A Rare Day At Home With My Favorite Little People

My daycare provider needed to take a personal day the other day, so I got a rare chance to stay home with my kids during the week. Instead of trying to get everything done like I normally do on the weekends, I tried to focus on having a good time with them. I have some minor surgery scheduled soon that will keep me a little out of the game for at least a week, so I also had that incentive to log some quality time with them while I could.

As you might expect, managing the needs of a 3-year-old and a 1-year-old all day is a challenge. Here's a rundown:

My original plan: Do our usual morning breakfast routine and instead of piling in the car to go to the babysitter's at 8, put Gir in the stroller and walk to the park.

What actually happened: Around 9, Zim still wasn't done with breakfast and freaked out when I told him it was time to get his shoes on and go to the park, despite the fact that, up until that point, he was begging me to take him to the park. When I finally did get him outside, he still didn't want to go to the park, he wanted to ride his new tricycle that he doesn't really understand how to peddle and steer simultaneously. He unsuccessfully tried to convince me that he'd be able to ride it to the park. On the way there, he tried to go a different (much longer) way. He couldn't understand why we had to go to the park. Couldn't we just go on a walk? Who wants slides anyway?

My original plan: At the park, I assumed Zim would amuse himself on the slides most of the time and maybe join me and his sister on the swings for a little bit, but then get scared and go back to the slides. No matter what, an epic meltdown would happen when I told him it was time to go.

What actually happened: Zim spent most of his time in the sand. Gir wanted me to help her walk all over the park. The epic meltdown was stopped in it's tracks by the big water bottle I brought for he and I to drink out of. Every 5 feet only the path out of the park he asked me for more water.

My original plan: After returning from the park, Gir would be ready for her nap. Zim and I could cuddle on the couch and watch a movie, probably Thomas-related. After that, a snack.

What actually happened: Both children demanded snacks immediately (I probably should have seen this coming). Gir could not understand why she should be sleeping, but was out quickly. Zim wanted to cuddle, but wanted to use my tablet, not the "big TV", so I fell asleep for an unprecedented 2 hours.

My original plan: Lunch at noon. Nap at 1.

What actually happened: Lunch at 1:30. Naps at 2:30. During naptime I wanted to make them Rice Krispy treats to make up for burning their grilled cheese sandwiches at lunch, but Zim kept  leaving his room. I told him I was trying to make a surprise for him and so he had to stay in his room or it would ruin the surprise. 3-year-olds really don't understand how surprises work.

My original plan: After naps and afternoon snacks, let Zim play with his tricycle on the driveway.

What actually happened: The tricycle had been forgotten and all he wanted was his water table set up in the front yard. I needed to water flowers anyway and discovered that as I filled the water table, Zim scooped up water with a cup and poured it on my flowers for me.

Young Dumb Toddlers

Ugh, mommy guilt has been striking hard lately.

Our new daycare person is a little tightly wound and sometimes a little too rules focused, so her suggestions and instructions to me often come off unintentionally judgmental. I know she doesn't really mean it that way. When we actually have time to talk, we're fine, but in the rush that generally accompanies drop off and pick off, things come off a little sharp.

Then this weekend in two hours Gir managed to hurt herself twice because I was distracted by Zim's epic 3-year-old meltdowns. The first time she fell half way down the steps before I caught her. The second time, she slipped in the bathtub and got a bloody nose.

... Or maybe this is just proof that even though she's not really walking much yet, Gir is definitely a dumb young toddler, drunk on the power of being newly upright. She may be super cautious about walking, but she's not cautious about where she chooses to stand and wiggle.

It reminds me of the month when Zim had a perpetual bruise in the middle of his forehead because he kept running into things because he was so excited he could run, but didn't know enough to look at what he was running toward.

Maybe it's good she isn't walking yet. Now I just have to watch her on unstable surfaces. All to soon she'll be moving and making poor choices.

Self-Care

Having kids has given me a level of panic I've never experienced before, and sometimes I struggle to keep it in check.

