Pretty sure I know how to keep myself from going insane - and it doesn't involve a kid leash or an au pair; Keep the Kids Busy All Day. This morning I FINALLY got Kitten to school on time with all three kids dressed, groomed (that means hair brushed and teeth brushed, let's not get too fancy pants already) and fed. WOW!
And this is how our day shook out:
-Drop off Kitten at school
- Drive to grocery store, only to realize I left my phone at home so I drive back home to get it
- Head out to a different grocery store and alternate grocery shopping with helping Super H crack the next level of Angry Birds Seasons (don't judge, it kept him in the cart and mostly quiet and happy) and buying wipes because all you have is one dried up prune of a wipe left in your ginormous mom bag. Then I run to the bathroom to change Jackalope's diaper but said bathroom is under maintenance so I changed him in a corner by the bathroom with him standing up. *Sidenote - if you haven't mastered the standing up diaper change I highly suggest you practice now if you're kids are still in diapers. It's really useful for long car trips horror film bathrooms or non-kid friendly restaurants without a Koala Kare station.
-2 hours later, emerge from grocery store victorious and sane.
-Made a quick freezer meal for a friend, and while that was chilling kept the kids happy making home made playdough with glitter. Which I'm still finding traces of in the kitchen tonight.
-Run the freezer meal over to another friend for delivery and then hustle it over to the Farmer's Market.
-Allow strangers to ooh and ahh over adorable little boys being pulled in an oh-so-cute wagon that is wrenching my arm out but I smile through.
-Impulse buy $23 of organic, essential oils and a $5 photo of a chipmunk with his cheeks overstuffed. But that chipmunk photo is worth a lot more, it's by my desk and I'm smiling at it right now. I mean, who doesn't love chipmunks? Hawks, snakes, and weasels that's who doesn't like chipmunks, that's who. But I digress.
-Run home with goodies, make lunch for boys and finally scarf down a microwaved frozen burrito and fresh pepper strips. Stop lunch halfway through to clean up corn nuggets off the floor. Stop again to clean second spill of corn. Stop again to clean up third, and final, corn spill. Make a mental note to skip serving corn for a while.
-Out the door to get Kitten from school... as a giant deluge of Spring rain descends. Find rain coats, find umbrellas, put on rain boots... and the rain stops.
- Install 3rd car seat in back row for future use while the kids play "Who can splash in the most puddles and get completely soaked?" Super H won in case you were curious.
-Meet friends for Free Bowling and quickly learn you cannot talk to friends and keep your eye on a two and a half year old, four year old, and a 6 year old simultaneously. Everyone now knows Jackalope after hearing me call his name eighteen thousand times.
- Go out to McDonald's for the rare Happy Meal dinner and new Play Place. Kids are all germy from the bowling alley, how much worse can the play place be?
- Drive home for showers, pjs, teeth brushing, two books, homework, and oh-my-gosh-we-have-to-make-the-teacher-surprise-tonight moment.
It's now 10:30 and I've realized something. I'm tired. Like really tired. I better go to sleep before they wake up and want to do this all again tomorrow.
This would have been easier with Dad to share the load at night, but this sure beats a day at the office! Night kiddos, Mommy loves you. Try to remember that as I'm barking at you tomorrow to "hustle up", "slow down", "strap in", "unbuckle", "have fun" and "use your inside voice".
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Saturday, May 25, 2013
Daddy Envy
I know it's not easy for my husband being away from home, missing us, missing his own couch and big screen TV to watch sports, home cooked meals. Well, I wouldn't want to be away from my family for weeks at a time. As much as they drive me cookoo for Coco Puffs sometimes, I adore my little kiddos and their Dad Extraordinaire.
But, and you knew there was a but, I can't help but be a little envious of my husbands ability to live like we did 7 years ago, before the kids came. Do you remember what is was like to go to sleep when you wanted to? To eat something hot? To sit in quiet? To walk in and out of a store without buckling and unbuckling three little wiggly bodies first? To go pee by yourself without someone with a squeaky voice and sticky fingers trying to bust in the door asking for a snack during those precious 45 seconds you're "alone"? Nope, me either.
