It was shy of 930 am and I nearly posted an Instagram of my overcrowded lap with a teary toddler and a caption that announced I’ve already given the official desperate plea for two minutes alone from my kids. To which they dryly replied, ‘no’ and interrupted my explanation of what a rhetorical question is. Then I remembered, Instagram doesn’t want to hear the same worn story about the stay at home mom who willfully had three kids in four years and now never gets a moment alone. That’s what the blog is for! Here I can unfurl my exciting stay at home mom life in all it’s suspenfully monotonous play by play with the inevitable conclusion that no day is hopeless, it’s filled with joy, family is the best blessing, blah, blah, blah.
If I tell you that I literally had no more than four minutes all alone today, that would be a fact with a Schrute guarantee. Usually this doesn’t get to me, except for the sleepless night preceding today’s events, tandem crying sprees at nap time and hearing Levi say ‘huh?!’….’what did you say??’….’pardon me?’ until I answered him (even if I hadn’t said a word). He aced his hearing test though, so there’s a large possibility I’m involuntarily murmuring to me, myself and I.
When the opportunity came at nap time to find some time alone to do something for M-E, ME! I wanted to chose carefully. So I picked reading the kindle, because I felt uninspired to write and it sounded way better than a Bikini Body Mommy workout (which I’ve done once so far, but I will tell you to your face that I started her 90 day challenge – I’ll do them all eventually, I’m pretty sure).
So fast forward to reading for 3.8 minutes and there is Levi standing silently beside me. Pursed lips, shifting eyes, ‘Can I come out of quiet time?’ ‘Not yet honey, a little longer. Mom is having quiet time too’. This satisfies him for his first request and off he stomps down the hall as I yell ‘ninja feet!!’, negating the purpose of them anyways. Non-ninja feet and squawking mom are so loud that they disrupt Lenayah’s delicate internal balance of being lulled and shushed and tucked to sleep. She activates a nap-time crying spree and wakes up Dawson.
As I sit with a crying baby in his dark room, I listen to another crying toddler, and another one clanking at the kitchen counters doing who-knows-what. Two thoughts, 1. this is one of those days that is called ‘one of those days’ 2. why for the love of all that is reasonable did I make our booze budget so small that I can’t have a resident winebox in the fridge like all other middle class white women?!
So, back to the living room, with my two boys at my feet, and I felt like I needed to talk to God about how messy my heart was getting. I started writing in my prayer journal. Don’t be impressed by my religious devotions, apparently my most recent entry was in 2013. However, my brain was like thought soup, I had to list all the ingredients on paper to understand what was in the bowl and what better place than my prayer journal.
I got some totally awesome prayers on paper and shut the book. I was met with a much happier Dawson who (finally) pooped. Lenayah submitted to the sweet slumber of a late afternoon nap that will kick me in the butt later. Levi stopped asking me to put his trainset together and did it himself.The quality of my attitude just improved 76%. Then I ate some hidden halloween chocolate – so 88%. THEN, cue a sound like sweet little cleaning fairies whisping about the house sweeping up spilt quinoa with magic quinoa-sweeping brooms; a message from my neighbour ‘can Levi play?’. Shoes on, out the door, look both ways before you cross the road and we are at 100% capacity to enjoy this chaos. Even if it means letting Lenayah paint my nails and never removing it for the next two weeks because it makes me so dang proud how dearly she loved to do it.
I got dinner made, the kids bathed and then left the house once Conor came home and Dawson was down. I went and bought a giant wheel of brie (it was half off and I have no self control in the realm of cheese on sale), a bottle of red and some snap peas.
So, yes, I am of the ‘no day is hopeless’ camp. Sure, there are mess and tears, no doubt some emotional eating until I can get my hands on a glass of vino. But my coping skills are infantile and a prayer journal is the most grown up thing I can muster today….aside from eating a salad that had quinoa and beets in it. Impressive eh!?Update: It’s 10pm and Lenayah is still up shouting random demands down the hall to me. But I have Brie. Brie doesn’t need another glass of water, her other dolly, her blanket the flipped around, a lullaby…..Brie understands.
What get’s you through those days that being a mom feels overwhelming?
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