I've often thought it was ridiculous how much could happen to Jack Bauer in just 24 hours. But let me recount my last 24.
Tuesday 8 am--Scallywag gets on his bus, which came late on the day I really needed it to be on time. I turn off Poopy Pirate's show to get him dressed to go to the doctor for Captain Tootypants' four month visit (two weeks late). Pirate has his first tantrum of the day and I hold him down to dress him and wrestle him into the car. Tootypants begins crying because he woke up at six and is wanting his first nap. The clinic is not where I thought it was and I end up fifteen minutes late.
9am--I call the clinic in L**** to ask them to fax Tootypants' shot record to my new clinic. I fill out the paperwork while Tootypants cries and Pirate pulls out every toy in the place. We see the doctor who is really nice but find out that poor Tootypants is in single digits for both height and weight. The first of my children to earn this auspicious honor prior to their second birthday. We wait for the shot nurse. . . . and wait. . . . and wait. . . . Tootypants falls asleep in my arms while Pirate runs around the tiny exam room throwing his second (or third?) tantrum of the day.
10am--I get to the car and call the moms I'm supposed to have at my house for pre-school right at that minute to tell them I'll be late. I'm home about four minutes when we start preschool. We sing songs, I try to keep the kids out of the toys (it is their first day and they just want to play), and try to interpret the language of 2 1/2 year olds that are not my own. Princess Pink (one of the pre-schoolers) poops. She won't let me change her. We get out the playdoh (this is NOT a euphamism for poop.)
11 am--I referee playdoh while I clean up the breakfast dishes. I tell Cutie Haircut (another pre-schooler) that she can't mix the colors. She says nothing and just gives me THE LOOK while digging in deeper to the white she had and the red she stole from Princess Pink. She squeezes the mass defiantly in her chubby patties and I just decide there are some things not worth fighting over. Yellow eventually makes it into the mix. I read stories to Princess (stinky) Pink and Pirate while Cutie Haircut destroys the rest of the Playdoh. Play time! I pass out fruit snacks while Pirate walks around telling everybody what to play with. He also poops so Princess Stinky doesn't feel so lonely. Scallywag gets off the bus and yelps, "What are all these babies doing in the house!" He then demands a peanut butter sandwich because kindy snack time was only a square piece of cinnamon cake, not a triangle. Mommys come.
Noon--Clean up, lunch, Diego's Animal Safari rescue and some house clean up. Change to the big-boy pants because Poopy wants peep-treats instead of lunch. Tantrum # whatever we are on ensues.
One pm--Baby wakes up and all that comes with a child who had four shots in his less than chubby legs just a few hours before.
Two--Baby goes back down. Kids go outside. The neighbors are putting up a new fence and have taken out the old one, so if the kids are disobedient then they can easily walk through two yards and jump right into the open pool I didn't even know was on the block. Thankfully, kids are obedient and fascinated watching the worker-guys. Why do they always have to smoke? Three and four wasn't super busy. Just the typical mom stuff and house cleaning and never-ending laundry. Mommy gets a few minutes of down time.
Four--Comb hair and do make up. Change clothes. Run off Mapquest directions to the tutoring center where I will go to meet my first client. Plantboy comes home and gets his "instructions" for dinner, etc. I wake up the baby and feed him.
Five--Drive through half and hour of horrific traffic to get to the center. Meet my client. My cellphone rings, but I don't pick it up or look at the number. In the seven o'clock hour I find out that it was my home teacher who tried to call before dropping by, but dropped by anyway. I spend a half and hour working through six homework problems. Negative and positive numbers.
Six--I try to help my student through his science homework because it is covering the same concepts he is STRUGGLING with in math. I hope the CAPS show some of the mightyness of his struggle. He doesn't get it. Not. At. All. I meet Dad who happens to be a principle at a local high school. I think we may have some reasonable expectation problems here. Drive home through lesser traffic though still a pain. I turn my IPod way up. I listen to Keith Urban's Stupid Boy about three times. No reason. It is just a good wailing song.
Seven-- I come in the door to a nice spaghetti dinner, or at least I think it will be. The baby takes one look at me and starts wailing. Apparently Tootypants had been angelic until he saw me, but one look at Pirate's red, blotchy eyes told me that he had been less than happy during Daddy in charge time. Another look at Plantboy's face told me the same. Hold baby while I eat cold spaghetti. Hand off baby for Plantboy to change his horrificly stinky (cloth) diaper, sort laundry, help Scallywag clean up toys, Pirate refuses to help and has to be put in the tub kicking and screaming. I am soaked by the time he comes out. Put Scallywag in the shower, nurse baby while Plantboy deals with Pirate.
Eight--Put down Pirate and Tootypants, they fall asleep almost immediately. Small favors. Read to Scallywag, put him down. Go through Tuesday folder items and write out check for school pictures, wishing that Scallywag didn't have that big black bruise on his face where he and Pirate head butted each other while jumping on my bed. Remind Scallywag not to sing the alphabet song at the top of his lungs in the bedroom he shares with two sleeping brothers.
Nine--Begin to do dishes and decide I'm just too tired and want to go to bed. Then, for some reason I begin going through all of the products in the house hunting for Box Tops For Education.
