Over the past several months we have been featuring stories from mothers in different stages of life and with different motherhood stories. This is the final post in the Series: we all committed to blogging about our day – Today. At the end check out links to “a day in the life” of the other mommy bloggers, too!
Monday, December 17th 2012
12:01am – I decide to go back to the kitchen and get the cough syrup because I can’t stop coughing.
1:15am – BulldozerBaby is fussing. I think he must have wet his diaper. He is saying something over and over but I don’t understand him. The cough syrup obviously is working because I fall back asleep despite my concern.
1:45am – I
kick nudge RockstarDad and grunt, indicating that he should go change BulldozerBaby’s diaper. Ever since I stopped nursing BB in July he won’t let me do bedtime or night-changings; he still wants to nurse and will wail bloody murder if I put him to bed. Ergo RockstarDad gets all middle-o-the-night baby activities. I am very grateful and yet (slightly, secretly, ashamedly) happy that he gets to do it since I had to for the first 14 months when I got up every three hours to nurse…
3am – I think RockstarDad had to get up again. I’m not sure. I think there is codeine in the cough syrup.
5am – BB is wailing again. RD gets up and changes him again. I think he turns off his alarm. He snuggles me. Because he is awesome.
5:30am – I decide I better get up and take my shower before RD leaves. Otherwise I might not get one. (Experience is a cruel teacher.) I remember to practice gratitude in the shower, praying for everyone and thing I am grateful for. My mood improves considerably. I start to do some yoga and get into it about five minutes when BB wakes up screaming. I get him out of the crib and take him to the kitchen with me.
6:00am – I heat up some leftover dairy-free quiche (frozen in individual serving sizes) for breakfast. I still have no appetite so I save the rest for RocketGirl. RockstarDad decides he would rather have a biscuit, but BulldozerBaby devours his quiche. BB takes his plate to the kitchen all by himself for the first time. He is adorable. Both the kids have chores: set and clear the table as soon as they are old enough to walk, help empty the dishwasher, clean up toys, etc. and RocketGirl makes her own bed.
7:00am- RG rolls out of bed. She has breakfast at the table and sees the drawings her daddy left for her. (RD is a pretty good artist.) RG’s in a great mood and I am so very grateful. It’s been weeks since the kids have been healthy and happy. They watch Sesame Street (without whining, hurting one another or bothering me – W00t!) while I work on the computer – checking emails, typing this, etc.
8:00am – I dress the kids and head out the door. RG has preschool today. I am grateful for her wonderful teachers. She is so excited to be back after a week out sick.
8:30am – I pray for my husband, the kids and teachers while I drive to school. As I pull into the parking lot I realize that I forgot RG’s lunch. Sigh.
9am – I unbuckle RG and BB, balancing BB on my hip as I take RG into class. I talk to her teachers for a couple of minutes, they try to convince me not to talk because I sound so awful, I almost cry when I kiss RG’s pretty little head goodbye, then I wrestle BB back from destroying the preschool nativity and walk back to the car.
9:30am – BB has fallen asleep in the car. He doesn’t wake up when I pull into our lot. I carry him, still sleeping and place him in bed. Sigh. I take the opportunity to finish RG’s teacher’s Christmas gifts. They look lovely.
10am – I decide that since BB is still sleeping soundly I should work for a couple of minutes before waking him up and going all the way back to the school so RG gets her lunch in time. I feel light-headed so I take my temperature but it is normal. I decide that maybe I am hungry now so I make myself a wrap with turkey deli meat, cracked pepper, raw crushed garlic and mayo. (Weird, I know, but it is quick and the garlic might help my cold.)
Lost track of time: Woke up BB around 10:40ish, rushed to the school to make it there before lunchtime. Dropped off RG’s lunch. Got gas. Picked up some long-sleeved shirts for BB from Goodwill. Downed a Diet Coke for energy. Did a little shopping at Earth Fare – the specialty stuff that the discount grocer and Target don’t carry. We pretended we were astronauts and astounded the fellow patrons with BB’s tremendous vocabulary and gentlemanly manners. (BB always says “pweas,” “may I?” and “tank you!”) In the parking lot, I watched from afar as a woman placed balloons on a gravestone… Prayed for her. Picked up RG from school. Someone cut me off. Called him an A-hole in front of the kids. (But at least I literally said “A. Hole.” and not the real word. Hey, it’s an improvement. Being honest here, ladies. I ain’t a saint. I try. SO darn hard. I love Jesus Christ, but I am definitely a work in progress.)
1:30pm: Put kids to bed for naptime. BB is still screaming his head off. His screaming is making RG (who admitted she was tired and wanted a nap today) scream, too. I just want to pee. The toilet is backed up. I think BB threw in a toy, clothes or probably something expensive of mine – it’s just that kind of day. I want to cry. I’m exhausted, my throat hurts and – while I love my kids oh so dearly – I just wish they would be quiet!
Five minutes later, when I’m about to cave, they both get silent. I worry. I tiptoe to their door to check on them. And then I think to myself, “Are you a moron? After four years of child-raising, don’t you know better?”
All I want to do is take a nap, but since I’ve been sick for a week the house is disgusting, floors haven’t been washed in a month, laundry is piled everywhere, where there isn’t laundry there are toys, there are Cheerios ground into the carpeting *in the living room,* bills haven’t been paid, the kids haven’t eaten a home-cooked whole foods dinner in a week and I have work to do. That’s not counting all the gift wrapping and Christmas cards that still need to be done.
Despite my earlier advice I tiptoe back to their room to check on them. They are both breathing. And asleep. Praise the Lord! (What can I say: I’m a mom! It’s what we do.) With a sigh of relief I go back to work.
