Confessions of a Real-Life Mom: Entry #3

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Confessions of a Real-Life Mom: Entry #3

September 12, 2016

Have you ever snuck into the bathroom, locked the door, and held your breath, hoping no one would notice? No? Me neither. Ahem. And by no one, I mean your children. Because they seem to be all-knowing. Mommy wants to go pee? They drop everything and race to your aide, helping you with toilet paper and desperately trying to catch a glimpse of what’s in the toilet. Mommy wants to have a shower? Peekaboo! There they are hiding behind the shower curtain. Sometimes Mommy wants a little alone time. And sometimes Mommy is on the verge of a nervous breakdown, so she sneaks into the bathroom and closes the door. That may or may not have happened tonight.

It seems, of course, that the kids save their extra-special bedtime shenanigans for nights when all you want to do is have a break. I’d be lying if I said every bedtime was a gong-show; it isn’t. Most nights are relatively incident-free. But tonight, while my hubby was putting away at a golf tournament, the kids thought they’d up the ante.

Let’s start from the beginning. Today started off about an hour earlier than normal, which was okay, except neither of the kids had an appetite for breakfast. We watched Aladdin – yay – and all was well. After the little one’s first nap we had a quick lunch, which the 4-year-old refused to eat. Apparently grilled cheese is not acceptable these days. Then we hopped in the car and headed for a playdate at a friend’s house not too far from us. The youngest one – I kid you not – screamed at the top of his lungs the whole drive because I had not brought him a cracker. I had other snacks, but he wanted a damn cracker. Once there, he stayed on my lap almost the entire time. And when our little friend, only 16 months, would come over to play, he’d try to push her away or take whatever she had out of her hand. I mean, what the heck? Shouldn’t the second born be great at sharing? Seriously, his big sister has to share all of her shit with him.

After our playdate, the youngest had another nap and his big sister decided to turn up her asshole meter just a tad. That was fun. Then the baby woke up and thank goodness, dinner was almost ready. The kids even played “night night” for a few minutes, laying on blankets in the dark kitchen, giggling.

kids-playing-night-night-in-the-kitchen

I really do try to keep my fridge full and my meals healthy. So tonight I whipped up some yummy chicken and chickpea chili; I loved it. I put grated cheese on theirs and they BARELY TOUCHED IT. You’d think I’d slopped four-day-old porridge into their bowls. The baby picked out the fresh avocado I added to his and mostly rubbed it on the table. The big kid acted like she’d eaten it all, but mostly pushed it around her bowl.

After a few meltdowns and scuffles between siblings, we hustled to the park not wanting to miss the lovely fall weather. We spent at least an hour at the park – the big kid obsessing over two adorable pugs and completely ignoring the sweet 4-year-old boy desperate to play with her. Meanwhile, the little guy spent almost the entire time picking up bark chips and putting them onto various surfaces, very important work for a 17-month-old. We left the park and as we walked home I smugly congratulated myself for hauling our asses to the park. I was confident bedtime would be a breeze after the fresh air and play time.

Never ever assume things will go according to plan when you have kids and you are solo parenting. The glass of wine and hot bath will have to wait until you’ve washed away the tears of neglect.

Since I hadn’t offered either one of my children a morsel of food all day, they were ravenous when we got home from the park. Making up for being starved by their mother – note the sarcasm dripping like wine into my glass – they scarfed down two bowls of oatmeal, a pear, an orange and a few carrots.

The baby went to bed without incident, or so I thought, and I preceded to entice my oldest to bed with promises of another chapter in her Rescue Princesses book. All was going well and I’d even started a second chapter – as she was still trying to fill her empty belly with an enormous garden carrot – when the baby starting screaming. He did not let up and it was clear I would need to leave one kid to attend to the other. I needn’t explain the exhausting details of what ensued over the next 30 minutes or so as I tried to convince both kids to go to bed.

Eventually I took a breather alone in the dark drinking the last of my Pinot Grigio, sobbing as the last drop disappeared. The big kid gave up and went to bed, but the littlest tried everything he could think of to get me to come into his room: “cracker” “poop” “up”. Knowing that it was unlikely he’d fall asleep without his special blankie – he’d purposely thrown that out of his bed – I went in to ask him what he needed. He signed “eat” over and over until I took him to the kitchen. Since he’d only just eaten a huge bowl of homemade oatmeal and a ton of fruit, he was starving. He was finally satisfied after a dazzling array of crackers, sausage and grape tomatoes.

empty-wine-glasss

And then there was the sweet sound of silence and sleeping children.

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