4:45am brings my eyes wide open. Here I am again, unable to sleep. As I strip myself out of my toddler's warm, sweaty brace I blow a kiss to my snoring husband and climb over the three baskets of clean laundry that has yet to be put away. I quietly, and ever so gently motion for my dog, leela to get out of the room, if I don't her wet nose will soon be jabbed in my husband's face making for a very grumpy day. As I wait for the lifeline that is coffee to brew I realize I still have last nights "blues clues" song stuck in my head, and I've been unconsciously humming it for how long? I'm not sure. I think, "god I'm pathetic" only I say it out loud and the dog cocks her head to the side.
I love the morning, I love how quiet my house is. I love turning on the heat, and waiting for the horrid bang, cough, sputter it makes as it comes to life. It's become a comfort to me. I gingerly take my first few sips, and contimplate my day. Sierra needs her wigwam project done soon, I need to pick up the rest of the supplies for both her, and Chloe's halloween party, and I have a hell of a lot of baking to do. The dogs need to go out, I rush to the door before they start barking and mauling me, because my efforts to keep quiet always fail. This is my time, my precious time, and if one of my 4 sleeping loves I may have to sedate them to get back to my wonderful alone time. Pinterest calls my name, and soon I'm lost in imaginary crafts I made with my own two hands displaying them around my luxurious house for all to see much like I did when I colored inside the lines and showed my mom.
A hour, a half full cup of cold coffee, and a sleepy self realizes it's been a hour and the little loves of my life are all waking. Me time is over. I throw breakfast at them, give the half dead husband a kiss goodbye, he's mastered waking up a whole ten minutes before shuffling off to work, and my day is in full swing. I chase Chloe (the five year old) with a bowl of Cheerios begging and pleading for her to eat, while the Allie (the two year old) attacks my leg like a rabid dog screaming with fat crocodile years streaming down her face, wanting to "hold me". I swing her onto my hip, throw clothes at the kids and get them ready for the bus that Chloe has exclaimed for the millionth time she wants to ride this morning. What a treat! I don't have to get dressed! Sierra (the nine year old), God love her has become self sufficient and only needs me to find her left shoe, a brush, and her homework all while throwing her legendary morning tantrum because she's "exahuuassteeed". I get the shoe, run a brush through her hair, notice Chloe isn't wearing underwear, get it on her, put allie's breakfast on her tray, and find the homework. They're out the door and the craziness has subsided. Until about thirty seconds later where the shrill sound of Chloe screaming comes raining through my house like a freight train. She "doesn't want to take the bus!!!" As she runs up the walk way the bus passes.
Without putting more suitable clothing on, (I should mention we live in a pretty upscale town) did I mention Allie now has syrup in her hair? And stained hand-me-down Mickey Jammie's on? This should be fun. I throw them all in the car muttering curses under my breath for being such a pushover, while Chloe now cries she doesn't want to go to school. Explaining the importance of kindergarten to a five year old is like trying to reason with a goldfish. It just doesn't happen. I pull up to the school, calmly I try to convince her of the greatness she's about to embark on while trying not to cry and scream myself. There are now seven cars behind me patiently waiting to drop their littles off in the very spot I'm blocking. As parents usher their kids in they start to watch as this little five year old throws the mother of all tantrums and I start to simultaneously rip my bed head out while banging it against the steering wheel. Finally I convince her that if she goes I'll take care of all her children when she grows up so she can sit quietly at home not having to deal with this. Did I mention I was out of the car by now? And the seven cars turned into nine with a mini bus waiting... Not my proudest moment.
I quickly run home and wash what I can of myself with a baby wipe, do the same to Allie. I quickly decide I don't have time to wash syrup hair, and opt for a pony tail. Her hair is insanely curly so it had the look of "something about Mary" and "frankensteins bride", thanks to all of this I am now late (as always) for the orthadontist, because to add insult to injury I am a 31 year old who needed braces for a incredible jaw problem that makes me feel like my head is imploding. Good times. Luckily the nurses there know what a lunatic I am. I'll spare you the details of that visit but it involved a "super chain" and a pair of pliers that hurt worse than giving birth.
It's lunchtime when we return from our morning errands, and today I decide we will eat healthy...until I open the fridge and see I need to go grocery shopping. PB&J it is! My poor husband comes home for lunch to a very grumpy wife who is in desperate need of a nap, and a hard drink. I make a note that I need to start drinking as Allie not only feeds the dogs the entire contents of her lunch but finds it funny to shower them with her milk. I try to carry on a conversation with him about his work for the day while juggling anythig I can grab for a ten minute pick-up time before Allie is released from her high chair to just destroy it again. As he leaves I think to myself that I should take Allie for a walk, the fresh air will do us good. No sooner do I get her on the road does she start yelling at a fellow walker to watch out for a car that was a half mile away, yelling "you're gonna go to the hospital!", just doesn't sound right coming from a two year old.
After we find every pretty leaf we can I load her into the car to surprise Chloe, and pick her up early from school so we can enjoy the afternoon playing at the park. Sierra will be going to a play date before her choir practice, and poor Chloe is the middle child, that statement always fills me with guilt but what they say about the middle child is true, they get the short end of the stick. Plus, Chloe is short. Her teacher drops her off to me with new requests for the halloween party and pleads with me to come early to help for a parade that day. 18 kindergarteners being rangles while wearing costumes sounds like a good time to me! We head off with Chloe happily chirping away about her surprise park day. I give her and Allie a million under doggies, and tornado spins on the swings till my arms hurt, and we blissfully go home to a house that smells like baby poop. The dog has a certain craving for such things and feels the need to shred any diaper within sniffing radius. I clean again.
Allie needs a nap, but we have to pick Sierra and her friend up from choir practice, they rambunctiously get into the van and her friend says "your van is so messy!" , thanks kid. I drop her off and head home to start dinner only to realize for the second time, I need to go grocery shopping..leftovers! The husband returns from a hard days work to children fighting, mad chaos ensuing, and again a very grumpy wife who needs a drink...haven't started it yet, damn. I beg for a few minutes to run to the store for a few things, and praise him when he concedes that I "need a break", it was a lovely experience. Twenty minutes of no interruptions. They all eat while screaming at each other over who gets what cup we read a few halloween books, Allie needs to re-read "where's BOO hiding", and the knock knock part over a few thousand times.
Jammie's are handed out, faces are washed, teeth are brushed and bed time snuggles are given. Just as I sit down, ready to watch our favorite show with the love of my life (whom noticeably has been ignored throughout this story) Chloe comes out to announce she will not be going to school in a fit of tears. I console, I give love, Stephen puts her back to bed after singing her song "you are my sunshine" and we nestle in to "our time". Only it's not our time because Allie still sleeps with us and will not be retiring till we do. While we watch our show we alternate playing peek-a-boo, tinkle bug, coloring on out faces (not by choice believe me) and the famous "get me this, get me that game" till we are too tired to keep our eyes open, but early enough to feel old and lame. I digress, and settle in to sleep next to the stranger that is the love of my life, with promises of all the alone time we will ever want when the girls are older. He kisses me, rubs my back, and with a sigh slowly starts snoring beside me.
This is my life. It may seem mundane, and boring, but it is my crazy, comical life. Some days are great, and others not so much. I wouldn't change a thing, we are all a team, and the love that fills our house is contagious. I'm proud of my family, and of each individual piece that makes us a unit. Thank you for taking the time to read the novel of a blog post, sorry about the typos I'm too tired to re-read this.
No comments:
Post a Comment