All these mistakes I’ve made…

Let’s just face it. As parents, we fail. We fail, and fail, and fail. We succeed, too, but sometimes our triumphs are marred by all these other mistakes we make. I’m not talking about like… Your kid going to Harvard vs going to prison kind of triumphs and pitfalls. I’m talking about all this day to day nonsense that just keeps coming, like an endless, angry train, threatening to collide straight into any sense of normalcy you might’ve once had.

To make you feel better, I’ve decided to share what will certainly be the downfall of my sanity. So, without further ado, my most upsetting mistakes as a parent:

1. Handing my one year old a muffin. This may seem innocent enough, but the repercussions of this mistake will be felt for years to come. When we move, many moons from now, this mistake will be felt in the stares of volunteers/loved ones, come to uproot our old life with us. They’ll stare because it will be found in our couch, in the corners of every room, and smeared somewhere that shouldn’t have been accessible to her, at a mere 30 inches tall. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll have cleaned many times since this incident, but it won’t matter. The joy of moving will have been ruined in one fell swoop. A crumby (get it?) end to an era.
2. “We probably won’t need it”. This is one mistake I make over and over and over again. You see, I’m an overpacker. And my tendency to bring everything but the kitchen sink with me means I’m also habitually ditching said stuff to be left in the car because it’s just too much to deal with. This backfires on me exactly 100% of the time. Because I do this, roughly 85% of our outings end in me losing my patience & us leaving before we should. Or end with me covered in poop. Either way, I don’t know why I keep making my own life so hellish.
3. Having a late dinner. Why, why, why? Why anyone thinks this is a good idea with children is beyond me. It starts so seemlessly. Engrossed in something else, the children will be little angels. For a time. Inevitably, when we decide it’s time to eat, our children will commence in what is likely similar to summoning demons. “Witching hour” does not do justice to the chaos & disaster that unfolds the moment a pan hits the stove. For the remainder of our cooking and eating experience, our house becomes a free-for-all, where my children turn into miniature versions of Mike Tyson circa 1997, complete with ear-biting. It’s like their one mission in life is to see if they can break their parents before they’re served what is clearly prison mush in their eyes. It will be an utter failure, and everyone will eat canned soup.
4. Taking children to my doctor’s appointment. The last time I made this mistake, I took both of my children, then 9 months (R) and 2.75 years (L), to the eye doctor with me to get contacts. Frankly, the memory has me cringing. When L wasn’t slamming into the eye checker machine thing (we’ll pretend that’s what it’s called), R was screaming. Aggressively. L became convinced that the doctor was attempting to murder me, via eyeball. R started throwing things. And in a spectacular ending to the hour that went on for years, L decided that she needed to pee, and without any sort of warning, dropped trou in the middle of the office, for everyone to see, while I only had one contact in my eye. Neat. By the time we left, I was certain I was 2 minutes from a breakdown.

 

 

The list of mistakes is long, but I have to say, these are my most painful. They may seem small, but I will carry the sorrow and regret from these experiences with me until I die.

Grocery shopping is a nightmare.

I don’t do it often, but on occasional I become so delusional that I believe I can manage grocery shopping with 2 small kids. Grocery shopping with my little heathens is clearly well outside the scope of my parenting abilities. It’s been proven to me every time I attempt it. And for some stupid reason, I keep coming back for more.

My grocery shopping experience has 4 stages:

