Thank Goodness for Merlot: Mondays Suck!


Thank Goodness for Merlot: Mondays Suck!

March 6, 2017

Mondays are tough. This Monday was made exponentially more challenging by the fact that Grandma has been in Mexico since Saturday and Daddy was in a course all weekend. That left me, Mommy, to solo parent two rambunctious, cooped up kids amid a snowstorm. It also left no time to slip off to a spin or barre class, which I desperately need to maintain what little sanity still remains intact. Thankfully I had booked a TRX Barre class tonight at Xtend Barre with my pal Jeanette – and I used that to fuel myself through the day, knowing if I just made it to dinnertime, I’d get a break.

Fast forward to 5 p.m. and Daddy broke the bad news: he was going to have to work late. My gas tank was suddenly empty. All that chugging along I did all day, chasing them around the play place, having dance parties in the kitchen, playing the lava game in the living room, it caught up to me. Suddenly, the thought of no exercise and dealing with dinnertime and bedtime alone hit me like a tonne of bricks. The kids must’ve noticed my mood change – okay, maybe I hid in my son’s room for a few minutes and cried – because they ramped up the antics.

Now to be fair, I’m a fairly loud and energetic person myself, so naturally, my kids are the same. But that does not explain their lurid behaviour tonight. Twice tonight I looked over and saw my son – 22 months – dumping milk on the floor from his sippy cup. Before I could utter a word, he’d sat himself in it and began splashing around. Exasperated, all I could do was mutter “for fuck sakes” under my breath and offer him a towel to clean it up with, which he did with gusto. I often wonder if this kid makes messes just so he can clean them up.

The next thing I know, I’ve spilled my daughter’s water all over the floor, and I’m running out of towels for mopping. What a shitshow. Somehow we survived supper time. I made a delicious Teriyaki Shrimp Stir Fry with brown rice, which I devoured. What about my kids, you ask? My son refused to eat the rice,  peppers, and shrimp. Instead he ate all the mushrooms. MUSHROOMS! And his big sister? Well, she ate the shrimp  – ALL THE SHRIMP – and refused to eat any of the sauce-infused vegetables. She eventually ate her rice after much coaxing and several spoonfuls of feta cheese. WTF?

After dinner, and trying to avoid looking at the rice-covered floor, I offered both kids a cupcake with some yummy pink icing, topped with a few chocolate chips. Little brother happily accepted his rations and dove in, his face covered in pink icing in a matter of seconds. Big sister, on the other hand, had determined that she was given the wrong cupcake, and began to scream at a pitch so high I worried my wine glasses might shatter. I continued to offer her the cupcake – identical to her brother’s – and when it was clear she wasn’t going to relent, I ate it. I know; I’m a dick. The shrill became shriller as she screamed how much she wanted her cupcake. When I refused to give her a new cupcake, she proceeded to call herself “stupid” for not taking the cupcake in the first place, a mistake I’m sure she won’t make again.

Early or not, I decided that it was time for bed. We started getting little brother ready, but big sister wanted him to try on his Paw Patrol underwear; little brother is not potty trained. Both kids pranced around the living room happily in their underwear and I figured, let them tucker themselves out. The party continued on the couch where we made a simple fort and prepared to read our bedtime stories, that is until I realized that little brother had peed on the couch. Instead of becoming angry or frustrated, big sister and I laughed. We laughed and laughed and little brother laughed too. We got little brother into his diaper and jammies, sprayed the couch with stain remover, and began to read our stories.

If someone had asked me what bedtime would look like when I had kids, I would not have known what to say nor could I have imagined. Bedtime as a solo parent looks a lot like a back alley brawl. I try to contain the toddler on my knee while the rabid 5-year-old prances around. Crammed on the rocking chair, a toddler on one knee, a 4-foot-tall 5-year-old on the other, and an elbow deep in my right boob, I struggled through the six Paw Patrol books the pack had chosen. That was an hour ago. Little brother is still fooling around in his bed, singing songs. Big sister has not emerged so I’m hoping she’s asleep.

If you’re looking for me, I’ll be here sipping chugging my Merlot and stuffing my face with dark chocolate while I catch up on Scandal!

You can do anything with a little wine.

I’m a real-life mom and this is my confession.



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