Monday, April 26th 2010
2:00am – Finally go to bed. Not sure if it was the excitedness of it being quiet, or loneliness of hubby away, but I absolutely could not get to sleep.
2:00am-7:00am – Toss and turn, get punched, kicked, brawl, scare myself awake all night because of the three youngest sleeping with me. I just couldn’t get comfortable, and I have a whopping headache. God help me.
7:00am – Baby starts stirring, wants awake. I pop a boob in his mouth and try to forget my name with the way my head was hurting.
7:30am – Baby wakes up, gets down off the bed. I bring him into the play room across the hall and give him the bucket of matchbox cars.
8:15am – Baby Dude comes back into the room, trying to wake me up. And by trying to wake me up, I mean, wailing like a dying cat. My oldest son awakens and takes him downstairs to feed him some cereal and give him something to drink. Thank goodness for older children!! I bury my head under the pillow praying the headache goes away. Or that I suffocate it away. {Quivering lip}
9:20am – Baby Dude returns, oldest son boasts about taking good care of him. I feel somewhat alright, so I make my way downstairs to find something to eat, a drink, and brew some much-needed coffee. Headache is slightly better, at least I can see straight.
My oldest arises, who I lovingly refer to as “Lurch” in the mornings, as she just stands there, motionless, kind-of stalkerish just watching in a creepy way. I recall she didn’t do what I asked her to do the night before (bring me clothes) so, I ask her nicely, again. I think she obliges, but at least she isn’t creeping me out at the moment. Headache pulses while I get my blood pressure raised at the idea of beginning my day repeating commands to, of all people, my oldest. Grrrr.
9:45am – Fiber One caramel-flavored cereal being inhaled digested, coffee is ready, first installment of supplements taken. Will add a couple ibuprofen, too. And some M-Grain oil, just to be safe.
10:00am – Oh, migraine oil, how I love thee.
Had to physically go upstairs to get oldest to follow through with what I asked her to do, as she didn’t do it completely. What the hell? {Insert mumbled expletives under breath here}
Everyone’s awake, ready for breakfast. Pancakes this morning, or baked french toast casserole a la Andrea? Or, ooh, maybe this cinnamon roll pancake bake recipe?
10:05am – Or, the olders already had cereal, and the littles are hungry RIGHTTHISVERYSECOND. So,cereal it is. I serve them Cascadian Farms Honey O’s with a sprinkle of cinnamon, raisins and milk. Kindergartner hands to me the seal for the milk calling it the “super-secret attachment.” I freaking love having boys.
Still making either pancakes of french toast, though. I stockpile the day before for rushed (and way early) school mornings.
10:10am – Annnnnd Baby Dude dumps his sister’s cereal on the floor. My morning wasn’t complete until now.
10:45am – Made toast for middle daughter. Still slurping away coffee while reading yard sale items on Craigslist and Bookoo.com, scheming ways to switch furniture around and sell things while hubby (aka The Other Strong Pair of Arms) is away. Headache dimming, but still not fully gone. I don’t want to get up.
11:00am – Oh crap. Game on. Kids are knocking at the door for my kids to come out. Flurry of activity in kids getting dressed, making beds, needing changed. So much for sitting.
11:28am – Holy freaking crap. Kids are whining, dressed, demanding. It’s like pulling teeth to get everyone situated today. Baby Dude whizzed on the floor before I could get him a diaper, and cleaned it up himself with the pants Baby Sis wanted to wear. I’ve said “Get out of the garbage can” more times than I want to admit. What gives? Why does it all turn to crap when hubby goes away?
11:45am – Day is redeemed. Baby Dude just picked Baby Sis a flower. {Heart melting}
11:45:10am – …except it was from my garden. {Sigh}
11:52am – Stop the presses! Oldest not only cleaned out the dishwasher (her chore) but is starting to load the dishwasher (my job). Whoa. Redeeming herself for earlier? Whatever her motives, I’ll take it!
