ENJOY!!
As
evening approaches, this Mom whips up a nutritious dinner in just ten
minutes
while the children (and their clean hands and faces), set the table and
sing a
happy song just as Dad comes in the door from his hard day at work.
Yeah, right. I will have to admit, when I quit my job as a computer
programmer analyst, I thought that staying at home with two (soon to be
three)
kids would be a cinch. Boy was I wrong! I have found that if I leave
at
least two dishes in the sink overnight, they will propagate into a
sink-full
by morning. I do not understand why the dishes give birth in the sink
instead
of in the dishwasher. The only things I find in the dishwasher in the
morning are wadded up newspapers and an occasional rubber snake.
The
same
scenario happens with my laundry hamper,
although the laundry hamper is
much
worse.
I have often thought of installing a hidden video camera to see
where
these clothes are coming from.
When my husband leaves for work in the morning,
(after his obligatory
peck
on my cheek),
I can almost see him skipping to his pickup truck.
It
seems as
if he is singing: "no more dirty diapers, no more dirty dishes,
I'm
going to
play with my calculator and telephone all day in my quiet office
where I
can
go to a bathroom there ALL BY MYSELF-neener, neener, neener!"
Jerk. He
has
such an easy time during the week.
On weekends, he gets a small
taste of the "real life"
when I hide in the minivan (with the doors
locked)
to read a magazine
and have some much needed time alone.
The kids
eventually
find me and beat on the door
yelling to me that they are hungry.
Sigh.
Poor
old Dad--he is way too busy flipping between racing, golf, and football
on the
television to feed his offspring.
My day is filled with stuff to do.
One of my working friends (who
obviously did not have kids),
innocently asked me, "What do you do all
day?"
My response was, "What don't I do all day?"
In the morning, when I awaken, I pull on my tee shirt and sweat pants and start working.
There are hungry kids, a hungry cat, a hungry husband,
toys on the floor, dirty dishes, dirty laundry,
overflowing toilets (due to non-flushable wipes being flushed),
dirty sheets, dirty diapers, spilled milk, ringing telephones,
fighting kids, empty cupboards, full dryers, Cheerios on the floor,
a two-day missing bottle of milk, and did I mention dirty dishes?
Sitting down and consuming a meal is a challenge for me.
I have tried to eat when the kids eat, but when I sit down with
my coffee and toast they start yelling, "I want some toast too!"
"My milk's gone, I want sum more!"
Not to be outdone, the baby will holler "DA!"
and throw his plate of eggs on the floor.
I have tried eating when the kids are finished with breakfast.
Even
though they are off playing at the other end of the house,
they hear the toaster and start hovering around me whining
that they want a bite and are starving to death.
All this while the baby crawls underneath the table
and tries to climb up in my lap biting my calves along the way.
As far as eating bonbons go, I would have to possibly eat them
on my way to the bathroom. I would scoop a couple off the
kitchen counter, and shove them in my mouth right after
I change a diaper, while I walk my "I-gotta-pee-real-bad"
walk,
with three kids chasing after me demanding Kool-Aid,
grape Pop
Tarts,
and their own bonbons.
When evening approaches at my house, the only "whipping up" going on
is
either what I am doing to the potatoes
or what I am threatening to do to
the
kids.
I definitely spend more than ten minutes preparing an edible
supper
just to have the kids say, "Yuck, shoe-nasty. Can I have cereal?"
As for the happy song, this is what I hear:
Four-year-old: (to the tune of the Barney song)
"I love you/butt/you love me/butt/we're a happy butt butt BUTT!"
Six-year-old: (shrieking sounds)
"I'm ignoring you!" "Mommy,
make him
stop sayin' 'butt'!"
One-year-old: (giggling madly)
"Buh, buh, buh!"
Isn't that special? My one-year-old's first word is 'butt'.
When
the
father of my children walks in the door in the evening,
he asks,
"Butt?"
I
respond with, "Yes, butt. It's been a 'butt-day', dear."
Maybe I am not doing it right.
I could let the dishes, toys,
Cheerios, and
laundry pile up around me,
and my family could eat cereal for supper.
I
could
possibly lounge around during the day in my floral moo-moo,
sipping a Yoo Hoo, and nibbling barbecue pork rinds while I flip between
Oprah and Fishing With Roland Martin on the tube.
My kids could join me and learn the art of fly
fishing and positive affirmation.
That's the life!
I think I'll start it tomorrow. . .
