This Day is SO Not Happening

I’m writing this as my day progresses because the sheer amount of chaos that has been packed into it before lunch time simply has to be documented. It’s long but I assure you it’s in no way an embellishment of my reality. Once you’re through reading I anticipate you’ll feel my pain and want to request my mailing address so you can send me Starbucks , Nordstrom, or Chick Fil A gift cards. Feel free to do that.

Let’s start at 5:45 this morning when my sweet angel baby woke up for the third time of the night. I nursed him back to sleep, laid back down in bed next to my comfortably snoozing husband, and realized quickly that going back to bed for a few minutes before his alarm went off would do more harm then good so I fumbled for my glasses and figured I may as well have a few minutes to myself.

Que cup of hot tea and time for a blog entry. Done and done. About the time I published my entry C woke up again. We met Chris for some morning smiles and wouldn’t ya know it K decided being awake before 7 today was a superb idea. Family fun in the bathroom! Yay! No. Negative.

Thankfully I had enough energy to muster up some microwaved sausage biscuits and a bowl of oatmeal before starting to fill my child with even more nutrition in the form of frozen waffles. Not made with whole grain. Or probably even real blueberries.

It was at this time that I realized I had been pooped on. My only white nursing tank had been blessed with baby poop and I wasn’t sure how long it had been there. A quick look later and C and his not cheap Aden and Anais blanket were also equally blessed. Chris took this opportunity of calmness in our home to leave for work as I stumbled through the house looking for a shirt with a screaming baby and a toddler wondering where her morning fiber and vitamins were. I assure you within the two hours of being awake K was able to beat her personal record for saying “Mom!” or asking a trillion and seven questions. Nicely done, kid.

Of course this was the morning I had a preschool mom’s group at the church. I hadn’t showered and the only logical thing to do was put on shorts that give everyone the impression that I in any way exercise and cover my hair with a head wrap signaling I was both in shape and stylish at the same time. Both kids were kind of dressed and kind of fed when I decided it would be an epic idea to wake up C from the five minute cat nap he began in his swing to run to Walgreens and pick up pictures.

It was at the store that K decided she had to pee and I forgot my credit card. Mommy win! So we came home. And I fed C. And K told me, and I quote, “Mom! You need to come wipe me!” about 78 times. Great. That’s always SUCH news to my ears. Little toddler butts: so cute, no? This all of course is transpiring while C is trying to fall asleep, again. I dropped him off in his swing to tend to the toddler butt to find the toddler butt did not in fact need tending to. Clearly K has made up a new game. Mama does not like the “let’s call Mama away from her Very Important Duties to tend to a huge emergency.” Someone needs to teach my kid how to not be dramatic. Clearly I’m doing a fantastic job. I have no idea where she gets it. Ahem.

It’s 9:07AM. I literally uttered, “We’re leaving. Now. Before Mama loses her mind.” And we did. Saxby’s or bust, yo. I needed caffeine like the addict that I am and just as we pulled in I realized I have somehow forgotten my free latte card. The emotional eater in me who eats when she’s sad, mad, bored, or happy came to the conclusion that Chick Fil A would do. CFA or bust, y’all! I made the epic mommy fail decision of announcing to K where we were going, thus locking me into my commitment regardless of if I had a seizure while driving or not. One cannot simply change one’s mind about going to CFA. It’s a cardinal toddler rule I’ve learned the hard way. Wouldn’t ya know it some lady had rear ended a truck IN THE DRIVE THRU and so began my dilemma. Do I lug both kids in just for a chicken biscuit or do I drive to the next exit down where I can go to Starbucks and use a gift card AND go to CFA  or do I cut my losses, say “forget this,” drive home, and lock myself in my room while hoping for the best for my littles? Mommy sanity enters at this point and we trek to the closest CFA.

I managed to find a frequent buyer card from our local branch (so embarrassing….) and ended up with one biscuit free. Score! Except, not, because I turned around to find K had crumbled an entire fig bar into small pieces in her car seat. Face palm. I gave her the too hot biscuit anyway, told her to blow on it, and turned on the radio in hopes of hearing something other than the cursing in my own head.

