I hate when people tell me they feel sorry for me because they got a small taste of what I "go through" after theirs husbands have put in a couple long days at work and don't come home until after their kids' bedtimes. It doesn't make it easier to not feel sorry for myself. Sometimes I daydream about what life would look like with a hubby who works a regular 9-5 job. Sometimes I day dream about having a second hubby that could fill in while Ry is at work. Now wouldn't THAT be nice. This phase of life with the kids all so young is just so exhausting. Rewarding, but oh so exhausting.
And weird. Just found a frog in the bathroom. Actually, the frog was stuck in the plastic frog toy holder in the bathtub. Funny. It would have been real nice to send in the man to take care of it. OR the backup hubby.
But at least I have a husband. At least my kids have a dad that is around. At least he isn't deployed for a year. At least he isn't a deadbeat. At least, at least, at least. I'll keep my "problems" because it could always be worse. I've actually got it pretty darn good.
I had someone (not using these words, but more insinuating) tell me that when the kids get into a bunch of crap and I talk about how they "destroyed this" or "set off a bomb" that--that it isn't a commentary of how bad the kids are but rather how I just haven't been vigilant in watching them.
First, I never said they were bad... I usually use the word, "overwhelming." Second, I had 4 kids here 3 years old and under. Asher was teething and hadn't slept more than a half hour all day compared to his 3 regular naps of about 2 hours each. Ameira was weeping and ridiculously horrible because of her molars, her wheezing, her lack of sleep the night before, and because she was so hungry despite turning down most food on account of her mouth hurting. She literally cried about 45 minutes of every hour she was awake. Aayla was a grumpy drama queen because she had horrible sleep the night before because of Ameira's coughing/screaming fits. And the fourth little love was destroying my house. A bowl of sugar was taken from the kitchen counter and toddled through the house as it spilled its granulated goodness everywhere. A plate of syrupy french toast was taken to the couch and dumped upside down. All of the books were taken off the bookshelf and scattered on the floor. (which is a pet peeve of mine) Cat food was being eaten, soaked in the water dish and then mashed, sat in (and then deposited everywhere ELSE that little bottom sat) and taken by handfuls into the living room, bathroom and kitchen. A crayon was taken to my wall. A box of sewing pins was dumped over the 5 month old. Toilet paper was unrolled and then shredded throughout the house. And all of this was before 11am.
So where was I?
Tending to the other children that were demanding attention a little more loudly. All of these things happened at different times while I was either feeding the baby, helping the baby fall asleep (remember, he wasn't really napping and incredibly cranky from the teeth), cleaning up the other messes, tending to someone getting out of timeout, OR WHILE I WAS STANDING RIGHT THERE. It happens.
At first I was offended. Then I realized that the person who said it hadn't really had to take care of more than one child at a time... and therefore, their opinion was utterly and completely irrelevant. Whatever dude.
Kids are a lot of work. Cute, but oh so exhausting. This pretty much sums it up: After a few nights of taking a glass of wine I was waking up with a killer headache. I've only ever had two (small) glasses at the most so it didn't make sense. Then I realized that I am dehydrated just about all the time. I realized that it is kind of on purpose. Why?
I don't always have time to go to the bathroom. It's that simple.