Drinking Spirutein shake again. Feeling really shaky and jittery in a low-blood-sugar-y way.
12:00pm – Sucking down second cup of coffee like it’s suddenly going to make me sane. Toddler is seriously wearing me down. She wants a drink, she requests milk, I want to give her tea, as she already had milk with her TWO bowls of cereal this morning. I offer to give her chocolate milk for later, but it has to cool, so I put in a new “special milk” into the fridge to get cold, and she takes it out. I say no to regular milk, she takes it out. Driving me batshit crazy, I tell you. I finally pour her some tea and send her to the trampoline. Meanwhile, I spot my kindergartner lounging on the trampoline in the sun like it’s a hammock. I envy him.
Off to start lunch. And search for my nerve pill again.
12:15pm – Oldest son offers to make lunch. Hot dogs and reheated homemade macaroni and cheese. Shouldn’t be too hard.
12:20pm – Or, maybe not. He’s heating two hot dogs up at a time. This could take a while. “Baby, you can heat up all of them in this pan.”
“Ohhhhh!”
12:30pm – I’m in the bathroom playing fashion-model, trying on clothes from the sweet neighbor who is skinny as a rail and called me the same size as her. Must bake her a cake for that compliment.
12:32pm – Holy freaking crap! I squeezed my ass into a pair of size 3 jeans! Ahhh!! (Let’s not discuss the loose skin hanging over them, though. Or if I’m breathing or not.)
12:34pm – And another size 3!! Ahhhh!! (Still not breathing.)
12:45pm – Done playing fashion model. Am super-stoked with how I made out. Unfortunately, all her shirts are way too small. It’s the breastfeeding boobs, man.
And, speaking of clothes, the washer is seemingly done. Must be transferred to dryer.
12:50pm – Lunch is about to be served, but we’re a hot dog short. Must restart the pan.
12:51pm – Son put enough butter in the pan for one hot dog to drown a horse. Holy crap!
12:55pm – Okay, NOW lunch is officially served.
1:00pm – Call to housing to inquire about the house-painters. Speak with a woman who didn’t know her ass from her elbow and was of no help. Called main post housing, and that lady rocked and is making a few calls to find out if we’re next. #PleaseSayYes The outside of our house is in desperate need of being painted, it is puke brown with bedazzled spots of mildew. /sexy
1:05pm – Actual words that came out of my mouth, “Baby, please stop hitting me with the fridge.” (I meant the fridge door.) Send help.
1:10pm – Sandwich made, water poured, afternoon supplements taken, orders doled out on children to finish up and clear their plates.
1:28pm – Kindergartner sneaks away from the table without finishing, the little creep. It’s a good thing he’s cute. Is it nap time yet?
1:45pm – Finished turkey sandwich and chips while nursing Baby Dude to sleep and catching up on emails. Oh, so much to do and not enough time to do it in!
2:00pm – Totally MacGyver’d a hole in the trampoline net using a spare black shoe lace. Made of win! Overheard whispers from kindergartner “Guess we’ll have to make a new secret way in now.” #OhNoYouDi’int! {Eye daggers towards kids} Warned them to NOT create another trap door in the almost-new trampoline net again, or they owe me all their money. And cookies.
2:10pm – Opened mail, checking email, apparently killed Facebook. Damn it, I have things to accomplish before we go to my son’s nutritionist appointment at 3:30! Arghhh! Maybe I should work out instead?
2:45pm – Scratch working out, didn’t want to disturb the Dude, who’s napping like a drunk rock star.
Lucky man. Too bad his mother’s an idiot who put his outfit on backwards. #momfail
3:00pm – Getting ready to leave for nutritionist appointment for kindergartner. With all six kids in tow. and no hubby to help. Can I haz wine?
