There are some days in my mothering career when, at long last, the day seems to be drawing to a close (but you never really know if it’s really ending, do you?) and I look around and think,
What did I do all day? And why do I feel like I’ve been run over by 10,000 of my son’s toy tractors?
Honestly, every selfish bone in my body wants to explain in minute detail to my husband exactly what it is that I do all day. Because he’s my only real friend in life. But it’s kind of pointless because why? This is my life and for the most part, I am choosing it.
But I do have a blog. And I know how to use it. So here you have it, a riveting account of the past 24 hours of my life. You’re welcome.
11:30 pm last night: Vow to set my alarm for 5 o’clock am to cook a hearty, homemade breakfast for everyone’s first day back to school, write, and exercise.
12:30 am: Go to bed. Definitely do not set alarm.
5:30 am: Am awakened by crying baby. Settle down in rocking chair to nurse her with plans to feed her quickly then head downstairs to cook waffles and compose literary masterpiece.
7:30 am: Wake up in rocking chair with baby still latched on, a massive kink in my neck, and full-on drool on my chin. Race to get kids ready and out the door.
8:15 am: Kiss everyone goodbye, husband drops off girls at school on his way to work. Look in the mirror and realize that I look like actual death and that one of my boobs is leaking milk.
8:16 am: Listen carefully for remaining at-home children and decide I am safe to attempt to get dressed. Miracle of miracles!
8:30 am: Tip toe upstairs to get dressed (bathrooms in remodel, so family of five have been using tiny downstairs bathroom, much fun ensues), spot toddler peering out suspiciously from his big boy bed, from which he has just spent his first night. Get him dressed, decide now would be a fabulous time to clean out his closet and vacuum his room.
8:50 am: Baby still sleeping. (What the wha??) Head downstairs with son, cook him a bagel and egg sandwich that he first demands, then refuses to eat. Toast new bagel, top with toddler’s preferred pound of cream cheese.
9:00 am: Make myself a pot of hazelnut coffee and my own bagel sandwich. Hop on the computer, answer a few emails and promote a few posts.
9:15-10 am: Turn on PBS for Jake after he takes his daily 20-minute dump. Sara up, dressed, nursed, two loads of laundry folded and put away.
10-10:40: Get downstairs tidied up, throw the world’s most unhealthy soup in the crockpot with “help” of two-year-old, get everyone cloaked in winter attire to make the arctic trek to preschool pick-up.
10:55: Pull up in the preschool pick-up line for the first time ever in my life. Rejoice that the preschool teachers have taken pity upon me and the other mothers of babies and offered to walk our kids out. Game.changer. Make doctor and hair appointments while parked.
11-12: Go through preschool papers, clean kitchen again, open up a box of happy mail–new stockings!–and decorate the house with Christmas lights as Sara sits in her car seat and fills her drawers with a rumble that sounds like an earthquake.
12-12:30: Pick baby up before I realize that she has had the worst blow-out of her life and I have now smeared poop on 1) her car seat 2) all over myself 3) on the bench cushion where I attempted to change her diaper. Sprint upstairs, enlist help of 4-year-old to fetch me a grocery bag, bathe and dress baby, which involves clearing a path out of our tore-up bathroom, clean up poop everywhere, mostly with wet wipes. Trick 4-year-old into holding baby so I can throw on another load of laundry. Does not work, baby screams. Break a sweat as I sprint up and down the stairs to the basement to switch laundry. Wonder why I’m not skinnier with all this running, then remember my intense love for all things baked.
12:30: Panic when I realize it’s 12:30 and I haven’t even started lunch. Start to boil water for (don’t worry it’s pretend organic) mac and cheese, toddler sees me and immediately starts yelling that he does not want the meal he normally begs for at all hours of the day (and night.) I plead with him, as mac and cheese is a meal I can make one-handed. He does not relent. Put baby on play mat and make PB & J’s as fast as humanly possible. We are now out of peanut butter. Start shopping list. Nurse baby while children eat at their trough. Eat Thanksgiving leftovers and some green beans for lunch.
1-2 pm: Fight toddler to nap in his new big boy bed. Does not go well.
2 pm: Text my mom begging her to pick up Ada from school so I don’t have to wake Jake up early and deal with the resulting grumpiness. Let Mya watch Ice Age clips on YouTube while I swaddle and nurse baby to sleep. Success!
2:15 pm: Decide to just clean up the kitchen real quick and then get to work.
2:30 pm: Am just finishing sweeping up the floor when the baby starts crying.
2:31: Settle down on couch with baby and attempt to write a post one-handed. Does not go well.
2:35: Give up and lay on rug to color with Mya. Mother texts back that she can pick up Ada, I nonchalantly ask if she wants to swing by and get Mya on her way. Smile evilly when my plan succeeds.
3:15 pm: Mother stops in, takes Mya to school pick-up. I race upstairs to try to get baby to sleep. Succeed.
3:30-5: Somehow manage to work for a solid block of time and make it count. Type out two posts for Disney Baby and one for Mom.me. Do a little bit of other work. Husband comes home and we make a plan to pick up big kids at my mom’s and go get the toilet we ordered at Home Depot. The excitement is really too much. Nurse baby again.
5-6:45: Get kids, split up while I get groceries with #1 and #4 and hubby gets toilet with #2 and #3. Observe that grocery store seems to be vomiting up Frozen merchandise in ever aisle.
7 pm: Home, baby asleep in car seat. Decide to exercise before dinner. (Am on day 7 of 30 day Shred with Jillian Michaels. Holla.) Husband and I have a really stupid fight.
7:45 pm: Nurse baby while rest of family sits down to eat. Husband and I forge peace.
8 pm-10 pm: Clean-up, baths, answer a few emails while I load the dishwasher and group text my family, nurse baby to sleep.
10 pm: Shower. Decide to take a night off and do not wash hair. Mentally compose this post in my head. Berate myself for being such a loser as to mentally compose a blog post in the shower.
10:30 pm: Sit down to write this post while watching Netflix. Husband has mysteriously gone missing, assume he is sleeping in toddler’s room. Consider waking him up, but then decide watching cheesy Christmas movies alone is more important.
11:30: Giving up and going to bed. Don’t even pretend to set alarm tonight. Maybe I’m finally learning.