My husband came home today and saw me sitting on the couch,
toddler on one knee, and baby nursing on the opposite breast.
I was trying to turn the pages of a book with the hand
not attached to the infant,
while listening for the sound of the stove
buzzer,
which would indicate that tonight's porkchops
were at the stage
between "well-done" and "the dog gets tonight's entrée".
My husband looked at me innocently, and asked,
"So, did you do anything today?"
It's a good thing that most of my appendages were otherwise engaged,
as I was unable to jump up and throttle him to death.
This was probably for the best,
as I assume that asking a stupid question
is not grounds for murder in this country.
Let me back up a bit,
and explain what led me to this point in my life.
I was not always bordering on the brink of insanity.
On the contrary, a mere four years ago, I had a good job,
steady income, and a vehicle that could NOT seat
a professional sports team, and me, comfortably.
I watched television shows that were not hosted by singing
puppets.
I went to bed later than nine o'clock at night.
I preferred sex to sleeping in.
I laughed at those people who drove half way across the
country
hauling a tent trailer, three screaming kids, a drooling dog,
and called it a holiday.
Now I have become one of them.
What happened?
The stick turned blue.
I have traded in my Victoria's Secrets lingerie
for cotton briefs and a firm-support nursing bra.
Good-bye, Garth Brooks.
Hello, Sharon, Lois and Bram.
My idea of privacy is getting to use the bathroom
without a two-year old banging on the door,
and the baby spinning the toilet paper roll from my lap.
And I finally understand that the term "Stay At Home Mom"
does not refer to a parent who no longer works outside the house,
but rather to one who never seems to get out the front door.
So here I sit children in hand,
wondering how to answer my beloved husband.
Did I do anything today?
Well, I think I did, although not much seems to have gotten accomplished.
I shared breakfast in bed with a handsome young man.
Of course, the breakfast consisted of a bowl of porridge
and leftover cookie crumbs found between the sheets.
The handsome young man is about thirty-four inches tall
and only gets really excited at the sight of purple dinosaurs,
toy trucks and French fries.
I got to take a relaxing stroll in the woods.
Of course I was on the lookout for frogs and lizards,
and had to stop to smell the dandelions along the way.
I successfully washed one load of laundry,
moved the load that was in the washer into the dryer,
and the dryer load into the basket.
The load that was in the basket is now spread out on the bed,
awaiting my bedtime decision to actually put the clothes away
or merely move them to the top of the dresser.
I read two or three classics.
Out loud.
Of course, Dickens or Shakespeare cannot take credit for these
works,
as we have moved on to the works of Seuss and Munsch.
I don't think I will be making any trips to the Adult Section
of my local library anytime soon.
In between, I dusted, wiped, organized and rearranged.
I kissed away the owies and washed away the tears.
I scolded, praised, hugged and tested my patience,
all before noon.
Did I do anything today?
You betcha.
I now understand what people mean when they say
that parenthood is the hardest job they will ever have.
In my LBD (life before diapers)
I was able to teach young minds how to divide fractions and write complex sentences,
but I am unable of teaching a strong-willed two-year-old how to use the toilet.
I was once able to navigate urban streets
while talking on the car phone and looking for a decent radio
station,
but now I can't get the wheels on my stroller
to all go in the same direction.
I've graduated from university, written newspaper articles,
and won awards,
but I can't figure out how to get carrot stains out of the carpet.
I used to debate with my friends about politics,
but now we discuss the merits of cloth versus disposable.
And when did I stop talking in sentences that had more than five words?
So in response to my husband's inquiry,
yes, I did do something today.
In fact, I am one step closer to one of Life's greatest accomplishments.
No, I did not cure AIDS or forge World Peace,
but I did hold a miracle in my arms.
Two, in fact.
My children are my great accomplishment,
and the opportunity to raise them in my greatest challenge.
I don't know if my children will grow up to be great leaders
or world-class brain surgeons.
Frankly, I don't care, as long as they grow up to be happy and fulfilled.
They are my greatest joys,
even though I sometimes cry myself to sleep at night in
frustration.
The point is, that today I got to watch my children take another step
on the great journey of Life,
and I even got to point out some of the sights along the way.
As challenging as parenthood is,
it is also equally rewarding,
because we are using all our wisdom, our talent and skills
to help forge a new person.
It is this person, these people,
who in turn will use their gifts to create our future.
So every nursery rhyme I recite, every swing I push,
every little hand I hold is Something.
And I did it today.
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