I stuck my head out of the fog today and noticed that it is Monday. Again. How does this keep happening? Parenthood has brought with it the reality of having incredibly long days but weeks that are gone in a blink. At the end of the day in the one blissful hour I sometimes have to myself (during which I must also take a shower, sweep the kitchen, clean up dinner, and brush my teeth) I sometimes find myself thinking, “Dear God. How on earth did I make it through today?” Today was no different.
7AM wake-up for everyone. It goes like this: Toddler wakes up. Begins singing. Baby hears it over the monitor in our room and wakes up. He begins squirming next to me. I wake up and attempt to breathe in and out a few times before my 14 hour shift of being Mom begins (this rarely happens). Husband wakes up , reads a book to the toddler at her request, changes a diaper or two and gets ready for work. Nursing!
7:30- As I am just settling the toddler down with her oatmeal and fruit I am interrupted by a screaming baby. Checking on him confirms the worst. An up-the-back waist to neck poo-plosion has occurred. The only option is an immediate and merciless bath.
8AM- I finally make it back to the toddler who has wiped now-drying oatmeal all over herself, her hair, and the table all in the name of experimentation. “Look Mom! I’m rubbing it in!”
10:15- Finds us at the playground (finally) but no one else we know seems to be there. Instead a big kid of 7 or so attaches herself to my toddler and follows her around the park in a somewhat creepy way. The grandparents accompanying her seem to think this is normal. I try to go with it. UNTIL she starts sticking her head into the stroller to investigate the baby. I begin to sense Grizzly Mom kicking in and I remove us from the situation before my alternative personality can take hold.
More diapers! Snacktime! Nursing!
12:30- Toddler nap.
12:45- Baby teething episode. Earplugs are located and used. Nursing!
1:50- Monthly pest control worker shows up an hour and forty minutes early thus causing the dog to growl and bark during NAPTIME.
3- All of us escape the house to the relative peace of a nearby college campus where I proceed to lead the way toward a lovely fountain with my daughter’s lunch/snack picnic in hand. As she dunks her hands in the water I notice a large waterlogged blue-tailed skink floating by. It is followed by a second waterlogged creature which upon closer inspection turns out to be a mouse. Toddler is banished to a bench and the promised fountain dip is put off until another day. A brief attempt at explaining the difference between dead and alive is made.
More diapers! Nursing!
5:30- Husband comes home and a semblance of a dinner plan comes together. In this case it turns out to be fried potatoes with mushrooms, onion, and hamburger served with a green salad and steamed beets. The baby’s imminent screaming warranted a choice- soothe him or add more water to the beets? If you’ve ever tried to ignore a screaming baby then the choice is clear. The pot will never be the same again. Scorched beyond recognition. I think our house will smell this bad forever.
8- Toddler and baby are asleep. The temperature in the house reaches 83 degrees thanks in part to the beets which steamed for so long. Husband tells me, “You’re better at scorching things than anyone I know.” He is right. I developed that skill after we reproduced. We proceed to do the dishes, sweep the floor, fold the laundry, and exchange a brief, “How was your day?” Neither party is able to absorb anything the other says due to exhaustion. And also the fact that the air is acrid from the beet disaster and we have to spend most of our energy blinking and coughing.
8:30- Baby wakes up. More nursing.
9- Shower. Ahhhh.
10- Eating peanut butter out of the jar.
Somehow I’ll get up in the morning and live another life between the hours of 7 and 10. I’ll do it the next day and the next for years to come. Then next week or the week after the skies will clear and I’ll say, “Really? It’s Monday again. Huh.”