That's why I haven't posted in awhile. I'm dealing with a lot of anxiety, that I think stems from a lot of discontentment. And shame, because, how could I be discontent?

I have the perfect job. I love what I do and I love the people I do it with. They could not be smarter or nicer, or more understanding of the demands on a working mom's time.

My children are ridiculously adorable and relatively healthy. Zim says or does something hilarious several times a day. Gir is excitedly figuring out how to keep up with her big brother. Even when she gets so frustrated at crawling backwards instead of forwards, it's so freaking cute.

My husband and I are in a good place despite the demands of both working full-time and raising two small children.

Yet, I feel crazy stressed. I feel like there's a never-ending list of things to worry about and that just as I get a handle on things another worry pops up that tumbles the whole house of cards. I'm so busy balancing everyone else's needs that I never get around to worrying about my own.

This morning I was supposed to get an allergy shot. It's a regular weekly appointment for me, but so often, it gets skipped because I get distracted cleaning the house, making sure children's clothes are put away, Gir's bottles are washed, socks of various sizes are picked up. When I looked up from picking things up and realized I wasn't ready to go yet and there wasn't time to fit my shot appointment in, I was so frustrated.

But then I got over it, and decided to do something else to take care of myself instead.

I actually sat down at the table to eat my breakfast, instead of hurriedly inhaling it while driving somewhere. I made more breakfasts for myself so I'd have some ready for the rest of the week. I took the time to make sure my clothes matched, put on the minimal makeup that I strive to put on every morning, but often miss. I picked out a necklace to wear. I made my bed. I picked up the parts of the house that make me feel calm, not the ones that would keep other members of my family happy. And then, when it was time to leave the house for work, I left. I didn't find just one more thing to tidy up, I walked out the door, and for once, didn't feel rushed and panicked that I'd forgotten something.

All small seemingly insignificant things, but for once I left the house feeling put together and mostly calm. Sure, there's still a million things unfinished in my life right now (the clothes I abandoned in the washer, the car repairs that need to take place over the next few weeks that will be paid for with funds from an, as yet, undetermined source), but I made the conscious choice to take care of myself a little. To put something back in the tank, instead of constantly drawing on it until it's so empty that I have nothing left to give the people in my life I care so much about and would give anything for.

Taking a break

Lately a combination of factors has led me to be uninterested in or unable to handle most social media. I'm not saying goodbye forever or completely. I may lurk around the edges a little, but don't count on me to be around.

Maybe after a few weeks reflection I'll even be able to write more about the reasons for this decision, but for now I'll be a little harder than usual to find online. Email and texting will still work,  though.

Without a toddler in the house ...

... You do not wake up to the incessant call of "Mom ... Mom ... Mom!"

... You don't trip over blocks and cars and all manner of noisy toy on your way to the kitchen to blearily slice somebody's banana before you've even had the chance to make coffee.

... You can stare at your 2-month old for 5 whole minutes without being interrupted.

... You discover that said 2-month-old loves to smile and makes the most adorable gurgling and cooing sounds when you talk to her.

... You additionally find that said 2-month-old has just discovered her toes but only knows them as the wonderful wiggly things that fit in her mouth and not yet as appendages attached to her body.

... You can leave water glasses randomly strewn about the house without fear of someone deciding they look like a good toy and then spilling their contents on your phone.

... You can wash dishes without a little "helper".

... There's no Elmo.

... There's no potty training drama.

... There's no wrestling a little monster into pajamas and then convincing him it's time to sleep despite all the tears and whining to the contrary.

But there's also ...

... no one to help you load the washing machine and dryer (seriously, he loves to help with laundry)

... no games of "This Little Piggy"

... no surprise knee-level attack hugs that nearly knock you over

... no giggle-filled bedtime stories

... no slobbery little kisses that must last exactly as long as the toddler wants and be given to every person in the house before it's time for bed.

This list brought to you by my #toddlerfreeweek (thanks to my parents). As you can see, I'm mostly enjoying it, but by next weekend I'll be glad to have my little monster back.

