I wake up at 6 am, as usual. My son wakes me up asking for dinner rolls for breakfast. okay, whatevs. I go on a 5 min hunt for my phone in the vast recesses of my comforter, and eventually find it plugged in on the bedside table. Curse you, sneaky phone. I roll out of bed and step on a child that has made a pillow pet/blankie/stuffed animal nest beside it. She didn't wake up. Thank God. I make my way to the bathroom, and bathroom light blinds the bejeebus out of me. I step on the scale, then step off hoping that I will weigh like 10 lbs less AFTER I pee. I step on the scale again after, curse the scale, and contemplate throwing it out a window. Diet FAIL. I half-blindly make my way downstairs to the coffee pot to get some coffee, and turn on some cartoons for DS while he eats his dinner rolls for breakfast. I catch a few minutes of sweet peace in front of the computer, and let facebook and pinterest kill a few more of my braincells.
Then the baby (I say baby, but shes 2 now.) wakes up. She screams at me for putting the gate in front of the door. I am the meanest mommy EVER. I get her up, change her pull up (bc were potty training now, YAY! *eye roll*) and put her in underwear. She gets a rice cake and a sippy for breakfast and shes happy for the moment. Shes even happy when she pees in her chair. fantastic. I clean up the baby and my dear, sweet, not-all-morning-person middle daughter comes down the stairs. Shes mad bc I stepped on her. Apparently I did it on purpose and "I'm sorry" just doesn't fix that kind of treachery. I get her to eat some cereal and join the others in some nick Jr. while I get some cleaning done. I manage the laundry room, and bathroom then I realize its time to go to playgroup.
I mentally prepare myself. THIS, my friends, should be an Olympic event. Getting toddlers out the door... Summer Sport. I tell my son first... he needs the most time to get ready. I look through the dressers to find suitable outfits for my daughters, and BEG my son to find some clothes and get himself dressed. I wrestle the baby into some clothes, debate on underwear or pull up. I decide to be lazy and choose pull-up (shame on me!). I check over my daughters clothing choices, check on sons progress (hes still running around his room in underwear) and go on a shoe hunt. The baby has taken every single one of the shoes down from the rack and thrown them about the closet. AGAIN. Oh shoe closet, you WILL be the death of me! I swear I find one of every single pair of shoes that they own. I scream "WHERE ARE THE OTHER SHOES?! I SWEAR THERE WERE TWO WHEN I BOUGHT THEM!" Then I debate climbing on top of all the shoes, shutting the door, and having myself a good cry. I don't. I finally track down some shoes for all of them. I have to chase the baby down and put her in a knee bar ( Knee Bar- Instructional) to get her tennis shoes on and tied. my daughter chooses sandals, which I KNOW will rub her feet. I try to tell her this, but she cries and throws a shoe at me so I decide to let her learn the hard way. My son is still upstairs running around naked. I pick out his clothes, put them on his bed, and shut the door. I tell him he can come out once he is dressed and ready to start the day. 5 minutes later he is still sitting on the floor playing in his undies. I concede defeat and dress him bc I really want to go to the playgroup and have adult conversation, and I really want them to burn energy and then take a long nap so I can clean and watch that episode of VEEP that I missed. We finally get out the door. Its been an hour. Then I realize I forgot to pack the diaper bag. I die a little inside.
After hastily packing the diaper bag we are on our way! yay! for a minute. until they have to stop and examine a rock. and a bug. and a leaf. and someones paper. and try to steal a toy from someones yard. and try to cross the street without me. and fall and cry. and pet a dog through a fence. and pick up something that could have been edible at some point and put it in their mouth. and switch places in the double stroller 8947589274 times. and fall and cry again. we finally reach the end of the block! only 1/4 mile to go!
.....30-45 minutes later.....
Its in sight! I see it! the park is right there! I encourage them to run on ahead of me and play. They make it all the way across a soccer field and to the park in about 2 minutes. we live about 5 soccer fields away. it took us 45 minutes to walk that far. The baby cries bc she wants to run too. I try to console her in the 10 minutes it takes us to get there. She doesn't stop crying until I let her out of the stroller. I feel instant relief as they run off to play happily and I sit and talk with the other moms. There are a few there with little babies and I get a twinge of baby fever. Then I look over at my son throwing his flip flops from the top of the slide and I snap out of it. After about a half hour its time to go, and I go over my exit strategies in my head. threats? bribery? the promise of Popsicles at home? I weigh my options and decide that I will ask what they want for lunch and then casually suggest that we go make it. This works for a little while, they say their goodbyes and wave to their friends. It wasn't until we were walking down the sidewalk away from the park the my son realizes whats going on. He refuses to walk any farther. I try to tell him that his friends are leaving soon too and that its time for everyone to go home and eat. He cries, and stomps, and runs into the grass and has a complete meltdown. I hope the other moms aren't watching. I leave my stroller with the other two strapped in it, and drag him out of the grass and towards the stroller. I have to hold (by hold, I mean death grip bc hes trying to get away from me) his hand, and push the double stroller with the other. well, there's my workout for the day! I walk past a cop waiting for speeders, and hope he doesn't think I'm a kidnapper, by the way my son is acting towards me I would think the same thing. I drag him past the officer with a "kids, gotta love em' " smile on my face and reach the walking path behind our house. They are tired and hungry by then so its easy to convince them to go home willingly.
