It is Archive Week at A Day in Motherhood! Some of my favorite posts will be reposted for fun! Thanks!
Originally posted 6/14/2010
Every morning I wake from a peaceful sleep, stretch in the comfort of my own bed, and relish in the idyllic panoramic film playing in my head that depicts the way my day will go. Music accompanying the film is played by Angels with a song written only for me.
I will wake, make the bed, take my multi- vitamin, pour some coffee, eat a piece of whole grain toast with all natural peanut butter, flip open Fitness magazine and plan my work out that I will do during nap time.
The kids will rise, one at a time, allowing me the oh so precious time to change their diapers or Pull Ups, brush their teeth, comb their hair and give them each the individual love and attention that they crave.
I will wake with a knee in my back and a child in my face and the sounds of another screaming in her crib! I’ll realize I only got 3 hours of sleep as I lay on the very outer edge of my king sized bed clinging to the side bed slat for balance. The panoramic film will become a jumbled mess in my head and the Angels have abandoned their harps and retreated back to Heaven where they feel safe.
This is Motherhood people, and it ain’t for sissies!
As I fall out of bed, careful not to crush my two year old who is lovingly smacking me and saying “Mama, I need milk.”, I think “If I could only make the bed today, then today would be a success.”
After getting some milk for Sarah, getting Megan from the crib, covering Katie back up in my bed so she can continue to sleep – lucky girl- putting on the babysitter named Clifford and changing a myriad of wet diapers, I stumble to the bathroom. I pop my thyroid pill that I never needed until pregnancies pissed off my thyroid, brush my teeth, grab a shirt from the hamper and toddle out with the hopes of making some sort of decent, healthy breakfast for my kids.
I open the fridge and Katie is up. After changing her Pull-Up, getting her some milk and parking her in front of the cheapest babysitter I have ever hired, I head back to the kitchen in an attempt to feed the kids.
“Mom, I need more Clifford!” You get what you pay for I guess… 20 minutes, not a second more.
“Mama, I need more milk!” Ah, there went my babysitting money!
“Vavavavavavavavavavavavava.” Yea – she does not understand the power of the electronic sitter yet.
I hit rewind – thank you dear Lord above for DVR! – get some more milk, mentally removing that money from her college fund – and stick a boob in Megan’s mouth.
Now I sit for 20 minutes watching a big red dog try to teach little normal sized dogs a lesson so that Emily Elizabeth can brag about it. I am thrilled. This is the life.
As my brain activity slows to a crawl, I do vaguely remember that all I wanted to do today was make the bed. Surely, in the course of 12 hours while my husband is working hard for the money, I can make one little bed. Surely.
So the show ends and I put the protesting baby down and head to the kitchen. Healthy breakfast… healthy breakfast.
“Mom!!”; “Mammaaaaaa.” “Vavavavavavavava!”
Oh screw it – here is a Pop Tart. It has 10% fruit. I feel successful.
OK- Sesame Street is on – to the bedroom to accomplish one goal today.
“Moooooooommmmm – Sarah is on my couch!”
And so the day goes. A delicate dance around drama, feelings, diapers, pee accidents, milk, food, snacks, activities, cleaning and sanity. Sometimes I succeed, but mostly I fail. I am actually ok with the failures. Its just part of that Motherhood thing. I figure it also gives fodder for my children’s therapy couch later. So really, a failure in Motherhood is a success… in a way…. too much of a stretch? Ok – I’ll move on!
As the day progresses, I am clearly aware that my bed is still not made. I have attempted. The sheet is actually pulled up on the bed. I had to stop because Megan is still figuring out that the whole walking into a corner thing really, really hurts!
But I have attempted – and trying as hard as I can is all that matters right?
Oh who am I kidding!! It’s a bed! I can’t find time to make a bed? Really?
My husband calls and is on his way! The mad dash begins.
What is more important? Dinner that I have not given a second thought to, the kids who are all in underwear and diapers, or me? Possibly me – seriously. Because at this point, let’s face it, I am no catch! With no shower, wrinkled clothes, and remnants of meals I have fed my children fingerprinted on my shirt I would scare even Freddy Kruger.
So I spend 5 minutes attempting to spruce myself up. It takes 20 as I have to stop to break up a fight, pick a baby up off the floor and let the dogs outside lest they pee on my rug.
Dinner… ok – there is some chicken and a pot. Ummm…. tacos! Check!
The kids. Ok- shirts, shorts, service. Check!
My husband walks in, kisses me, kisses the kids, surveys the house – which I managed to keep at level orange on the terror alert chart, walks into the bedroom where I hear;
“Honey, couldn’t you find time to make the bed?”