What is “work”?
Well, I’m obviously a blogger – that requires about 5-10 hours a week depending on what blog rings, linkys, guest posts, reviews and giveaways I’ve committed to this month. Then I am a Virtual Assistant (VA) and I try to work 10-15 hours a week. I also do some consulting (sometimes paid, others volunteer) – graphics design and writing – and that takes about 5 hours a week.
If you’ve added this all up – yes, that is almost 30 hours a week. In addition to caring for the kids all day and normal homemaking tasks all moms do. And I consider myself blessed. Blessed by the opportunity to stretch my mind, help others and make a little extra to spend on the kids.
It’s a miracle when I can actually get any of it done. And the house is usually chaos. I haven’t gone to the gym since the day before Thanksgiving. And to think that I was trying to run a cattle farm on top of all that, too! I don’t know how these super-mommy-bloggers do it. Hats off to you, ladies. You are freakin’ A.Maz.Ing.
3:30pm: The kids have been awake for about fifteen minutes now. They are watching Sesame Street, eating pretzel sticks and drinking ice water out of (day-old) sippies, while I finish a couple of the VA tasks I was working on. The house is still a wreck, dirty dishes are piled high in the sink and I had to re-run the load of laundry in the machine because it smells like mildew from sitting in the machine too long. I decide to read my Christmas Devotional to fix my bad attitude. Instead I get distracted by an email that references a discussion; after I log into FaceBook the kids start screaming they are hungry so I go peel an orange for them. Shortly thereafter RG yells, “Wipe my butt! I POOPED!!!” which is when I realize there is no toilet paper in the bathroom. (There hasn’t been since Saturday.) So I go get more from downstairs. And it’s almost time to make dinner…
4pm: I turn off the TV and instruct the kids to help with chores. They put all the clean dish towels away and help load the dishwasher. It is BB’s turn to put the Cascade packet in the dishwasher. I am taking photos and so it takes me a minute to throw the camera and pull a packet out of his mouth. By then he’s bit it open and his mouth is foaming and I scream at RG to get out of the way as I literally hose out his mouth with water from the kitchen tap. I can’t believe I don’t have freakin’ poison control on speed dial. I refill his sippy with coconut milk and force him to drink as much as he can. I Google and then call Poison Control. They say he’s going to be fine. I apologize to RG for yelling at her and then go to the bathroom to cry.
4:30pm: I planned on getting the chicken in the oven much earlier. Now dinner will be late. I season the chicken and throw it in the oven. I peel the eyes off the potatoes with my fingers, rinse them with vinegar-water and toss them in a big bucket of water on the stove. Instead of green bean casserole I feed the kids frozen peas (still frozen) and count it as “good enough.” I color with the kids, tickle them, chase them and then turn on Thomas at 5pm. Turn it off at 5:15pm because peas have been tossed all over the living room. Clean up the peas – no longer frozen. Screaming ensues. Play play-doh instead.
6pm: Hubby is home so I go back to my VA job while the kids
jump on play with him. I stick a thermometer in the chicken; it is only 140′ so I bump up the temp to 450′F. I work some more.
6:15p I peel the potatoes by dunking them into ice water and tearing the peel from the flesh using my thumbs. There’s a reason I don’t wear nail polish. I mash them with coconut cream concentrate and salt for the kids and butter for the adults.
6:30p: The friggin’ chicken still isn’t done! I feed the kids mashed potatoes to quell the screaming. RD ends up having to put BB to bed before dinner is even ready. (Don’t worry about BB starving; he’s had two bowls full of frozen veggies and almost a cup of mashed potatoes and a cup of coconut milk by now.)
7pm: Dinner’s (finally) ready. RG eats one tiny piece of diced chicken and wants to color instead. RD and I eat chicken and potatoes. Neither of us care about veggies anymore. After dinner I pick the rest of the chicken from the bones, box it up and put the bones in the crockpot with water, salt and bay. I keep diced celery and onions (the nasty ends that we wouldn’t ordinarily eat) in the freezer for just this purpose; I break off a chunk and toss those into the pot, too. By morning we will have chicken stock for soup tomorrow night. Leftover soup will be lunches for BB and I the rest of the week. I go back to work because I have a conference call at 8pm.
Except then I realize that I can’t have a conference call because I don’t have a voice. I still have laryngitis. I finally take off my apron to realize that my wedding ring is missing from the front pocket. (Ironically, I take my rings off whenever I work in the kitchen so I don’t lose one. Or both. Ugh.) RD and I search the house for it, but it is nowhere to be found. We joke that hopefully BB didn’t eat that, too. Maybe if we vacuum we can find it. Like we did last time…
8:30pm – By now RD has finished putting RG to bed, cleaning the whole kitchen and straightening the living room. Because he rocks. I love him so much. I am writing this. I am sad that I lost my ring. (This is the second wedding ring I’ve lost/destroyed. Thank God I still have the engagement ring.) I am tired.
9:45pm: I give up. I’m done. I need Advil. I’m going to make myself some dairy-free “ice cream” or hot tea for my throat. Then I’m going to flop on the couch with RD and watch Star Trek. Life is Grand.
Is this a typical day? What does all of this really say about me?
I don’t know. Quite frankly I am too tired to care. I’m a mom. I love my kids, my husband and God more than anything. I want to be one of those “Jesus Girls,” – you know those perfectly put-together Southern ladies who do everything right? The ones who never cuss, always know the right thing to say to everybody and manage to look like a calm saint while they’re doing it? I really want to be. I’m trying. But I’m still a work in progress and this is honestly what a day for me looks like. How about you?
Check out “the day” FOR these participating mommy bloggers, too!
For more info on the series, check out the first post HERE.