Enter Starbucks trip. I placed my order with my screaming infant in the back, pulled up, tried to pay and was ignored. I asked the lady for my drink over the screams of my kid while she shot the breeze with a coworker. As I sucked down my iced Caramel Macchiato like the addict I am the barista had the audacity to look at me and say, “Is there a crying baby in your car?” I simultaneously wanted to punch and strangle this woman. No, Starbucks Lady Without A Clue, that’s just the background noise I elect to have as I drive merrily down the road. It’s soothing and calming wouldn’t you agree? Doesn’t the shrieking sound eerilly similar to Enya? Kinda makes you want to hike to a serene hilltop and then (very likely) jump off, eh? I bet you’re in such a state of tranquility as you brew espresso shots and pump syrup into those recycled paper cups wearing your Birkenstocks and silently jamming to Dave Matthews that you wouldn’t DREAM of being phased by something as sweet as little baby cries. I chose to die to my flesh and respond with “Yes, that’s why I asked you for my coffee before I paid.” It was the least tame of the other options I had. I could have been more Christ like, I know.

I made it to church right on time, handed my non-crying baby off to a woman who I may or may not know, and dropped K off in her class. After being kicked out by my three year old because she’s that grown up, I was solidified in my thoughts that she really only needs me for snacks and turning on the TV sound bar. Perhaps an occasional fixing of a princess dress, but beyond that, she’s got it figured out. *sigh*

C lasted an hour in the session and then proceeded to spit up all over two onesies, three burp cloths, my shirt, two blankets, myself, himself, two other gals, and probably even a partridge in a pear tree. I left early wearing only a spaghetti strap (real modest like) and he rocked the diaper and pitiful look of a baby whose mom doesn’t have a clue. His eyes silently screaming to those around him, “Save me from this woman!” Thankfully for him he’s now asleep and can dream of far off lands where his sister doesn’t attack him with “helping” hugs.

K informed me when we got home she was hungry. When I say we have no food in our house because I’m trying to boycott the adventure of grocery shopping this week, I’m only slightly exaggerating. So I added to my kid’s daily nutrient dense caloric intake with some nitrate filled turkey and watermelon. This, ladies and gentlemen, is what my child had for lunch. Maybe some water to wash it down. I wouldn’t know because I sent her outside to blow bubbles while I cried silently to myself for Chris to magically have a half day so I can run far, far, FAR away and hide hugging my knees and rocking slowly.

1:30PM-I find K outside in her car watching Fresh Beat Band on her Kindle. I breathe a sigh of relief because I had no idea where she was. The past eight hours of being awake has drained my cognitive function. I’ll lock all the doors now so I don’t accidentally lose my kids.

Both kids finally fall asleep which means the all-important Mommy Nap Time can commence. Not 20 minutes into my “nap” the doorbell rings and I of course ignore it. Until I hear crazy noise on my roof. The only logical thing to do is grab a knife, enter 911 on my phone and walk outside fully convinced I can take my potential intruder. Standing outside was our neighbor and a roof inspector looking for hail damage from our recent hail storm. Imagine their surprise when I walk out like a crazy lady, and my embarrassment to find that this had already been discussed with my husband. I’m sure our neighbors will never talk to me again. I don’t blame them. I’m also not going back to sleep.

It seems the laundry and my dishwasher have missed me and are beckoning I tend to them. It’s time for my kids to be old enough to take care of these nuisances. Perhaps I’ll tell K that if she’s old enough to go to her preschool class by herself she’s old enough to complete a load of laundry because clearly those are things people who don’t need their mom anymore can do.

Chris blessed me and brought home dinner. Nothing says “I love you” like buffalo wings and the ability to go to bed at 8:30.

In the midst of the chaos i was encouraged through prayers from my mom amd husband, a sweet gal from church gave us an unexpected gift for little man, and a miracle in the form of both littles napping simultaneously. 

Yesterday was the most trying day I can remember in a very long time. In hindsight,  a very early morning and non caffeinated hindsight,  I realize my day is just one of many more like it to come. Letting go of plans, asking for commitments back, and seriously contemplating locking myself in my room are just part of the game. Facing my control issues head on is ugly but so necessary.  Here’s hoping next time I can face the day with more optimism and an extra set of clothes.

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