It is not going well ya'll. Not well at all. Grandma Jane left last Wednesday morning (so early that we might as well say she left Tuesday night) and of COURSE the stars aligned so that Nick had duty that day as well. So, I went from having another adult at my side twenty four hours a day, along with Nick getting home around dinner time, from pretty much the time we got home from the hospital with Daisy (SEVEN WEEKS AGO!!!) to being completely and totally one hundred percent alone. With four children. Aged five and under.
Um, lemme see that receipt again. I'm pretty sure that this is NOT what I ordered.
At first, that fateful Wednesday, it seemed to be going well. And ya'll KNOW how I feel about those days that start off well and take a sharp turn for disaster. I would MUCH rather just start out crappy, that way I know what I'm in for. I'd packed the kids' lunches the night before, so when Ava got me up at five forty five, I just had to handle breakfast, getting everyone dressed, and feeding Daisy. We (I) like to be out the door by seven thirty, that way I can get the kids to school by eight, so they can play outside for thirty minutes before their "work" starts. And, since I always feel the need to be honest, I like to get them there by eight so that I can take advantage of EVERY. SINGLE. MINUTE. that they're away. Is that horrible? To paint myself in a SLIGHTLY better light, I could technically drop them off at seven. That's what we pay for, seven to two. But again, brutal honesty? Even if I wanted to take advantage of those sixty extra minutes, there's NO WAY I could get out the door by six thirty. I mean, it's just not going to happen. Ever.
So anyway, last Wednesday. I got Ava some cereal (please don't tell me that you make your kids real breakfast every day. Or ever. Because we eat cereal and frozen waffles. I occasionally make oatmeal in the rice cooker, and sometimes we have real waffles that Nick makes and I freeze the leftovers and pop them in the toaster instead. But I'd say 98% of the time, it's cereal. So I don't need to hear about how you make eggs and pancakes from scratch every day. In fact, if you're doing that, you probably shouldn't be reading my blog. I'm not THAT kind of mama.) and made myself a smoothie (yes, on top of all this, I've started back on WW. For serious. But that is a whole nother post. Yes, I said whole nother. That's a phrase, look it up. www.getoffmybackimsouthern.com) And then Daisy June woke up, so I got her bottle ready, and I was still feeling pretty good about this whole mothering thing.
Then, as I was just sitting down to feed her, Warren woke up. And, since I was sitting down, I couldn't race in there to get him, so Scott woke up too. And Scott can open the door, so they both walked out. Looking for love and food and chocolate milk (yes, we drink chocolate milk. AND it's not organic! so put that in your back pocket too!) and dry diapers. So I took the bottle away and dropped Daisy June in the swing (seriously, Melissa? you should be charging me a monthly fee for getting me that swing) and started to get their cereal and cups ready.
And Daisy June, wonder of all wonders, did NOT think that that was a great idea. Cue high pitched screeching. So I go pick her back up, but now I can't get the cereal ready.
Cue ceaseless whining.
Back into the swing with Daisy June. I can tolerate the screeching for a few minutes while I get some cereal ready.
Except I can't. I don't know, there's just something about that little baby cry, it makes my brain stop working. It always has!!! So I just sort of stand in the kitchen with a blank stare until Ava opens the silverware drawer and gets me some spoons. That sort of triggers my brain, so I manage to get the boys some cereal and get it on the table. They sit down to eat, and I get Daisy June and go back to feeding her.
Since I haven't changed Warren yet, his diaper explodes. Just pee. But still messy. By this point, I'm crying. Ava is telling me it'll be okay, Scott is laughing, and Warren is just wandering around with those pieces of gel from the inside of the diaper on his tiny hiney.
And it just sort of continued from there.
It's not like I can pinpoint what EXACTLY is going wrong, and what EXACTLY I need to do to handle this better. But (OBVIOUSLY) something ain't quite right yet. I know that I just need more time, and that the older Daisy June gets, the easier it will be (and don't you DARE tell me that it won't-I'm not interested. If I didn't think it was going to get easier as she got older, I would be driving myself to the fifth floor instead of typing this out) but it's hard right now. I expected to be overwhelmed. I'm not a moron, after all. But I didn't expect to be quite this overwhelmed, you know?
That Wednesday, I got the kids to school by eight (wow!) and went straight to the beach for my walk. And it was heavenly, and the little kids (I have BIG KIDS now and LITTLE KIDS, isn't that the funnest thing you've ever heard?!?!?! Despite all my bitching and moaning, you have to remember that I WANTED this huge family, and I'm so so so so SO grateful to have it-can you believe that?!?!) The little kids were VERY well behaved and there was a breeze and it was just perfect. And I got home, and put Warren down (I love to say that, put him down, isn't that horrible?) and snuggled with Daisy June and then put her down (yes, we are enjoying our third AMAZING sleeper) and got a shower, but that's it. That is all I did. ALL DAY. I didn't watch four hours of TV (which, to tell the truth, is about average for me, Before Four. That's my new measuring stick, BF, and AF) In fact, I didn't watch any TV at all, not even in the background, because this stupid house echos so bad that it just drives me up a wall to have it on. So, I didn't watch TV, I didn't clean a single thing, I didn't read a single page (okay, for the truth, the book I'm reading is so stupid that I didn't WANT to read, or else I would have been reading while I snuggled with Daisy) I didn't do any laundry, nothing. I barely sat down at all. And even though I KNOW, in my heart, that Nick could care less if he comes home to a messy house and never has another clean shirt to wear in his life and we live on TV dinners and take out-even though I know all that, I still WANT to do those things. I want him to think that I can handle this, that I've got it under control. Guess I'm not fooling anyone though, right?
And then (last thing, I promise) we were somewhere the other day, and this person was saying what mess the person's house was. (I'm trying not to give away the gender because I want to protect this person from Holly, who I know will want this person's head on a platter-or at least I hope so-back me up Holly! But I'm sure you can IMAGINE the gender of said person) So anyway, it was a party, so of COURSE the house was messy. And this was just the OUTSIDE. So I said "Jeeze, you should see my house, it's always a wreck."
And this person had the AUDACITY to turn to me and my husband and say "What? You've got a stay at home wife, that house should be spotless every day. What else's she gotta do all day?"
Yeah. So that's what I'll leave you with. Because my baby is crying and my big kids are upset because "she's looking at me!" and "he said my name's not Ava!" and "he said that I love rocks!"