3:15pm – Corralling kids in the car should be an olympic event. However, I don’t think I’d win the gold. My toddler would screw up my chances with her whiny need to climb over the seats after my repeated, Rain Man-esque yelling at her to get in so I could buckle her.
3:30pm – Arrive at appointment by the skin of my teeth, only to be in an enclosed office with the nutritionist while they turn on T.V. for my kids. Doesn’t that sort-of defeat the purpose of what they’re trying to teach? #nutritionistfail
4:15pm – I never thought I’d ever say it, but thank god Baby Dude pooped, or we might not’ve ever gotten out of there. 45 minutes of the same discussions over and over, and we’re finally out of that office. I was falling asleep.
4:30pm – Home in time to catch the neighborhood kids wreaking havoc on our toys while the lawn people are trying to mow. Lovely. Make a mad dash to clean up the toys just in time for them to hit our yard.
4:38pm – Hubby calls. I’m barely able to talk while I wrangle children into finishing cleaning the yard and getting out of their way, and getting children to listen to me the first time (a common occurrence in this house as of late). Dryer restarted. Update given on the appointment. Try to block out hearing about how wonderful Fort Bragg is in comparison to this hell we live in. One more year ’til we’re back to civilization again.
4:45pm – Recall Baby Dude not liking the vacuum? Amplify that by 1000 with a mower.
4:45pm – 5:30pm – Catching up online, consoling Baby Dude, fetching drinks.
5:30pm – Starting dinner – chicken sandwiches, tater tots, peas. A little at a time it thaws in the microwave before getting put on a Pampered Chef stone and into the oven. My husband calls, and I vent a little about how these past few days haven’t gone well (at all). I don’t feel better about venting, only worse.
6:00pm – Oldest decides to dress the two youngest up in Princess dresses. Baby Sis is Cinderella, Baby Dude is Belle. I would’ve taken a picture, but things were beeping at me in the kitchen.
6:05pm – Two older kids go outside, and the house grows quiet. Deafeningly quiet. I call to my oldest, looking for the two princess-dressed kids. They escaped. Outside. In costume. @#*$(&@#
6:10pm – Proceed to lay into my children about helping me with the two little ones while I finish up cooking instead of being oblivious to my need for help. They promised their dad they would be big helpers, and today there hasn’t been much.
I glance at the clock and sink my head into my shoulders. It’s only been two days and so much is going wrong already, and it isn’t going to get better. I feel defeated, ashamed. I feel overwhelmed, and depressed. I just want to go to bed, but I don’t want another horrible day to come. I just want to go to sleep and wake up in three weeks.
6:31pm – Thank goodness for my nerve pill and Peace & Calming. Rescue Remedy rocks, too. Unicorns and rainbows, people. Carry on.
6:45pm – Dinner is served. Kids are criticizing they weren’t expecting chicken sandwiches and nuggets, they thought we were having nachos. Geez.
7:00pm – Words I never thought I’d hear myself say “Eat your chicken nuggets and tots or no walk later.” Did I seriously have to bribe my child with exercise to get her to eat chicken nuggets and tater tots? Holy cow!
7:30pm – I stupidly decide to start the oven’s self-clean option, not recalling we might go for a walk. Contemplate briefly whether it’s safe or not. We go for it.
8:30pm – Come home to cranky toddlers who pooped and need changing, lazy school-agers who don’t want to make lunches, do chores, or admit they have school tomorrow, and a stinky, almost-clean oven.
9:10pm – Baby Dude is boobed to sleep. Baby Sis is whining about eating a “Chocolate O-Bar” (granola bar) when she has a couple chicken nuggets left. She didn’t get a nap today, so she is a down right bear.
9:20pm – Annnnd, she’s out.
9:26pm – Oldest son tattles on kindergartner, that he didn’t take a bath yet. {growls}
9:43pm – Kindergartner emerges dressed for bed after his late bath. Perhaps now I can work out? Or maybe, just call it a night early after getting no sleep last night…
(Onto Day 3)
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