I have discovered, especially with the successful implementation of a proper bedtime routine (although admittedly only on day 5, I’m optimistic), that there are many thoughts going through my head that simultaneously make me feel like an idiot and an unfit mother. However, upon further investigation, I think that there are probably plenty of people having the exact same thoughts, so I decided to share them anyway. Today was a perfect example.
6:30am – Bedroom door creaks open.
Why are they up? Can’t they sleep in? Do I have to get up? Someone else get them. Pretend I’m still sleeping… Yes, that’s it. Maybe they’ll get tired of trying to wake me up and go play. S**t! It’s not working! Go away! I need my beauty sleep! Still not working… *sigh* Why me?
7:20am – Breakfast is finished.
I’m going for a nap. Littlest can play in the playroom, he usually have lots of fun. Why are you hanging on to my leg? Can’t you see I’m walking? It’s not the end of the world that I’m not picking you up. My head. Oh the decibels! Who taught you to wail so loud? Did you come with a volume control? I feel like I should pick you up but that’s just going to make you think your ploy was successful. Yes, I know child. I can see right through it. Oh, nice floor. Nice, nice floor. Now I can snooze. Biggest will have tons of fun running his cars over me. Zzzzzzzzzz
8:30am – Loud yelling occurs.
Oh dear heavens. Why can’t they play nicely. Wait? How did they both start… oh right. I put the baby gate up so Littlest didn’t feel lonely. Shoulda left the door closed. Biggest isn’t going to leave him alone… Zzzzzzz
8:40am – Giggles occur.
Must sleep. Fuzzy brain. Comfy. What’s that noise? That doesn’t sound like the usual giggles… What did they get into? I coulda sworn I put everything away… All the locks are on… Everything important is out of reach… Ugh so loud… Zzzzz
9:10am – “Uh oh…” “Mommy, look what happened!”
That’s really only the beginning. Littlest went for a nap, Biggest played some more, I fell back to sleep. (Don’t judge, it’s been a long week, and I was within definitive hearing distance. Also, it was a delicious nap. In a sunspot no less.) The day carried on from there. And by carried on I mean more melted into an awkward symphony of screaming followed by thuds followed by more crying, followed by some whining, and some random happy singing.
More typical moments include the usual “Didn’t I just feed you? Why do you need to be fed again?” moments, and the ultimate failure… “I can’t find a fork, and since you usually eat barbarian style, I am going to give you permission to use your hands anyway and I’ll deal with it later. Mainly because I’m exhausted. And the sink is full. And… what’s that? You’re mad because I didn’t give you a fork?? That’s it. I’m done. Brain gone. Mommy crying.”
Oh. And let’s not forget the “EW. Did you really just do that? Boys are gross. How do they survive to adulthood? And that’s my job?” and the “He’s trying to communicate, I swear. Now what is he saying? And why is he holding that car like it’s going to eat me?” and also “I REALLY DID NOT WANT TO KNOW THAT YOUR POOP LOOKS LIKE A CHICKEN!!! Where the hell is my coffee???”
Long story short: Motherhood is less about being put together and more about trying to have a modest amount of decorum when faced with the insanity that is children. Furthermore, that decorum had better be super-glued onto your face, because when your child pops up out of nowhere with guests in the house and announces that there is a “huge, huge, huge big booger” up his nose, you are going to be in for a serious skill test.
I’m just hoping I make it to the end in one sane piece.
It’s seriously questionable.