Thursday, October 23, 2014

The Writing Mom's Overwhelming Day

Last post, I shared with you how October was a time where my husband was gone a lot, and I was alone with the kids. This has required me to take up my husband's chores (like I wasn't already--LOL). It's been a lot. All the stress and lack of sleep led me to yesterday.

My day started somewhere in the ungodly hour of 5 a.m. I am currently only working at Kids Krossing Drop-In Daycare once a week between the hours of 6 a.m. and noon. I seem to always run out of time and leave the house without any makeup or breakfast. Yesterday, I was the exception. I was doing great. I had time to pack my breakfast, put my makeup on, and head out the door. BUT...

The first glimpse of my bad day was using the last of my eyeliner. My guy readers, everyone woman has one article of makeup she can't live without--mine is eyeliner. I had enough for that day but knew a trip to the store was necessary.

My second clue it was going to be a typical "Alexander" day (Alexander and the Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day) was I had forgotten to set out the kids' clothes. Here's my dilemma--I can't go in their room and get clothes (HELLO! Do not wake your kids up at 5:30 a.m.). So I went to the basement, where I'm ALWAYS doing laundry. One glance at the laundry room, and I remember I haven't had time to properly fold and put away clean laundry. Two massive mounds of laundry draped my washer and dryer. I'm still good on time, I told myself. So I immediately started separating the mounds of draped laundry into lil Rudy, twins, and parents. I can't stop until it's finished. When it is finished, I realize in the two loads of laundry, there are no matches--shirts and underwear for lil Rudy; pants and socks for the girls. No complete outfits. Frustrated, I threw in the towel and returned upstairs, assuming (incorrectly) my husband could dress the kids.

I hop in the car and realize it's 5:48 a.m., and my workplace is a good 15 minutes away. I almost burst into tears. Wednesdays, I have to get up early and work, so it's my Starbucks treat. The whole fiasco in the basement had just cost me my chance for coffee, and I was TIRED. But I suck it up and wander through the work day like a zombie. At least I have kids to entertain me. I even had time to critique four chapters of my CP's awesome novel. For being a pretty messed up start, the day had turned out pretty good I thought.

When I went to pick up my kids, I knew right off the bat it wasn't a good day for my mom. As I pulled up the long drive to their house (this is the farm from the earlier post), my son, daughter, and niece come running for the car. I realize they aren't used to staying out of the way of moving vehicles, so I creep up the drive and stop in front of their garage. Next, I notice my grandma's car and my sister's car (she and her 3-month-old baby are visiting from NC) are missing, which means my mom has been alone with 5 kids (aged 4, 2, 2, 2, 6 months). Finally, I notice she has set out the three carseats (my husband didn't have time to switch cars with me, so I had to cram three carseats in the back of my Jeep Cherokee) and diaper bag sitting on the sidewalk. She's ready for me to go. I waste no time and load the carseats, diaper bag, and my children, except...Can you guess? Addy was nowhere to be found. We searched the back yard, the barn, and the house. Finally found her...up to no good, of course. I finally am ready to leave, and my mom says, "I think we're all going to take a nap now." Awww, poor Mom! You deserve it!

Next, I think it's a brilliant idea to go to Buckner Park (formerly called "The Water Park," because it has a splash pad). My three adorable children insist on being on three separate sections of the playground equipment, making me that irresponsible, neglectful mom. Let's face it--I can't be in three places at once. With racing heart and tightening chest, I scan the playground equipment every two minutes for three blonde heads, which is no easy feat, since they have welcomed a new friend--also blonde--to play with them. I had one blissful moment, where all three of them were on the swings, and it lasted only 20 seconds. After 20...30...45 minutes (I have no idea), I carry two screaming 2-year-olds, bark at my almost 5-year-old, and stuff them in the cramped backseat. I plop inside the passenger seat and thank God I hadn't lost any of them, they were all unharmed, and most likely worn out.

hahahahahahaha. My next great idea...let's get diapers from Target. I'll sum it up for you. DISASTER.  Here's us on our way into Target--totally my son's idea.
My husband had the stroller. First, we get diapers--the wrong size...and I don't notice until we're on our way out, and they slide off the cart in the middle of the parking lot. Second, I dream of my choice of bedding and furniture, and I decide to get a candle warmer to replace the one I have at home that doesn't work. Terrified to put it in the cart with this (see above), I ask my son to carry it and keep it safe. Fifteen seconds later and four aisles later, he drops it, and it shatters---shatters into pieces. Tears spring to my eyes, and I choke out, "Oh, Rudy!" He apologizes, begs me to go get another one, but I can't. I head straight to the makeup aisle, and I'm really scared. So many expensive things for the twins to take off the shelves, because let's face it, they won't sit down for more than 30 seconds at a time. I rush through and being a novice with makeup, I can't find the eyeliner and give up. I check out and desperately want to grab Starbucks on my way out--to make up for this morning--but realize I had no way to carry it. No guarantee it wouldn't spill all over me and the cart. And to conclude my Target fiasco, as I crossed into the parking lot, with cars stopped on both sides of me (because they're so nice), one of the boxes--size 3 and not size 5 or even 4--slides off the cart and in the middle of the street.

When we're all loaded and on our way home once more, I realize it's almost 6 p.m., and I have to make dinner. "No!" I said. "Rudy, would you like pizza for dinner?" His face lit up, and he exclaimed, "YES!"

But what made my day--made all this worth it--was when I returned to the Jeep, pizza box in hand, fresh from the oven, my quiet Addy exclaims, "Zah!" (which is pizza without the p-i). My child who never talks clearly, who lets her sister vocalize everything, takes one look at my choice of dinner and says pizza clearly.

They're growing up so fast, and part of me is so relieved. But the other part of me is thankful that even on bad days, there is joy.

(P.S. After bedtime, I heard dripping in the laundry room, so I checked the tray I had put under the drip. It was full. The lightest brush of my fingers offset the delicate balance and doused me in its disgusting water. At 9:30 p.m., my husband arrived home with Starbucks in hand to save the day).

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