They are like a distant dream, a foggy remembrance of another life. A life before kids (often referred to as B.K.) And Dad Extraordinaire gets a 4 month parole from the lifetime sentence of parent this summer. He gets to live the B.K. life. Granted with some serious sacrifices but at the end of the day I am constantly reminded why I don't want to be a single mom for real. It's hard to be a good mom when it's just you pulling 100% of the weight. Heck, it's hard to be good mom period.
So to all you single moms and military moms and widowed moms, my hat is off to you. I have to do this for a tiny little bit of time, you are doing it full time and I applaud you. You're stronger than I'll ever know.
For now, my house is going to be a bunch more messier than it was. My hair is never going to be colored because who has the time to stand in the bathroom for 40 minutes plus a shower? I mean really, do you know how many times I would be asked for snacks as I'm standing there in my worst clothes with hair dye dripping on my shoulders reading a magazine from five months ago that I'm reading for the first time now? But my kids are going to be happier with a saner mom who isn't trying to be a Super Mom achieving a level of domestic perfection known only B.K. I'm just going to love on them.... and teach them how to unload the dishwasher.
But, and you knew there was a but, I can't help but be a little envious of my husbands ability to live like we did 7 years ago, before the kids came. Do you remember what is was like to go to sleep when you wanted to? To eat something hot? To sit in quiet? To walk in and out of a store without buckling and unbuckling three little wiggly bodies first? To go pee by yourself without someone with a squeaky voice and sticky fingers trying to bust in the door asking for a snack during those precious 45 seconds you're "alone"? Nope, me either.
They are like a distant dream, a foggy remembrance of another life. A life before kids (often referred to as B.K.) And Dad Extraordinaire gets a 4 month parole from the lifetime sentence of parent this summer. He gets to live the B.K. life. Granted with some serious sacrifices but at the end of the day I am constantly reminded why I don't want to be a single mom for real. It's hard to be a good mom when it's just you pulling 100% of the weight. Heck, it's hard to be good mom period.
So to all you single moms and military moms and widowed moms, my hat is off to you. I have to do this for a tiny little bit of time, you are doing it full time and I applaud you. You're stronger than I'll ever know.
For now, my house is going to be a bunch more messier than it was. My hair is never going to be colored because who has the time to stand in the bathroom for 40 minutes plus a shower? I mean really, do you know how many times I would be asked for snacks as I'm standing there in my worst clothes with hair dye dripping on my shoulders reading a magazine from five months ago that I'm reading for the first time now? But my kids are going to be happier with a saner mom who isn't trying to be a Super Mom achieving a level of domestic perfection known only B.K. I'm just going to love on them.... and teach them how to unload the dishwasher.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Frenemy Mine; Fancy Frig Freezer
Last year after our white side by side refrigerator heaved it's last gasping breath and then proceeded to die, bleeding melted ice all over the kitchen floor, we got a new stainless steele model. She is so pretty, so sleek, so modern, so effiicient. Pretty much everything I wish I could be.
Now I know to most everyone, a new refrigerator is not a big deal but after dealing with narrow shelves that required an engineering degree and a Can-Do! attitude in order to find and store food this new frig is a big deal. I affectionately call her Big Bertha. Yes, I also named my car but that's best kept to myself for now lest you discover I'm totally wacko just yet.