• Over-confidence: As we pull up to the store, children smiling, sippy cups in hand, Starbucks in tow, I’m feeling pretty good. This is usually the point where I’m telling myself a number of lies, centered around the fact that past failures were just a fluke. We’re going to be just fine today. -Insert eye roll so heavy I can see my brain- As we enter the store with my list in hand, cart chock-full of small people, and hair quickly reaching homeless-level dishevelment just from the sheer effort of wrestling both kids from a car seat and into a cart, I begin seeing my flaw. This is where step two comes in.
• Errors have been made: My toddler is tearing up all the things I put in the cart, or handing them up to her baby sister to gnaw violently on, while she lets out her first of many war cries. I soon realize this is not going to work, and that said toddler will need to walk. Remember, it will be FINE. Let’s get her on the floor. “No, wait, don’t slam that man’s cart into his own shin! Please don’t run to the next aisle! Put that back on the shelf! That’s not ours, hand that back to the woman you stole it from, please! Don’t eat that off the floor! Don’t lick the floor, either! You have to go potty again?!” Why didn’t I bring a carrier? Why didn’t I foresee this? How many mistakes must I make? Why does the baby cry at the worst possible time? Great, she pooped her pants.
• F*!k this: This is about the time that I start making statements like “If you can’t be nice, we can’t get your chocolate almond milk” or “Fine, then we’re putting it all back and leaving with nothing”. This is literally the most stupid thing I’ve ever said, because anyone who knows me (my own kids included) knows I refuse to leave that store until everything I need is in my cart. I’m just not capable of walking away from work I’ve already done. So they call my bluff. Again and again and again. And I make weak threats that no one gives two sh!ts about. And then I rage-weep, and I walk through the aisles, corralling my monsters and ignoring hateful stares while L piles unnecessary crap into the cart, that I’ll eventually need to re-route to return to it’s home.
• I’m never, ever doing this again: When we get to the cart, no less than 5 hours from the time we arrived, looking broken, feeling pretty butthurt/murderous, I vow, THIS will be the end. THIS was the last straw. THIS is the lesson I needed. Now I just need to get us home in a route that bypasses anything that MIGHT sell chicken nuggets. As I do so, I convince myself that no matter how hungry we are, it can wait the 8 hours of my husband’s work shift. This IS the last time.

 

I’m not a particularly stupid person, so I rarely take my kids to the store with me if I can avoid it. But I might be a little crazy, because I keep doing the same thing and expecting different results. I’m at the point where I’m unsure if I’ll ever be able to take them into public places before they reach adulthood. It seems unlikely.

I’ve heard it before, and every time it’s been said to me, I laugh hysterically in my head at it, that if you just keep taking them out, they eventually learn to behave in public. Based on my experiences, my children level up in ridiculousness each time we pull into a Kroger parking lot. So, to those of you who look like hot messes in the grocery store… Solidarity. It’s all I have to offer. And those of you who pretend to have your crap together, please don’t judge the rest of us when we look like fools. Best wishes to my fellow parents trying not to fall apart in a Giant Eagle.

Too much to do. No time to do it.

As a stay-at-home mom, I end up with the lion’s share of the household chores, simply by default since I’m here much more frequently. To anyone without kids, chores basically look like this: clean your dishes, wash your clothes, occasionally sweep the floors. For parents, this is like a laughable list of impossible tasks. At least when your kids are small & they choose to undo everything you’ve ever accomplished in your house with a simple bowl of Cheddar Bunnies.

My chore list is ridiculous. Ridiculous in that it’s ridiculous it hasn’t given me an aneurysm yet. It goes as follows:

• Do the dishes. All 47 Replay bowls that the toddler needed for 506 different foods, all of which are less than half eaten. Oh, wait. The baby just came & spit up in the dishwasher. That’s cool, right? I mean, it’s supposed to wash the dishes anyway… Right?
• Wash, dry and fold the clothes. Except the toddler needs, NEEDS, to load the washer for you. And doesn’t know how to use laundry bags. So everything goes in together. Even the poop covered stuff, which is inevitable when you have two kids under 3. Cool. Hanging things on a drying rack is a delight when everything you hang gets ripped down 3 seconds later in a damp mess on the floor. And folding… Wow. That’s a special event. It’s not even describable how disastrous folding can be with two small kids in tow.
• Take the dog out. Clean the cat litter box. Feed the animals, don’t forget the fish. Why did I sign on the keep track of so many people that aren’t myself? Why am I in charge of no less than FOUR small creatures & their feces? Have kids, they say. Get pets, they say. It’ll all be so rewarding. Except they leave out the part where no less than half your day is figuring out whose poop this is, and why it’s in the living room floor, and why everyone smaller than you gets a larger share of the food budget than you do. Rude.
• Sweep and mop the floors. 900 times a day. Because all 47 of those Replay bowls you just put in the dishwasher were spilled on the floor prior to their journey to the kitchen sink/counter. How anyone with toddlers, us included, aren’t host to at least 5 different types of rodent is nothing short of a miracle.
• Clean every other area of the house. Except that once I finish cleaning the same crap over and over all day, there isn’t any time to clean anything else. Unless I never sleep.

The point is… Stay in the main living area of my house. I’m not honestly sure I’m even getting anything done. This could be some sort of mind game the house & kids are playing on me to see how long they can run me into the ground before I crack. That’s fine, I guess.