They all want something different for lunch and none of them like what I give them. Luckily daddy is home to save the day! for a minute. I have to take him back to work because I need the car for errands. The kids didn't eat any of their lunch bc thy are so tired and cranky. DH and I manage to get them out the door and into their car seats (how is it that hes so fast at it, but it takes me an hour?!) and were on the way.
First errand is taking the dog to the groomers. I have to drive back home and get the dog. Our dog, Atlas, is 80 lbs of white fluff and slobber. Hes a Pyrenees/Anatolian shepherd. I leave the kids in their seats while I go to the gate and get the dog. I don't think I could handle the kids and the dog all running loose around the neighborhood. Atlas is a giant baby and wont get in the car, so I have to pick him up and fight him to get into the car. Apparently he doesn't realize what I deal with all day, dealing with him is a piece of cake. At least he thinks I'm his boss. Once hes in the car ( and no, I don't use a doggy seat belt or a whatever. I cant deal with yet another thing to buckle down. and his crate is the size of a shed. shame on me. I know.) we get rolling and hes in the back seat panting like a wounded wildebeest so I crank the AC. Then the kids cry that its too cold. Then he starts panting again. So I'm stuck alternating high and low AC all the way to the groomers. She comes outside to get him so I don't have to get all my kids out. Bless her! I almost cry tears of joy. Shes super duper sweet and I know my big fur baby will be in good hands. The groomer says 1-2 hours so we go to Wal-Mart while hes getting his bath. Great idea.
I drive around the parking lot several times to look for a spot by the cart corral. I MUST park beside the cart corral bc I'm a nervous wreck walking with all three through the parking lot. And I refuse to walk more than one stall to return a cart. Its wal mart- baby snatchers and crazy drivers are everywhere. Luckily we find one with a cart inside it and I put them in. The older two ride in the basket part bc in my head, the dangers of them being hit by car far outweigh those of them falling out of the basket. Once we get inside, they get to walk. The baby wants to walk too, and throws a tantrum when I buckle her in. The other two notice a toy display and make a bee-line. I coax them away after a few minutes. We wander around the store for an hour getting the things we need. I leave a few things for very last because its near (cue twilight zone music) the toy aisles. I tell my older kids "we are getting swim stuff for the beach!" about 4564573455 times to get the excited and focused. But as soon as those Barbie and Transformer toys come into view, its all over from there. swim stuff? what swim stuff? Ive never heard of these things you speak of. They run up and down the aisles with me chasing after them with the baby in the cart. They bring me different, outrageously expensive toys and beg to buy pretty much anything they see. Unfortunately the swim stuff in the last two aisles, so its almost impossible to get to them without a couple toys in the basket first. Well played wal mart, well played. I find the swimming accessories that I am looking for, then the meltdowns start. My son doesn't want them, they are for babies. I try to explain that they are NOT for babies (even though there is a baby on the front. oy.) they are for kids who cant swim. He cant swim. he tells me with a defiant face that he had a dream last night that he could swim, so he CAN swim now and doesn't need those stupid baby floaties. I laugh in spite of myself. Some of the things these kids come up with is seriously funny. They must get it from me. I explain that we will buy them, just in case we get to the pool someone needs them. He says okay and were off to the checkout lanes! finally! the end is near! we spent about an hour in just the toy section. twilight zone, I'm telling ya. Until he sees a display of Nerf water guns. I cringe as soon as I see them. There's about to be a battle royale, and I know it. He has been begging for one. I keep telling him NO for two reasons. His little sisters. He totally comes unglued and begs anyway. Then its time for the wal mart fit. You know the one I'm talking about. The kind where you see/hear the kid, writhing and screaming on the floor and shrieking at his/her parents and you're like "gaw, get a hold of your child. sheesh" well, that's the one. By this point Ive had a long day, so I stand there by the bikes and the girls and I share a granola bar until hes finished. He decides hes hungry and we go through the check out lane with gummy bears and Gatorade. I realize its time to go pick up DH from work. I get them all in their seats and walk my two-foot limit to return the cart.
Its not until were halfway to base that I remember the dog. Ah well, she hasn't called yet anyway. I will have time. They're all asleep by the time we get to the parking lot to pick up my hubby. Hes all smiles as usual as I'm SO glad I have him around to even out my high-strung craziness. i tell him all about my day, and he tells me about his, and for a few minutes we have some peace and quiet to just be us. Then we get home and the kids wake up. Its okay though, bc the kids miss him so much during the day that they listen to every word he says. Makes me want to take a me-cation. for a week or so. Maybe then they will listen to me too! then the groomer calls. the dog is ready. I take time during the drive to reflect on my day, and feel so blessed to have three beautiful children to stress me out all day. YES I am stressed, YES there are some times when I am about to lose it, YES there are some times when I feel like I cant handle it. But they never see that part. I could have the worst day of my life, and they would never know. I always try to give off the impression that they're a breeze to care for. I will give them the best childhood I can, let them be kids as long as I can, and never ever let them think that I am anything less that completely happy with every single thing they do. Because they deserve it. And bc there will be a day when I will wake up whenever I want, have cake for breakfast, drink my coffee and sit at the computer uninterrupted, and spend the day doing crafts and relaxing instead of cleaning because there wont be kids living there to mess it up. And I will hate that day.