A Day in the Life of a Working Mom

Last Friday was quite a day for me. It had really been a long week and by Friday I was just shot. Unfortunately Friday is usually one of my busiest work days and this one was exactly that. Let's see if I can remember how to recap it.

Midnight: Infant awakens demanding food. (This is normal.)

2AM: Infant awakens demanding food. (Wait, didn't we already do this?)

4AM: Infant awakens demanding food. (You better be going through a growing spurt, otherwise this is just mean.)

5:30AM: Alarm goes off reminding me that I'm supposed to leave for work early this morning, so I need to hop in the shower before the husband and the toddler wake up. Hit the snooze button instead.

5:55AM: Toddler awakens. (Apparently I turned the alarm off instead of hitting snooze.) Force toddler onto the potty and decide to do a wet wipe sponge bath (one of the advantages of having small children) instead of a shower, since husband is now waking, too.

6:00-6:54AM: General chaos as everyone awakens and demands their various clothing, breakfast, and entertainment needs be met immediately. Eventually there is coffee.

6:55AM: Five minutes before I plan to walk out of the door the infant again demands food. Realize that if I feed her now I won't have to pump the minute my 8AM meeting is over, so decide to risk running late.

7:20AM: Finally in the car and on the way to work 20 minutes later than planned (toddler demanded my help - not his father's - putting on his shoes, even though his father was the one taking him to daycare.)

8:05AM: Arrive at work only 5 minutes late (I love Friday morning lack of traffic) and get into the monthly department meeting at which I'm supposed to talk with enough time to compose myself before it's my turn. But when it's my turn my brain is so mushy that the new products I'm demoing get explained with phrases like "Check it out yourself, it's pretty self-explanatory" rather than actually, you know, explaining how they work.

11AM: Am too busy making fun of the raving conspiracy rant that someone abandoned in our printer that I forget my first pump break of the day.

12:20PM: Finally realized that I forgot that pump break and frantically race to my other "office" followed by a rushed trip to the closest fast food joint to pick up lunch on the remaining few minutes of my lunch break.

4:45PM: Second pump break of the day.

5-6PM: Am so busy actually working that I forget to spend time on Pinterest meal planning for next week (I try to do a lot of my grocery shopping after work on Fridays).

6:15PM: stop at the Costco closer to work and slightly out of my way rather than the one closer to home because I'm running on fumes and need to fill up with cheap Costco gas as well as reasonably priced bulk items.

6:55PM: getting back into my car after the Costco trip and husband calls asking me to pick up C batteries for the infant's swing (does anything besides infant swings use C batteries?), so rather than head back into Costco, hit up the next mass merchandiser on my way home and grab myself a pop, because I need caffeine desperately, but know that if I have coffee this late I won't be able to fall asleep until the infant wakes up for her midnight feeding.

7:45PM: Arrive home to pandemonium. Toddler has been fed, but is cranky and ready to get ready for bed. Infant is hungry and tired. Husband is playing video games. Luckily, I get the infant. Husband wrestles toddler onto the potty and then into pajamas and bed.

8:30PM-midnight: For some dumb reason, both husband and I stay up insanely late doing nothing that I can actually remember now a few days later. I think I was on my computer. Facebook? Probably.

S@!t Toddlers Say

So, I heard my son swear for the first time. I should have known it was coming. He's started repeating everything I say directly to him, so it was only a matter of time before he repeated the word I muttered under my breath when I dropped something while breastfeeding his sister (making me unable to retrieve the item until she was done).

As much as I'd prefer my two-year-old didn't swear, I swear an awful lot in his presence. Okay, I swear an awful lot, period, but I come by it honestly. My dad's ability to swear creatively led my brothers and I to tell our confused friends that he was fluent in French. This more than anything recently has made me feel guilty about not setting a better example for my kids.

Speaking of my father, another thing my son has been saying lately that my father would believe is worse than swearing is mispronouncing "grandma" and "grandpa", both as something sounding roughly like "bama". Since my son says "uh" in front of everything it comes out sounding like "Obama". My father is of the political camp fiercely against our current President and my son is set to spend a week with him later this month. This should be interesting ...