Mornings at our house.

I’ll be the first to say I’m NOT a morning person. Neither is my husband. We’ve clearly passed this down to our kids. Honestly, happy people in the morning make us all a bit stabby.

Mornings are normally kind of frustrating for all of us, because we’re all just kind of passing the pissy mood back & forth. Most mornings, I rush out of bed to get R fed, because she’s always the first to rise. She likes to make sure L wakes up with her, so I have to get some liquid happiness into her before she gets a chance. I’ve gotten this morning exchange kind of down to a science. I change her while she’s eating because I don’t have it in me to wrestle my alligator baby first thing in the morning. But before I even bother, the coffee maker is started. I have priorities, y’all.

Our morning is likely not “typical”, because as well as hating mornings, we also hate breakfast. Unless it’s in liquid, caffeinated form. Lately, once L is awake & I’ve had my first cup of energy, I’ve taken to pulling what I’ve dubbed a “smoothie kit”(which is just frozen fruits and veggies already cut up & frozen together in a bag) out of the freezer in the mornings, whipping up a quick smoothie for us, and then we all sit around, pissy & waiting for daylight to become acceptable to us.

It should be mentioned that we’re LATE risers. Like 10-11am. All of us. It stems from when B used to work nights and we kept really weird hours. Now we just can’t shake it. For the most part, it’s nice. Except that in the “normal” mom world, playdates start at 9am, and we aren’t even cleaned up until after “lunchtime”, which is more like breakfast/smoothie time for us. I really don’t have it in me to adjust our whole life for that, though.

When the girls finally get up the energy/tolerance to play, I hang out on the floor until we’re ready to extend our bubble to the outside world. If we’re doing something, it usually doesn’t happen until 2pm, because I don’t really have my $#!& together the way I should. By the time we’re all clean, dressed, and human, morning has long since passed. Even then, none of us are super dedicated to the idea of being around other people, but we manage enough to be normal citizens for awhile.

Maybe it’s not that we aren’t morning people, but that we aren’t daytime people. I’m beginning to think we did better at this whole thing when we were halfway to nocturnal.

Activities with small children.

We’ve passed around cold after nasty cold this spring, resulting in a ton of time indoors when it would’ve been lovely to get out & see the world. We’re finally on the upswing of a particularly nasty bout of plague, so today, my husband’s day off, we decided to get out & do something fun.

We frequent the zoo (our zoo is one of the best in the country), and we basically live at our local science center, but today called for something new & special. My bright idea was mini golf, and since we have a Games & Golf fun center nearby, we decided that was as good an activity as any. It was a lovely 75 degrees, sunny with a slight breeze, so the perfect day for it.

We loaded up and headed there. We popped the 10 month old in the baby carrier on my back, paid for our golf, grabbed our golf balls and putters, and headed out. Fun hopefully to ensue.

L, at 2.5, has never played mini golf. We have high hopes that she’ll find the idea interesting, and at first, she watches intently, taking our golf balls with her on a journey far past par. She delights in walking up to the hole and plopping her ball in. We think we’re doing okay. Two holes in, a mother and elementary school age kid are behind us, so we decide to let them pass us by. Mistake #1 is made. That’s given L the time to entirely abandon the idea of playing the game. She’s now just running around the greens, standing in the way of our potential holes-in-one. This turns into her spinning in circles, swinging her club around. Thankfully for my shin, it only connected with a plastic toddler club.

When we finally come to the end of our 9-hole game, having long since abandoned the idea of asking her if she’d like to take a turn, we convince L to drop her ball in the final hole. This particularly course has a final hole that feeds your ball into some dark abyss beneath the green, never again to be seen by tiny toddlers. L is not impressed. Luckily, there are arcade games inside to buy us time before we hit our first tantrum. Thankfully, R has ridden happily the entire time on my back, and has barely made a peep, so we have this on our side.

When we’re done with our games, we cash in our tickets for a $.05 fairy wand at the counter. Big win in a toddler day. Not so much for the parents who will be responsible for refereeing the fight to come over who gets to play with said fairy wand…

We had a fun day, if not a bit aimless. But that’s kind of the name of the game when you have small kids. They will inevitably find fun in everything but the intended activity, which is fine, especially when you consider how nice it was to feel some fresh air on our faces, and watch her spinning around in the sunlight, and had zero tantrums the whole time. I’d call that a pretty successful day on the books.

