There should be a competition for parenting to see who can do what without permanently damaging their offspring.….. If not an official competition there should at least be some type of medal ceremony bi-weekly to all the mothers who semi-successfully accomplish anything during the week. In the cluster smuck of normal day a child can ask their mother on average 129,652 questions and 129,650 of them are usually demands and unrealistic requests. The rest fall on deaf ears and are usually met with a reply of, “sure whatever as long as you clean up after yourself” which of course the child promises to do and of course the child does not do…
Often times during the week something dip shitty stops me in my tracks and I’m forced to ask myself, “what the heck is happening here” and I can’t retrace my mental steps that lead me to insanity island. For instance, one typical Tuesday night while the kids are playing peacefully in the tub (aka while the kids are splashing around like rabid dolphins and trying to fit all their toys in the tub) I decided I would get all proactive on this Mother Gig and straighten up their sink. GO ME! I have determined that it is virtually impossible for my children to get toothpaste on their actual toothbrush on their first try. First try usually ends up on the counter, second try on the bathroom rug, and third try is ½ on their brush and the other ½ is plopped in the sink and is almost instantly transformed to multi colored cement. So I start washing the counters, putting headbands in the actual headband box, clearing off clutter and what have ya….. And before I knew it Kylee looks at me and says, “Mom what are you doing?” I look down and was bathing my son’s toy dinosaur in the sink. With soap. And a rag. Under normal mentally stable conditions this dinosaur would have been chunked into the toy box without any regard to its safety let alone sanitary status…. But on this particular Tuesday my wires were disconnected so I bathed two kids….and a dinosaur.
Then of course there is the obstacle course of laundry and dinner. Sometimes I attempt to do both but most of the time only one is done successfully. On this particular Thursday night I was so exhausted from cooking dinner. Pause for interpretation and clarification. The act of cooking dinner isn’t the exhausting part. It’s the act of cooking with children coming into your kitchen non-stop with snack requests, drink requests, meal requests, band-aid requests, show requests and any other requests that fall under the sun. Cooking dinner with two young children running lose in a
spacious apartment is like doing the hokie
pokie at a skating ring. Difficult, pointless and someone always falls down. The
ultimate reward of getting thru this
insanity course is to watch your kids take about 3 bites of your meal only to
say, “I’m not hungry… Can we watch TV and eat later?” Insert blank and defeated
stare here….followed by NO. That night, the laundry I started while
multi tasking dinner went through a full cycle before I realized I was out of
laundry detergent. Fail.
We are routine family. We have a routine no matter what day of the week it is. Even if the routine itself is to have NO routine, there is still a routine. So Monday night for some reason we were way ahead of our normal schedule… Dinner was ready early, therefore bath times came early and an early bedtime was on the horizon and I just knew I was gonna get to watch some backed up DVR’ed Real Housewives. The night was going well. Then I hear Kylee (5 years) call for me. I get to her room and her legs are squatted as if riding an imaginary horse and she says to me, “I seriously just pooped on myself.” Insert blank bewildered stare here…. After clean up #1 I decided I needed a clean up too. As I am getting out of the shower Kylee is standing there with a soaked shirt. Logan dumped tea on her head. Clean up #2 immediately followed by
wine bedtime. I tell Kylee to go get ready for bed which typically
consists of pouting, pathetic begging sleep with me, and the sacrifice of her
first born in exchange for staying up. Also it includes brushing her hair and
teeth and using the bathroom. I go to her bathroom to see what is taking so
long and I find her standing on the toilet, one foot on each side. Insert blank
and confused stare here. After asking the obvious question, she replies
with “Hold on I wanna see if I can make it in.” Clean up #3. Good night.
Sometimes parenting, whether single parenting or dual parenting is so chaotic you’re considered lucky if you get thru it with enough sanity to hold a conversation with the check out girl from Target. So to all the parents out there who are competing in the Special Olympics of parenting just know you aren’t competing alone. There are more of us out here. If we’re hard to spot it’s because we’re curled in a corner somewhere in the fetal position holding on to what’s left of our mental stability.
A picture is worth 1,000 words