What is it about Mondays that make my children go bananas? Why am I always out of milk, eggs and bread on Mondays? Why do I always remember I am out of these things after I pick up the kids? Why do I always forget to take something out for dinner Monday morning? Why does Logan scream like a wild Banshee the second I put him in his car seat? Why does Kylee feel she deserves candy for being good?
I love her creative way of warning me before we enter the store that she can and will make this trip to Kroger a trip to hell if I don’t give her an incentive for being good? Like it is an option for her or something. I always say a quick prayer before entering….anywhere with the kids… The store, church, post office, Target, the bank, my mom’s, our apartment… Anywhere there are people. I pray that in the event that the children get a wild hair up their arse that I will have the patience not to end up on the 6 o’clock news. So far, so good.
Let me just say thank you to whoever invented those miniature shopping carts that whack me in the Achilles tendon because the driver of the cart can’t pay attention and browse all the sugar filled- strategically placed at eye level junk, and pay attention at the same time. Logan is so over being trapped in a cart, btw. So I play the eat this, play with this, drink this game until he chooses to stand up and tries leap 3 shelves down out of the cart. Oy Vey! Aren’t 18 month olds so fun?! As I am navigating 1 child from ramming the old lady in the canned food aisle, distracting the other child from plummeting to his demise my cell phone was going off nonstop! Each call got worse and worse. It was all work related, and from my previous post, you know that I talk to many people whose IQ is equivalent to a snapping turtle. The frustration level is rising, and my arm pits have begun sweating and my deodorant is kicked into overdrive. All grocery stores need to create a MOMMY AISLE which would naturally consist of the following:
· Samples of wine
· A baby sitter
· Fruit snacks, gushers and fruit roll ups
· Capri suns
· Chicken nuggets
· Easy Mac N’ Cheese
· Advil, Tylenol and IB profin
· Butt paste
· Ground beef
· Chicken breast
But seriously, why haven’t the grocery store chains created a small playroom where we can drop our tykes off while we do our shopping? We all know what the childless shoppers think of us when we bring our germy rambunctious kids in with us. We can physically feel the irritation radiating off of you as our carts get closer. We know because believe it or not, we have come here without our brats a time or two in the past and the roles are quickly reversed. We can transform from the pitiful mother who has no control of her offspring to the judgy wudgy spectator in .25 seconds. Or is that just me? Sigh.
We finally finished up at the store, left with ½ of what was on my list and no dignity. I pop dinner in the oven the second we get home, because let’s face it; they are going to bed early! My metal tolerance for toddlerhood is being exercised at a very intense tempo.
Kylee can count up to 25, sometimes… But she can’t quite count how many of ME there actually are. She gives me way too much credit. I wish she thought less of me. HA! I pin Logan down and tickle him because his laugh fills my love tank up when I am running on fumes. I can’t hear it enough. Immediately, Kylee says in her oh so annoying toddler brat voice, Mommy, you NEVER play with me! Oh, my bad, did we not just play store where you were the shopper and I was the “buyer”? No, you’re right; I like to color in Princess Babrie coloring books in my spare time. That wasn’t “playing”, that was serious artistic expression. Chill out! There is only one of me Kylee, I have to play with you both. And since Logan still likes to eat Crayons, I can’t sit and color with you all night long. But you NEVER tickle me! Ya because you kick me like a donkey, scream, cry or laugh (not sure which) then run off to pout because YOU HATE TO BE TICKLED! Excuse me for respecting your wishes. You say, Don’t tickle me mommy, therefore I don’t tickle you, but I am supposed to interpret that as you want to be tickled, only when you see your brother being tickled? Ok, I am legitimately confused and there will be no more tickling going on in this house!! I love that amnesia doesn’t discriminate against just the elderly. Kylee has a severe case of it. I NEVER play with her, I NEVER cook anything good, I NEVER buy her anything, I NEVER let her help, I NEVER let her sleep with me, I NEVER get to watch my shows. I NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER…. If I NEVER play with you, then why am I exhausted? If I NEVER cook anything good, then why is your brother so plump? If I NEVER buy you anything, why am I broke and your shoe collection more up to date than mine? If I NEVER let you help then why are all my towels folded zig zagged? I didn’t know that was possible, but it is. If I NEVER let you sleep with me, then why do I have your foot in my back and crumbs in my bed? If I NEVER let you watch your shows, then why do I have every episode of Olivia memorized and the theme song to Ni Hao Kai Lan playing in my head all day long? You see, my dear sweet first born, what I NEVER do is sleep in, read a full chapter of a book uninterrupted, go to the bathroom ALONE, cook without wails of hungry cries, watch one of my shows without you sneaking out of bed to ask me a million questions, or finish a glass of wine before it gets warm. I’m not sure the radio in my car still works because your movies are the only thing playing! Don’t tell me this life is not orbiting around your needs and wants, because trust me, it is! While your amnesia for all I sacrifice for you is beneficial in your attempt to manipulate me into buying you gum, it is not conducive to my self esteem as a mother. So for crap’s sake stop it!
Life has taken me to a new world of exhaustion. I have realized that good intentions don’t guarantee good results. For instance, I have every intention of blow drying my hair, but at the end of the day I don’t have a drop of energy left for myself let alone my hair. A ponytail tomorrow isn’t the end of the world right? Right! I find very creative ways to justify my laziness too and I am worried. I am sure I could patent some of these ideas.. Hmmm. That’s something to think about when I have time to think. When will that be, Kylee?
But at the end of the day, the fatigue we mommas feel is like a badge of honor. If you ever worry if you are a good mom, check your exhaustion levels… If you don’t have an ounce of oomph left to pluck your uni-brow, blow dry your hair, give yourself a manicure, read a book without pictures, take a bath, exfoliate anything, shave your legs or make something from scratch, then you are doing a GREAT job! And as hard as it can be to give yourself some dang credit for how awesome you are at the single mom gig, the devote wife gig, or whatever your gig is, the bottom line is at the end of the day, your little fart knockers got a hot meal, roof over their head, a story and a bed to call their own, and that alone is worth a trophy or maybe a chocolate bar of some sorts. Good job fellow mommas out there!