Hidey Ho Scribblers – J Monkeys here. So way back in June when school ended, I was having a drink with some mommy friends. Several of them offered up this sentiment: “Oh, I just love the summer, having my kids home and being able to spend time with them.”
Hmmm, I did not agree – I was dreading summer (not like going to the dentist, but more like needing to make a trip to the Department of Motor Vehicles) – and I immediately felt guilty and like a failure as a mother. What is wrong with me? Why don’t I like spending 24 hours a day, for 75 consecutive days with my children? I must be a terrible parent! For those who don’t know, I have a whiny 7-year-old Niecey-Poo and 4.5 year old twin boys, Generally Good Child and Mr. Pissy Pants.
But wait, I absolutely LOVE my children. I would happily die to save them from a zombie apocalypse or some other more mundane tragedy. What is wrong with me?
Well, here we are 72 days in and I thought I’d share the last 12 hours with you. I hope you enjoy it more than I did…and honestly, it wasn’t a bad day.
- 6:30 this morning – I awoke and began work before I even got out of bed – the children were up and ready for a snack and a movie. I made hubby’s lunch, made my bed, fed the cat, bathed and dressed Mr. Pissy Pants, let the dog out and cooked breakfast.
- 7:45 – I showered and checked my email – deleting a bunch of things that I wasn’t going to read anyway.
- 8:00 – I parked the children at the dining room table and fed them breakfast amid many complaints about the nature of the pastry I had prepared for them. Mmmmm – butter braid from Niecey-Poo’s school fundraiser last year. I negotiated a battle over vitamins and Poop Juice (Juice to make the boys poop, not poop flavored. Ewww. We’ve been potty training FOREVER! and Mr. Pissy Pants refuses to have his BMs without the fiber powder in his juice. TMI?) I dressed one kid, put shoes on two.
- 8:25 – Fiber’s working! Mr. No BM (aka Mr. Pissy Pants) has missed the commode again. He needs another shower and a second set of clothes.
- 8:30 – I head upstairs to inspect the damage to Mr. Pissy Pants’ bed. Even wearing a overnight pull up, he’s somehow managed to pee through not one but 2 rubber sheets and onto his mattress – again! Thank God for Nature’s Miracle. Make note to move “New Mattress” up the As-Soon-As-There’s-Extra-$ list. I decided to clean the boy’s room and give them back some toys. We had removed all toys a couple of months ago after a regular barrage of trains, cars, potato heads and more trains were being flung at the windows. I vacuumed the room, organized the sleepy-buddies, issued 11 instructions to “Go outside and play!” kissed 2 boo-boos, agreed with a 7-year old tantrum of “You’re SO mean! I’m not your friend any more!” and finally offered one stern admonishment to sing more quietly to not wake the neighbors.
- 9:25 – put in the second load of laundry for the day, folded yesterday’s laundry, fed the kids a snack, sent them back out to play 8 times ,and told them to close the back door 13 times. It took 55 minutes for me to watch a 40 minute TV show on DVD.
- 10:30 – I swear to God, one of the children complained, “There’s a fly in the house – where’s the fly swabber?” Really? A fly? How did that get in? Could it be a result of the now 19 times you didn’t close the back door?! And yes, some people have fly swatters; we have a fly swabber. Then there was an incident resulting in Generally Good Child sobbing that Niecy-Poo wasn’t his best friend any more. Nicey-Poo pitched a fit because I wouldn’t abandon the dishes I was washing to find 1990’s Beany Baby names hidden in a word search. And I had a 10 minute “conversation” where Mr. Pissy Pants said, “I want a snack.” I replied, “We have to go to the grocery store.” Mr. Pissy Pants countered with, “I don’t want to go to the grocery store. I want a snack.” We went around and around.
- 11:00 – fed snack #2 to them. I wrote a menu for next week (the only writing I’ve gotten done lately, by the way!) and drafted a grocery list.
- 11:45 – amid demands to play with the newly resurrected trains, I left the twins home with their Aunt and took Niecey-Poo off to run errands, including a trip to the grocery store.
- 12:30 – Abandoned errands to return home. Mr. I-BM-In-My-Pants had struck again, twice, and Auntie was done. I cleaned up the $hit storm, gave him his 3rd shower of the day and his 3rd set of clothing as well. I never did get to the grocery store. Sat with them as they ate the wholly unhealthy lunch that Auntie made with nary a complaint among them. Brats.
- 1:00 – I sent them to play with trains and escaped to fetch Mommy’s Little Helper from Dairy Queen. It’s an addiction I’m trying to quit, but really, if a bowl of ice cream helps me get through the day…maybe it’s best to have the ice cream. When the kids can’t see me, of course.
- 2:00 – we played in the pool for a while and then they watched The Lorax while I hung out on my computer for a bit. My husband slays zombies on his PC for stress relief, I settle people into a nice B&B.
- 4:30 – I made dinner which none of the children were willing to eat, even when Hubby got home from work at 5:15.
- 6:00 – we went to the playground until…
- 7:00 – it was time for bed. Finally! The boys are asleep and now at 9:26, I’m done with my blog post (nearly) and I need to check on Niecey-Poo to see if she’s catching Z’s yet. It’s now 9:37, and she’s sitting here next to me wondering why I won’t write her actual name…sigh. Go the ____ to Sleep! (links to the awesome book read by Samuel Jackson – completely inappropriate for children.
So, maybe it’s my kids’ ages, maybe it’s the fact that we’ve been potty training for a very long 14 months and though we’re closing in on it, there’s still a bit to go. Generally Good Child has this down and Mr. Pissy Pant’s doctor has given me some things to try, including a modification to the poop juice formula, and an increase in the consumption of fruits that start with the letter P. Pears, peaches, plums. Maybe my frustrations have something to do with the fact that as a writer, I’d like to spend several hours at a time in my head interacting with the character’s there, but I haven’t even been to visit lately.
Today’s Secret: Whatever the reason for my dread about my previously favorite season, I don’t think the problem is that I’m a bad mother. And look, I got a blog post out of it.
Today’s Question: What do you do with 1800 consecutive hours with your children?