Big Bertha has two lovely french doors with wide shelves that hold a take out pizza box or a platter or hors d'oeuvres easily and without requiring me to frown and mutter as I try to angle these items just right without all the food slipping to the edge of the container and forming a food blob. On these doors are an ice and water dispenser which I use constantly as I am a water-holic that drinks water all day when I'm not dreaming up vodka drinks. I love Big Bertha. Except she can be kind of high maintenance. The filter needs to be changed for the water dispenser and because Dad Extraordinaire is out of town, this means it won't be done for at least a month because Lord knows I'm not crazy enough to wander the aisles of the local Home Depot for the filter and then try to install it while the kids either hover around me or worse yet, flee to another room to create havoc while my back is turned. Without the filter changed Bertha chimes. She chimes five times every time you use the water dispenser. Every time. And my kids think it sounds pretty and keep pushing the water dispenser until I remember to set the lock feature.
But wait, these are not her only winning qualities, below these lovely french doors with water dispenser is a pull out freezer. "How ingenius!" I thought when we bought it last year. Now I curse the day someone invented this kind of freezer. And I'm pretty sure it was a man without kids.
This pull out freezer drawer is right at the kid level, just like the sugary cereals at the grocery store. And just like those Sugar Snaps Your Teeth Will Rot Out cereals, my kids can't help but want to pull the drawer open and peer inside. And then they walk away. And I start to hear Big Bertha chiming to let me know that the door is open. How thoughtful Big Bertha, except this always happens when I'm in the bathroom or changing a diaper or otherwise unable to run to Big Bertha and shut the door. And for some reason, my 30 pound plus kids are unable to push the drawer back in properly no matter how much they strain and push and brace their backs against it and shoving with all their might.
This lovely freezer drawer means that Jackalope, the kid who is allergic to just about everything including dairy, has access to the ice cream cake that Dad Extraordinaire purchased for the kids, um me, for Mother's Day. As I'm helping Super H pick out just the right cape for a playdate this morning, I hear the unmistakable sound of the freezer drawer opening. "Jackalope, get out of the freezer!" I holler affectionately from the bedroom as I desperately ask Super H to pick a cape, any cape, please... Now I hear rustling coming from the freezer and that's never good. "Super H, let's take them all!" I announce a bit on the manic side as I stuff the capes under my arm and run to the kitchen. Jackalope, the intrepid two year old explorer of the frozen tundra, has licked all the frosting off the ice cream cake. Awesome, now another night of him scratching himself raw while I lay next to him mumbling "Don't scratch. Rub." at 2am, 4am, 6am,...
It's not Big Bertha's fault that we have ice cream in the freezer. It's not Jackalope's fault that he wants something sweet. But for the love of mothers everywhere, is there a lock for this kind of frig?! I can't find one so we employ a series of knots and twists of rope around and through the frig and freezer handles to make it impossible to open. By adults too. And once I'm done securing the freezer like Fort Knox, someone always walks up to me "Mommy, can I have..."
Now I know to most everyone, a new refrigerator is not a big deal but after dealing with narrow shelves that required an engineering degree and a Can-Do! attitude in order to find and store food this new frig is a big deal. I affectionately call her Big Bertha. Yes, I also named my car but that's best kept to myself for now lest you discover I'm totally wacko just yet.
Big Bertha has two lovely french doors with wide shelves that hold a take out pizza box or a platter or hors d'oeuvres easily and without requiring me to frown and mutter as I try to angle these items just right without all the food slipping to the edge of the container and forming a food blob. On these doors are an ice and water dispenser which I use constantly as I am a water-holic that drinks water all day when I'm not dreaming up vodka drinks. I love Big Bertha. Except she can be kind of high maintenance. The filter needs to be changed for the water dispenser and because Dad Extraordinaire is out of town, this means it won't be done for at least a month because Lord knows I'm not crazy enough to wander the aisles of the local Home Depot for the filter and then try to install it while the kids either hover around me or worse yet, flee to another room to create havoc while my back is turned. Without the filter changed Bertha chimes. She chimes five times every time you use the water dispenser. Every time. And my kids think it sounds pretty and keep pushing the water dispenser until I remember to set the lock feature.
But wait, these are not her only winning qualities, below these lovely french doors with water dispenser is a pull out freezer. "How ingenius!" I thought when we bought it last year. Now I curse the day someone invented this kind of freezer. And I'm pretty sure it was a man without kids.
