Yesterday was one of those days....one of those days that I didn't enjoy my job. The boys woke up at 6:45 that morning. I promptly sent them back to bed and told them that just because the sun was up, didn't mean that they had to be. They went back to their room, but not to sleep. Pretty soon I heard fighting and I gave up and sent them downstairs for chocolate milk and cartoons. My midnight bedtime and Benji's 3:45am feeding had me feeling a little grouchy that early in the day. The morning started off with a bang and it continued that way as Benjamin wanted to nurse and be held all day. My back was and is still killing me from all the holding and nursing and lack of stomach muscles for the last few months. I had to let him cry it out a lot, which I hate, but I make myself do. The boys are going stir-crazy already this summer, since we haven't gotten out like we have done other summers. It's harder now with a newborn in tow. Seems like the simplest of errands leaves me feeling erratic, overwhelmed, and sweaty....very sweaty. I never used to sweat in my younger days, but since I've become a mother, stressful situations with my children make me sweat. For instance, grocery store trips, frantically trying to feed everyone as quickly as possible, "leisurely" neighborhood walks where in our neighborhood, people drive like their on motor speedway, or trying to get all three boys loaded into the car to head out the door.
We had decided to go swimming at a friends' house yesterday afternoon. I had given myself a two hour head start to pack everything up, make lunches, change into our swimsuits, and get out the door. Sounds like plenty of time and even a little extra for the unexpected things, but no. These days, it seems like no matter how much time I give myself, I'm always running 15 minutes late somewhere. The math does not add up no matter how hard I try, I don't get it. I break up a couple fist fights, send one to time out for the 17th time, change Ben's diaper...again, I try to get out of my pj's and into my clothes...for the 3rd time. Somehow, I manage to get everyone packed up and heading toward the car...Ben still screaming (he hates the car seat). As I'm walking to my car, I remember thinking, "That dumpster smells terrible," referring to our trashcan. Only, I open the car door and realize the smell is worse inside my car. Jackson starts yelling, "Gross! What's that smell?" I'm looking under the seats, for shoes or dirty socks, a spoiled bottle, anything to blame the stink on. I open the back hatch and notice a forgotten grocery bag...with a chicken in it. "OH...MY...GOSH! Daddy forgot a bag in the back!" I say, just as Cole starts gagging and dry heaving. I pick it up only to realize it's liquefying and dripping out of the sack. I toss it in the dumpster and go to grab Cole out of the car before he get sick and makes the smell worse. Now Cole is crying saying, "I want to go swim, but I don't want to ride in the stinky carrrrrr!" Ben....still screaming. Jack...asking a million questions like, "Why did dad do that? Will our car smell like this forever? Are we going to have to buy a new car? Can we still go swim?" I...am sweating...profusely. And leaking milk through my shirt...and cursing my husband's name. Motherhood is NOT for punks.
I clean up the mess and hang the car rug on the fence to dry...which reminds me, it wasn't still hanging on the fence when I got home, so either it blew in the backyard from the Oklahoma wind yesterday or someone stole it. Note to self, go look for that in a few minutes. Anyway, we get to the pool...in one piece. Jack, however did look a little green for a while. Poor baby.
The day eventually turns better when I look through the pictures on my phone and see this...
Gosh, he melts my heart and makes me forget about all the things I hate about my job. All of them do. They say the sweetest things, or bring me flowers, or make me a wedding ring out of a flower stem. I love my boys...and the "paycheck" they give me.
