There’s Humor in this Ridiculous Day

Sometimes life just downright gets you down!  Today was a rollercoaster of a day with some stinking low lows.  After relaying the facts of the evening to my beloved husband he says. “Wow – quite a day!  And honestly, it sounds like very humorous blog material.”  And I had only told him about the last few paragraphs!  But he’s right.  I used to think, “this would make a great blog story” all the time during life’s less than convenient moments.  When did I loose my sense of humor?  I suppose around Maisy’s 5 month mark when my kid proved to be an unending sleep battle and I proved unfit to function pleasantly with 6 something hours of sleep interrupted every 45 minutes for about a half an hour of wakefulness.  Ah well, now’s the time to steal my humor back – sleep or no sleep.

Let’s hope you can appreciate an honest mom and find the humor in this ridiculous day.

Today we woke at a lovely 7am hour.  I was happily nursing my toddler in bed until I realized I was bleeding through my pants.  Talk about a mood buster!  So I pull my nipple out of her mouth and book it down the stairs to the bathroom leaving her in a confused, but not unpleasant, stupor in the bedroom.  Strike one.

I throw all the kids in the car, my one plus two day care kids, and zoom over to a friends house for a “coffee and conversation” get together.  Lovely.  Got lots of snuggles from my three shy and cuddly kids.  Upon packing them up to leave though, mine decides to erupt because her nap time timer buzzed code red.  Strike two.

We zoom to pick up my fourth day care kid which was on the receiving end of some missed communication.  Her poor mom was left stranded without someone to get her girl so she could go to work because she couldn’t get a hold of her peeps, me included.  Shame on me.  Strike three.

How many strikes do you get again?

By the time I pull into my driveway two kids are passed out, one already passed out then awoke again, and the littlest one that we just picked up is growling about something.  Then onto the task of getting everyone successfully settled and happy.  Step one, don’t wake the Maisy!  Leave her in the car with the windows cracked to sleep or slam your fist into the nearest wall in regretful anger at yourself for attempting to move her at all.  Check.  Step two, bring the two sisters to their prospective beds for them to peaceably roll over and go back to sleep.  Check.  Step three get Emrie some milk and a diaper change.  Check.  Uncheck.  Maisy’s awake. I bring her up to her room hoping beyond a hope she’ll go back to sleep.  Instead I read on my watch a whopping 15 minutes of nap time for my stinker. And this power nap is supposed to last her all day?  Strike four.

Fast forward through an afternoon of regular activities like sending your poorly slept toddler out to play in the backyard so as to spare myself her constant stream of yelled demands.  If she can’t see me, she can’t yell at me. This is a heavenly idea until Maisy decides bird baths are for fun splash time.  Gross!  I strip her down and in the process jam her tooth into her lip thus awakening a sobbing, bleeding toddler.  Strike five.

I give her the rare bubble bath in favor of fun bubble time with Harper on the sidelines to massage those bubbles into Maisy’s bird poop hair.  We had a blast decorating Maisy’s face and hair with bubbles until one moment Maisy looks me square in the face, bubble beard and all, and says “I go poo.”  “Did you go pee pee in the tub?”  No answer.  “Do you need to go poo?”  “Yeah.”  “You want to go on the potty?”  “No.”  I take that as my cue anyways and pull her out of the tub.  I dry her off, set her down, sit her on the potty… nothing.  She stands up, takes one step forward, and pees.  Strike six.

I do love my daily walks and so do the kids.  This much anticipated walk in this wonderfully warm November day was a breath of fresh air. On top of getting a walk in for the dogs and getting fresh air into some little kid lungs I get cardio and weight training in one blow.  Cardio and weight training at the same time? You ask.  Well, I strap one kid on my front, one on my back, push a stubborn double stroller with two well fed toddlers, and tote my two determined dogs alongside.  Vwala, cardio and weight training.  I do love to multitask.

At the walk’s end I get everyone unhooked, get the undies girl to the potty, and get my diapered girl on the potty per her special request.  She sits on the potty for a half a second, walks away to the play room, sits on the kiddie chair and pees two hours worth of pee into a giant puddle dripping from her pants onto the chair onto the floor.  I strip her down and splash her off in the tub and send her on her naked merry way so I can tidy up the puddle.  She promptly bolts to the time out corner and poops right on the time out mat.  Strike seven and eight.

I sit down to get some milk in Emrie’s belly when Maisy spits out pieces of a handmade ornament (yes, I have my Christmas tree up).  Strike nine.

Today it took nine strikes to turn my otherwise outwardly peaceful demeanor into war zone mom.

I pluck my half naked toddler off the ground and stomp her as far away from myself as I can in hopes of minimally hearing her screaming and saving myself from bellowing my war cry at her as I finish filling Emrie’s belly.  Strike ten.

Truth is, motherhood is the best and coolest job I will ever have.  I wouldn’t trade it for anything.  But man has my girl chosen to mature quickly and cash in her terrible two’s chips at 16 months.  I mean it can’t get worse right?  (Insert wink face here.)

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