This pull out freezer drawer is right at the kid level, just like the sugary cereals at the grocery store. And just like those Sugar Snaps Your Teeth Will Rot Out cereals, my kids can't help but want to pull the drawer open and peer inside. And then they walk away. And I start to hear Big Bertha chiming to let me know that the door is open. How thoughtful Big Bertha, except this always happens when I'm in the bathroom or changing a diaper or otherwise unable to run to Big Bertha and shut the door. And for some reason, my 30 pound plus kids are unable to push the drawer back in properly no matter how much they strain and push and brace their backs against it and shoving with all their might.
This lovely freezer drawer means that Jackalope, the kid who is allergic to just about everything including dairy, has access to the ice cream cake that Dad Extraordinaire purchased for the kids, um me, for Mother's Day. As I'm helping Super H pick out just the right cape for a playdate this morning, I hear the unmistakable sound of the freezer drawer opening. "Jackalope, get out of the freezer!" I holler affectionately from the bedroom as I desperately ask Super H to pick a cape, any cape, please... Now I hear rustling coming from the freezer and that's never good. "Super H, let's take them all!" I announce a bit on the manic side as I stuff the capes under my arm and run to the kitchen. Jackalope, the intrepid two year old explorer of the frozen tundra, has licked all the frosting off the ice cream cake. Awesome, now another night of him scratching himself raw while I lay next to him mumbling "Don't scratch. Rub." at 2am, 4am, 6am,...
It's not Big Bertha's fault that we have ice cream in the freezer. It's not Jackalope's fault that he wants something sweet. But for the love of mothers everywhere, is there a lock for this kind of frig?! I can't find one so we employ a series of knots and twists of rope around and through the frig and freezer handles to make it impossible to open. By adults too. And once I'm done securing the freezer like Fort Knox, someone always walks up to me "Mommy, can I have..."
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Whose poop is it?
Day 3
Up to my elbows in cutting up melons and berries for fruit salad (go me! Feeling like "Wonder Mom" who actually got fresh produce in her kid's mouth... today at least) but wait, is it a bird? is it a plane? No, it's Super H approaching me to say
Jackolope, the sometime potty trained two year old, pooped in front of the toilet on the floor.
Ugh, really? Why does he always get into these situations when I'm doing something that requires me to not hover over him like Harold from Thomas the Tank Engine - oh my, must work on my metaphors into a more adult relevance.
Once I go into the bathroom I am pleasantly surprised that it is not poo, but dog barf. Easily cleaned up and without the smell. Yeah, you know you're a mom where you have real life "Would You Rather..." decisions and feel like you got off easy cleaning up dog puke.
Uh oh, why is Jackalope so quiet? Here we go...
Up to my elbows in cutting up melons and berries for fruit salad (go me! Feeling like "Wonder Mom" who actually got fresh produce in her kid's mouth... today at least) but wait, is it a bird? is it a plane? No, it's Super H approaching me to say
Ugh, really? Why does he always get into these situations when I'm doing something that requires me to not hover over him like Harold from Thomas the Tank Engine - oh my, must work on my metaphors into a more adult relevance.
Once I go into the bathroom I am pleasantly surprised that it is not poo, but dog barf. Easily cleaned up and without the smell. Yeah, you know you're a mom where you have real life "Would You Rather..." decisions and feel like you got off easy cleaning up dog puke.
Uh oh, why is Jackalope so quiet? Here we go...
Tardy Passes and Pancakes
Day 2:
Our first morning getting out the door to drive Kitten to school. Normally, the boys (Super H and Jackalope) stay home with Dad before he has to leave for work but today I need to pile everyone into the car for the five minute drive to school. Okay, I can do this.
Where's your backpack Kitten? What's this permission slip? Where's the pens to sign permission slip? Okay, a blue marker works - done! Go get dressed and brush your teeth.