 

Mom groups FTW.

If you’re a mom (or a dad) on Facebook, chances are, you’re part of one. These groups of seemingly put-together, all-knowing, been there done that, types of parents can be really daunting. In this modern world where everyone has an intimate view into your life and your parenting choices — like… On a blog — being judged feels like a constant pressure.

These mom groups can be difficult to maneuver when you’re figuring out where you belong. And frankly, some of them are not going to be a good fit for you, maybe even downright BAD for you. But if you keep looking for your niche to fall into, mom groups can become your best asset as a growing parent. It’s okay to ditch the others. Maybe even good.

As a member of many (too many?) mom groups, and creator of my own group, I know how quickly things can turn from seemingly innocent discussion to WWIII, because mama bears will attack. But I can say with complete and total honesty, I would be an entirely different parent if I hadn’t joined the Facebook group scene. I was introduced to cloth diapering, home births and intactivism via various local mom groups. I met some of my good friends in them, and reconnected with some people I knew in school but hadn’t really known. I found guidance, I gave advice, and I struggled alongside other parents who had similar lifestyles.

I found out just how much it can mean to have a virtual stranger say “I’ve been there” and really understand in a way that the real figures in my life just couldn’t. I rallied behind moms like me when they needed someone to understand.

In the isolated world of parenting, I found a place where I could be real, instead of putting on a brave face for the “outsiders” that I occasionally saw in my real life. The amount of weight that lifts when you no longer have to respond with a smile & a “we’re fine” is life changing in such a small, but huge, way.

When you find a group where you can be a flawed and struggling parent, and still be seen as strong and amazing, you’ll know you’ve found a good place.

You’ll know when you find yourself wanting to tell these people all your joys and all your pains. You’ll know when you feel safe telling someone you’re failing today. It’ll be a turning point in your journey as a parent. Because in a way, you’ll be stronger and better for having found them & they’ll be better for having received you into their world.

If you’re a parent, and you haven’t found that group, I urge you to keep trying. They don’t need to be local. They don’t need to be perfect. They just need to be there when it sometimes feels like no one else will.

5 things ALL parents do.

In lieu of the normal “x things y-style parents do”, I’ve decided to be a bit more inclusive. Because as parents, we all need the daily struggles and triumphs to unite us. This is a crazy hard club to be in, and it gets even harder when you try to fit into groups and realize you may have fallen short.

So without further ado… The 5 things every parent will do before their babies grow up.

 

1. Count down to bedtime. A day with your kids is rife with triumphs and joys and reasons to smile. But sometimes, you need to countdown to bedtime. And when it finally arrives, it’s perfect okay to breathe a sigh of relief that the day has come to an end. Because with kids, things can get downright Alice in Wonderland crazy sometimes.
2. Go insane. Some days call for it. Maybe you woke up to a poop painting on the wall, or your kiddo is throwing a tantrum because you won’t let them climb the chimney, or you’re just feeling touched out. You will feel on the brink of sanity sometimes. Often (or maybe that’s me). It’s okay. Don’t sign yourself up for a padded room just yet. It’s just a small part of your life with kids. It will pass. And come again. But the important part is that it isn’t constant.
3. Fail. Every parent on the face of this earth WILL fail some days. Maybe not at an entire day. Or maybe at everything. It’s okay. If you haven’t had a day like this yet, rest assured that it will come, and you will move past it. You’ll grow stronger in your failures. It’s okay not to be the perfect parent. Your children will grow up loving you more knowing that you go through the same things as they do, and they’ll be better people as well. It’s okay to show your flaws.
4. Grow. Whether you had your kids at 18, before your life really even started, or at 40, after you’ve had many life experiences, parenting will help you grow. It’s completely different from anything you might have done before. Parenting is a hard job. A usually thankless job. It has it’s ups and downs. It can threaten to break you or lift you up in ways you never knew before. It’s a lesson in humility and patience. It forces you into being a bigger, stronger, smarter person than you may have been before children. It’s a beautiful ride, and it has some really beautiful consequences, too.
5. Love. Parenting is the ultimate test in love. You’ll love every day. At the best and worst times. You’ll love more than you knew you could. And if you have multiples, you’ll multiply that love when you weren’t sure you could. You’ll love from the time you wake up until the time you go to sleep. And while they’re sleeping and you’re staring at their little faces, you’ll be certain this love is going to smother you with it’s greatness. You’ll love your children until they’re old and gray, no matter what, because you’re a good parent, and you’re doing a great job (remember that. Even if no one is telling you, just remember that).