Ten--Go to bed. As soon as I lay down, Scallywag begins crying and whimpering. I go into him. He is hot and grouchy and his cold medicine hasn't really kicked in yet. I change his pajamas and put him back in bed. Fifteen minutes later he begins calling out and crying again. He tells Plantboy he is scared of monsters. They pray, talk for the hundredth time about monsters not being real and put him back to bed. He lays next to me and tells me he is afraid of Star Wars. Plantboy moves him when he drifts off.
Eleven--Sweet sleep.
Midnight--Again with the monsters and Scallywag. I move him out to the couch where it is cooler and there is more light. Sweet Sleep.
Two am--Nurse the baby. He doesn't eat well, so I know he'll be up again, but I'm so exhausted I fall immediately asleep. Go back to bed.
Five am--Baby wakes up again. Plantboy's alarm goes off at 5:30 because it is Ride Your Bike To Work Day. Baby won't go back to sleep, but lays in bed squealing at me for half and hour.
Six am--Bounce baby to keep him happy to avoid waking up big brothers. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. He is finally relaxed enough to lay down, but there is no point in trying to sleep as the big kids will be up any minute.
Seven-twenty am--I should have gone back to sleep. Surprisingly, they woke up very cheerfully and Scallywag even made his bus on time.
At eight I should have gone to sleep for at least thirty minutes while Pirate watched his last show of the morning, but I kept thinking the baby wouldn't last much longer. Again, mistake. Because here I am blogging and the baby is still sleeping. . . . only now the pirate is poopy again.
And just when I thought it had been a VERY long day, my mother calls to tell me that my sister is down and out with strep throat and a kidney stone. It can always get worse. :) Hopefully blogging my own version of 24 will keep a smile on my face through this inevitably exhausting day. And if it puts a smile on a few of your faces then it is as good as saving the world.
11 comments:
STM! This makes me exhausted for you! Truly, it does! And it makes me nervous to have three (no, this is far from an announcement).
Ho-Ly Cr-Ap! Literal and figurative. I cannot even complain one more minute about my tragic husbandless existence. Also, I may have to give this second child back. And not have any more ever. I don't even know how this is going to work out....
And that is why I will never ever do in-home preschool again. I did with a couple other moms when we lived in MA. Only a couple times a week, but it was just too much for me. And why I will never get an outside-the-home job while the kids are still little, if I can at all help it. :p You are one brave woman. Just reading about your day has me all exhausted now...
My own fault. I loved Scallywags in home preschool. Fabulous mothers. Bright kids. I just shouldn't have tried to do doctor and pre-school on the same day. And the job thing . . . well necessity sometimes drives us to insanity.
And AJ. Two was a piece of cake, and I was tutoring from home about 10 hours each week. Baby 2 was so good natured and I was even doing pre-school with my oldest while he was born. I was well-established in my ward and had lots of friends. He regulated to a schedule quickly and I could count on a four am wake up every night from about 4 weeks to six months.
Wheew! That sounds like a pretty exhausting day. I hope you get some good sleep tonight. You deserve it.
I should try writing out my day, I would probably suprise myself at all that actually happens in 24 hours. Especially the days when it seems like nothing gets "done".
Oh, the moms and kids we did preschool with were great! It still was too much, even though I only had Tyler, and Bryan was just a baby. Maybe that's why it WAS too much, the baby part. :p As for the job, I understand that it's necessary at times. That's why I said "if I can avoid it". If I ever had to work, of course I would, and I'm sure it would work out. Though it really may cost me my sanity. :p
STM, days like this really do me in. I gave a twenty minute presentation for a panel of students getting ready to wirk in the field of disability and I was supposed to talk about advocating as a parent for my child with disabilites. I was kind of a train wreck and of course, I didn't stay during the whole class as I had WAY too much to do that day. In fact, one of the students asked me about my days and I told her what that day's schedule looked like (slightly heavy, but one that happens at least once a week). her eyes just got bigger and bigger as I kept going on and on about what we were doing...and how much of it relate to Buggy. I must admit, it was kind of amusing to see most of the students acknowledge that "they just wouldn't be able to do it" when you know they could and they would if they needed to. :-)
I'm nervous to add another munchkin to the mix, but I surely wouldn't give any of them back. :-) It makes the quiet times so much easier to savor.
That being said, take it easy mama! Laundry will always be there tomorrow. I'm seeing my own need to tell many of the therapists "no", my family needs to have some time. Nothing productive can be accomplished when mom is too empty to feed others. Have a slow rest-of-the-week. :-)
They say "tomorrow's another day" I find that more depressing than uplifting- but we take what we can get (and what we couldn't do anything about anyway). Moms need their own sitcom- half the population would tune in.
STM--the next time you think about sitting down to check blogs or whatever, take a nap. Just take a nap. We'll all be here when you wake up.
Oh, STM! I wish I were there to take your cute little kiddies for a few hours! I could get my baby fix, listen to the almost 3-year old talk like an 8 year-old (so endearing!), and have a play date for the older ones. Then you could take a nice, long, blissful nap (or you could blog :) - whatever your sweet heart desires). I wish you a non-eventful, boring rest of the week :).
I'm struggling to manage one baby; the thought of having three someday is very intimidating. I know I'll be able to do it, but it's still kind of terrifying to think about.
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