Having dressed himself in tshirts, shorts, and snow boots (it's 80 degrees already but hey, we have got to book it out the door), Super H roots through the pantry for a granola bar while Jackalope brings me a clean diaper and yells "POOP!" at me as I pack strawberries and a cheese stick for Kitten's morning snack. Which reminds me, I really should potty train Jackalope this summer but we'll deal with that when I can let him run around the back yard and hose him off.
Diaper change complete, Jackalope toddles off to find his own shoes while I notice we have 3 minutes before we have to leave the driveway. Of course, this is the day Kitten has slept on her damp hair the night before rendering it a mass of tangles and odd right angle kinks but we can't find the detangle spray, let alone a comb. Um, let's do a bun! I am brilliant.
Deploy! Deploy! Out the door!
"But I'm hungry Mommy"
"I'll feed you as soon as we get home in 10 minutes."
"But I'm hungry noooooo-wwwww!"
"How about I make pancakes when we get home?"
"Okay." And the cheeky critter gives me a sly grin. Is it possible this 2 year old has just played me?
Into the car and 3 kids in 3 car seats... can I just say that yes, we ALWAYS wear our seat belts and car seats in this family. No exceptions. But man I'm looking forward to the day I don't have to deal with Super H's inability to conjure the minimal hand strength needed to clip his car seat snaps while Jackalope stiffens like a board yelling for some vital toy, rock, or scrap of paper that has fallen on the walk to the car and MUST be retrieved before we can snap him in. Meanwhile, the big sis Kitten, high on the recent brush of freedom by graduating to a booster seat complains that she can't get the seat belt to snap. "Okay, I can reinstall the high back booster back that uses the 5 point harness that's easier for you to do." Suddenly I can hear from the third row the satisfying click of her seat belt latching.
It takes 5 minutes to get to school from our house. We have 6 minutes, but get caught behind a driver so cautious it would make the car insurance companies Safe Driver program glow with pride. A good 5mph under the 25mph speed limit through the neighborhood with frequent brakes and sweeping turns for 1 inch deep road depressions, an errant leaf that MIGHT have been an animal, and dodging squirrels silly enough to frolic 10 feet from the side of the road. Oh. My. Goodness. Mommy will not curse. Mommy will not tail gate. Mommy will keep her sanity together for a few more minutes.
8 minutes later we pull into Kitten's school parking lot behind our safe driving friend, and she uses her "fast walking feet" to book it to class. 20 minutes later I get the automated system call telling me that my daughter (horrible mispronunciation of her name inserted here) was late. Hey, we tried.
Now, home to make gluten-free, dairy-free pancakes.
Our first morning getting out the door to drive Kitten to school. Normally, the boys (Super H and Jackalope) stay home with Dad before he has to leave for work but today I need to pile everyone into the car for the five minute drive to school. Okay, I can do this.
Where's your backpack Kitten? What's this permission slip? Where's the pens to sign permission slip? Okay, a blue marker works - done! Go get dressed and brush your teeth.
Having dressed himself in tshirts, shorts, and snow boots (it's 80 degrees already but hey, we have got to book it out the door), Super H roots through the pantry for a granola bar while Jackalope brings me a clean diaper and yells "POOP!" at me as I pack strawberries and a cheese stick for Kitten's morning snack. Which reminds me, I really should potty train Jackalope this summer but we'll deal with that when I can let him run around the back yard and hose him off.
Diaper change complete, Jackalope toddles off to find his own shoes while I notice we have 3 minutes before we have to leave the driveway. Of course, this is the day Kitten has slept on her damp hair the night before rendering it a mass of tangles and odd right angle kinks but we can't find the detangle spray, let alone a comb. Um, let's do a bun! I am brilliant.
Deploy! Deploy! Out the door!
"But I'm hungry Mommy"
"I'll feed you as soon as we get home in 10 minutes."
"But I'm hungry noooooo-wwwww!"