 

No matter whether you’re young or old, have 1 kid or 15, no matter where you come from or how you were raised, you’ll go through it all. Because it’s all just part of this crazy, maddening, amazing, beautiful journey. And when it’s all over (it’s never really over), you’ll be a better person for all of it. So when you’re having a bad day, remember to give yourself some grace, and know that everyone else is going through all the same things.

So, you had a bad day.

Today is a bad mom day. A downright shitty one. Frankly, yesterday was too, but we’re going to focus on today. Every mom in the history of ever knows what I’m talking about when I say this. I’m often sarcastic about my life, which includes the comings and goings of my children, but today, the sarcasm is absent. Because today is a day I could really use a hug. Today, for some reason, the edge is a little nearer, and I’m closer to tumbling over it.

 

Let’s start with this morning, when despite the fact that my toddler went to bed past midnight, both girls woke up at 8am, a solid 2 hours earlier than their normal. I’m still sick and running on less sleep than I really honestly need to be able to kick this. I rolled out of bed knowing that they would be in a tired, cranky funk, and that I wouldn’t have enough patience to fully deal with everything effectively. They almost immediately started crying after getting their milks. It didn’t stop for 2 hours. I have a gnarly sick voice, so they’re hearing exactly nothing I say over the din, not that it would matter.

While they cried, at me, at each other, at nothing, at everything, they trashed things. Not in the way that children normally do as they play. An angry upheaval of our home, ripping things, smashing things, tearing up anything they had enough strength to break. While I tried desperately to maintain the calm and protect our home from complete, real destruction.

The baby crawled into the kitchen while I was wiping the toddler’s butt & ate dog food. And dumped the whole cat/dog water dispenser. Tons of water, everywhere. First things first, I had to clean up the babe. Then the mess just stared at me. Laughing cruelly at me. By this point, I’m near tears. I’m wet, I’m dirty, my already barely in check anxiety is threatening to explode. I’m not handling the day well. I’ve already yelled a couple of times. Loud, raspy, hoarse yelling. Like my neighbors judging me yelling. Which I remind myself of while I’m trying not to cry. Because that seems like the best strategy for falling apart.

 

In an effort to not relive the food and water incident, I load us up to head to Walmart for a baby gate (our fifth one, which now officially closes us in completely). It’s gone from 30 degrees to 80 in a week’s time, so we’re hot and bothered because we’re not used to the temperature. Not a great start. I get to Walmart (which is 3 minutes, and less than a mile, away), and while I waited for my Starbucks, the baby fell asleep in the car seat. We switched to a convertible this week, which means I need to wake her to go in or sit in the Walmart parking lot with a toddler for an hour or more. Not happening. So I go to get us out and realize I forgot the baby carrier because this was supposed to be a 10 minute trip. Cool, now she has to sit up & she’s tired. Recipe for disaster.

We get inside and she’s tolerating it. The toddler is in the back of the seat with her treat from Starbucks, a carton of chocolate milk… My hopeful tactic for remaining calm. It fails. While gate shopping, L gleefully decides that her $2 carton of milk should be sprayed all over the shoes we just bought her 4 days ago. I want to explode because this is becoming a typical behavior. Instead, I just tell her that she’ll stop receiving treats if she’s going to use her powers for evil. 5 minutes in, and as soon as I have stuff in my cart, L has to pee. So we trot all the way to the back bathrooms because they’re the only ones I’m willing to enter. We disembark from the cart (because it’s filled with a gate & I’m not about to get accused of trying to stuff a gate down my pants… #Walmart), without a baby carrier, which means I’ll need to hold R with one arm and help L get up, wipe, get down, and wash hands with the other. We get all the way into the bathroom, and L flatly refuses to pee. She’s laughing hysterically like she’s punk’d me. After some convincing, I give up. We go back to the cart, all buckle in, and go back to shopping. Repeat this entire process two more times. Complete with her refusal to pee. But what do you do with a toddler who has a very low tolerance for holding it?

