself.  I utter the words, "I need a makeover," as I turn away from the mirror and walk out towards the bed...aka heaven.  Infant remains asleep as I relish into my bed.  As I drift off into sleepy land, I hear the start up of infant cries.  Guess I'll stay awake a little longer.   








2 comments:

  1. Oh how I love your honesty! I think I need to start talking about my stressful days on my blog. Being a stay at home is a hard job and I think I should let people know that more often! I also LOVE the pic of Dillon awake in his little hat! Adorable!!

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  2. Yes Kristin, I would love to hear about your days! You are correct, being a SAHM is a hard job. I hope to convey that through my humorous posts. :) Looking forward to reading about your mayhem!

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