"How about I make pancakes when we get home?"
"Okay." And the cheeky critter gives me a sly grin. Is it possible this 2 year old has just played me?
Into the car and 3 kids in 3 car seats... can I just say that yes, we ALWAYS wear our seat belts and car seats in this family. No exceptions. But man I'm looking forward to the day I don't have to deal with Super H's inability to conjure the minimal hand strength needed to clip his car seat snaps while Jackalope stiffens like a board yelling for some vital toy, rock, or scrap of paper that has fallen on the walk to the car and MUST be retrieved before we can snap him in. Meanwhile, the big sis Kitten, high on the recent brush of freedom by graduating to a booster seat complains that she can't get the seat belt to snap. "Okay, I can reinstall the high back booster back that uses the 5 point harness that's easier for you to do." Suddenly I can hear from the third row the satisfying click of her seat belt latching.
It takes 5 minutes to get to school from our house. We have 6 minutes, but get caught behind a driver so cautious it would make the car insurance companies Safe Driver program glow with pride. A good 5mph under the 25mph speed limit through the neighborhood with frequent brakes and sweeping turns for 1 inch deep road depressions, an errant leaf that MIGHT have been an animal, and dodging squirrels silly enough to frolic 10 feet from the side of the road. Oh. My. Goodness. Mommy will not curse. Mommy will not tail gate. Mommy will keep her sanity together for a few more minutes.
8 minutes later we pull into Kitten's school parking lot behind our safe driving friend, and she uses her "fast walking feet" to book it to class. 20 minutes later I get the automated system call telling me that my daughter (horrible mispronunciation of her name inserted here) was late. Hey, we tried.
Now, home to make gluten-free, dairy-free pancakes.
It doesn't matter what it smells like, you can't eat that.
Day 1:
I have our king sized bed all to myself with the hubs gone. I can steal the covers, stretch out, and relax... that is until the kids find me at 7:00 am on the dot. It doesn't matter what time they go to sleep in the evening, their little internal clocks are set for 7:00 am. Must find a way to reset this...
Little bodies jump and wiggle on me. Ow, that's my bladder kid, scootch on over. Ahh, much better, let's all snuggle under the covers and enjoy our morning. But Jackalope the two year old smells like urine and needs a diaper change. And someone else has morning breath. And now I'm smelling cookies? Oh no, my six year old daughter, Kitten, is rooting through my bedside drawer and found my cookie scented lubricant and is now using it as lotion on her arms. Wait! Now her four year old brother, Super H, is licking her arm because he licks everything, like all the time but that's another story. Kids, it doesn't matter what it smells like, you can't eat that. Um.... Let's go have breakfast!
I have our king sized bed all to myself with the hubs gone. I can steal the covers, stretch out, and relax... that is until the kids find me at 7:00 am on the dot. It doesn't matter what time they go to sleep in the evening, their little internal clocks are set for 7:00 am. Must find a way to reset this...
Little bodies jump and wiggle on me. Ow, that's my bladder kid, scootch on over. Ahh, much better, let's all snuggle under the covers and enjoy our morning. But Jackalope the two year old smells like urine and needs a diaper change. And someone else has morning breath. And now I'm smelling cookies? Oh no, my six year old daughter, Kitten, is rooting through my bedside drawer and found my cookie scented lubricant and is now using it as lotion on her arms. Wait! Now her four year old brother, Super H, is licking her arm because he licks everything, like all the time but that's another story. Kids, it doesn't matter what it smells like, you can't eat that. Um.... Let's go have breakfast!
Day One... here we go!
The kids and I drove Daddy to the airport yesterday and am now, officially on my own for the next four to six weeks. <gulp> I love my kids and I love my life but seriously, me and 3 kids six years old and under? Well, it's going to be an adventure. Thank the Lord for wonderful friends and gym day care for a moment of peace but the day in and day out parenting will fall on my sloping with age shoulders. Here we go!!
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