The reason I want to blog more is that it makes me feel good. I feel that I am using these neurons in my brain that don't get used when I am with my kids. I feel bad saying that. I know that the job I am doing every minute of every day is the most important one. I also feel very lucky because I do want to be a stay at home mom, and I do want to be with my kids. But Lord have mercy it's hard. I hope to God I am raising decent human beings that will one day contribute to society and marry someone that only thinks I am a little crazy, and the good kind of crazy at that.
So in addition to the fact that my large t-shirt and the Duggars always win out on my "me time," I usually am not quite sure what to blog about. "Just write about your every day life," friends say. Ok. So here was just my morning.....
6 a.m.
Brooks wakes up at some point in the night and moves to sleep in the hallway. There are obviously monsters in his closet, and he likes to do this because then he hears Zac getting ready for work at 5:30 a.m. in our guest bathroom. He gets up and dresses himself and they get to hang for 20 minutes before he has to go to work. He then eats captain crunch and watches Sponge Bob Square Pants by himself until he hears Luke wake up, and comes to get me. If I am lucky he wakes me up by putting 2 tiny fingers on an upper and lower eyelid and slowly raising my eye open while whispering, "mom, you should get up, your babbbbby is awake." This is nice, when the beginning of my day begins with a slow nightmare. When I think about this little man alone in the morning for this time it makes me sad and feel like a bad mom. But I am exhausted and the difference between waking up at 5:55 and 7 a.m. is the difference between me being nice mommy and crazy mommy.
6:59 a.m.
Luke wakes up like clockwork. I think he has a tiny watch in his room and he laughs at the fact that he will never sleep past 7 a.m. I change his diaper which is somehow the weight of 3 small children and I make a mental note to invent better diapers so I can be a millionaire. I kindly ask him not to kick me so hard in the uterus (and only clench my teeth a little while doing so) while I put his clothes on because I may want another child and I would rather the reason I can't have any more not be that my child kicked me in the uterus every day for a whole year. It is absolutely insane how much power a toddler can have when he is laying down and round-house kicking you. It is also crazy how they can suddenly weigh 120 lbs when they go dead weight in a grocery store. These are the mysteries of the world that cannot be explained.
7:03 a.m.
I turn the Keurig coffee machine on and hand Luke one of three or four bananas he will eat throughout the day while researching "can my kid eat too many bananas" as well as "is potassium overload a real thing" on my phone. I look at the clock on the stove and calculate how long it is until I can drop my kids off at the gym for my
7:14 a.m.
I feel guilty that my kids are always watching t.v. in the morning so I suggest we do puzzles and we all lay on the floor and get out a couple. I drink my coffee and we do puzzles and giggle for something like 17 whole minutes. We are all happy and I get the feeling that I am the best mom in the world. At least top 10.
8:30 a.m.
I pace the kitchen debating whether to have a third cup of coffee and have a wave of mom guilt because I suppose at any moment I could be pregnant (I am not) and this kid would definitely be born hooked on jet fuel keurig k cups. I justify the third cup by also making a smoothie that has some nasty green powder made up of seaweed and all kinds of crap from the earth that's supposed to make me skinny, my hair longer and my body release all the toxins inside of it. It costs like $40 at whole foods and I have no idea if it works. Whole Foods is a trendy mom's crack, and every time I go in there I black out and come out with 2 paper bags and spend exactly $130. I put an extra scoop in because I go through boxed wine at an alarming rate and I definitely need to release dem toxins.
8:59 a.m.
I bark at my children to come to the back door and put their shoes on because we are going to the gym to see their best friends. They have best friends there because we literally never miss a day at our gym and a long time ago they realized they better make friends or this will be a real drag. Thank you sweet Baby Jesus for the gym. They have free childcare, kind workers, and I eat a lot of macaroni, so I must run. I wait impatiently at the door for my children who I am pretty sure are in the bathroom eating toothpaste and all of a sudden Brooks sprints around the corner screaming "Mom, your underwear were stuck to my shorts that I want to wear, ahhhhhhhh this is soooooo crazy!!!!" This makes Luke laugh hysterically and even though I know he doesn't get the situation I feel I should probably start putting away some money for the therapy they will inevitably have because my underwear was static clung onto their shorts.
9:15 a.m.
I drop my kids off at the YMCA. I love you so much workers. I have 2 hours, 120 minutes, of pure bliss. I put my time on the sheet 10 minutes later than I actually arrive in case I want to extend my limited alone time for the day, or actually pee without an audience. This is technically a lie, but I am scatterbrained and I only glanced at the clock and "got the short and long time handle mixed up." Silly me. I need that extra 10 minutes like you need oxygen, people. Yesterday Brooks told me I used too much toilet paper while I used the restroom and I could really do without the second-by-second commentary.
9:17 a.m.
I exercise in peace and feel guilty about how I wanted to be alone. My kids aren't that bad! Or do I only feel like that because they are not with me at this very second? I think about all the ways I could be a better mom and promise not to feed them goldfish or McDonalds in the car for lunch. I mentally go through my to-do list and start to panic for a second. I think my heart skips a beat and I have to try hard to not research "heart palpitations in moms" on my phone. I decide to focus my attention on the weird man in leggings who is doing box jumps. I don't think I could jump over a shoe box right now and this man is literally flying through the air all over the gym floor. I consider going over to ask him for whatever drug he is clearly on. Instead I continue moving at minus speed on the elliptical. Even though I had 90 oz of coffee I feel like I am moving my body through mud. If I didn't eat so much cheese I could leave this God foresaken place. I curse you, dairy. Just kidding I love you so much, forget what I said.
11:15 a.m.
I go to pick my kids up at the gym kid care. I am excited to see them, It's really nice. I tell them we are going to the dollar store for the favors for Brooks' birthday party later in the day and you would think I told them we are getting 8 ponies. I then realize how sad our life is. They begin to chant "dollar store," and it's getting louder and people are looking, so I rush them out to the car.
11:33 a.m.
I arrive to the dollar store and as usual, I have to go to the bathroom so bad I don't think I could even count to 10. This is the problem with my mom bladder. I either never have to use the restroom again in my life, or I am currently peeing my pants. I tell Brooks and Luke that I have to go to the bathroom extremely urgently and Brooks rolls his eyes and says to Luke "here we go again." I choose to ignore the comments and pull my children's arms out of their sockets across the parking lot so that I get to the bathroom in time.
11:42 a.m.
Meltdown in the Dollar Store while I try to pick out party favors. My son needs the birthday card that says "Happy 40th" or he will literally lose his mind. One lady pats me on the back and says "it gets better, but not for about 10 years." I consider sitting down and crying but I have to buck up because nap time is soon and there is a chance I will get to bang my head against the wall alone. I go into survival mode and let the boys each pick out some food from a shady aisle that somehow has 30 brands of chips, but none I have ever heard of. Where are these made and packaged, I wonder? The expiration is shockingly far away and my kids are eating flaming hot Cheetos and canned mandarin oranges in the cart. People have begun to stare and whisper but I am so close to done. I start throwing baby wipes at them and head for the checkout.
12:43 p.m.
My voice is raising and the boys can sense the tension. I have already changed into my large t-shirt and they know the drill and begin to retreat closer to their rooms.
Maybe I will write about my afternoon tomorrow. If I don't, you can bet your mama's heirlooms that I am watching some Housewives in a large t-shirt.
xoxo Big Mama