By this point, I’m sick, I’m hot, I’m tired, I’m DONE. We check out and get to the car. I get R into the car, and suddenly L has to pee again. We’re 3 minutes from home and I don’t want to completely undo a car seat just for her to “trick” me again, so I take the risk of trying to make it home. Big, horrible, stupid mistake. She pees in the car seat. The one that just has to be hand washed, and air dried. Which takes two days. And we literally just returned the spare to my mom’s house LAST NIGHT because we didn’t have the space to store it at our house.

 

We’re home now, my patience so thin it could tear apart at any moment. L is dry. R is asleep in the crib. When L asked to watch “the Boovs”, I happily turned on Home in an attempt to zone out and regroup. Which is really the only option left, because I feel screamy. And also slightly like running away. There is no sarcasm that can laugh this day away, so I’ll just count down until my husband gets home. Or until bedtime.

 

Oh… And just now, as I was proofreading this, L decided to just stand in the living room and pee her pants while watching the movie, then proceeds to tell me we don’t have a toilet, so she peed her pants. Is this day real or am I having a nightmare?

Fully in survival mode.

Me and my husband are both pretty sick this week with strep throat. I’m not a graceful patient when I’m sick, but my husband just melts into whatever bed or couch is near, and that usually means a crowbar will be necessary to excavate him from the area. Both children, however, are well. Which translates roughly to “we have all this energy to break things and kill each other and mom and dad aren’t gonna do anything about it! mwahahahahaha!!”

Right now, my 8 month old is just hanging out under the dining room table. Normally, I’d have gone to “rescue” her from a situation she doesn’t want remedied, but right now, just hang out there. I’ll throw a blanket over & you can have a fort. I’ll be over here popping DayQuil like it’s candy while you’re at it. Mommy needs this, shortstack.

My 2.5 year old is still in bed. It’s inching up on 11am, but I don’t care. I know it means by tonight that I’ll have pulled all my hair out when bedtime came and went like a leaf in the breeze, phasing no child here. But right now, I’m taking a break, before my sick patience gets tested every 3 seconds. The good news is, I have no voice, so I can’t feel guilty for yelling. Because I can’t. Even when I want to. I can’t tell if that’s a victory or defeat.

Back in the day of childless abandon, I used to grab a couple NyQuil at bedtime and pretend I was queen of my bed for ridiculous amounts of time. That is no longer an option. You see, with children, they do strange things in the night that need tended to. For example, last night, as I’m exhausted, reverting to my inner cavewoman, and snotting from basically every hole in my face, L decided to take a couple laps around the house while yelling “Mommy!!” at 330am. Totally cool. You see, if I’d been doped out on NyQuil, I’d have missed that amazing opportunity to lose more sleep than even necessary. And that’s just not going to work. R also decided to just sit straight up in her crib at 2am and try to play for an hour. Because I wake up randomly at 3am & decide to go for a bike ride. It’s a thing people do (I’m side-eyeing as hard as I’ve ever side-eyed in my life).

Now that the day is ramping up to start getting chaotic, I’m going to employ what I consider to be one of my best mom tools on a day like this: Daniel Tiger on Netflix. Because the more he sings stupid songs that I’ll know until I’m 97, the less talking/moving I have to do. Which is basically what I’m about right now… My husband is at work, so I have to figure out this sick with kids thing on my own today, which basically just means I can’t go “that’s awesome, bet Daddy would like to hear all about that!” But good ol’ DT is going to get me by. He’s my best tiger friend right now.

And coffee. Sick or not, you’ll have to pry my coffee cup from my cold, dead hands.

 

Excuse me while I convince the children that Mommy CAN actually see them through her closed eyelids. Because this plague is going to be the end of me.

Secrets.

I have a confession to make: I have a great many secrets. Secrets that keep this household from falling apart & keep me from a padded room in an asylum. Secrets that – if my toddler learned – would be devastating to our lifestyle.

 

You see… I’m guilty of hiding candy. All over the house. Not because the Easter Bunny just came & we forgot all about it or because I need a quick bribe handy. Because candy is my way to silently stick it to my kids when they’re being gremlins. “HAHA! I have candy & you’re too busy punching the refrigerator to notice!”

I also spend a lot of time in the bathroom. You might think I have an overactive digestive tract if you visited our house during the day, when the toddler is going straight insane. But really, I need a place where someone isn’t in my lap, or pulling my hair, or nudging me because they just can’t get comfortable until they’ve broken at least 6 of my ribs. I need a place where my news feed is actually scrolled by ME. With no fingers “liking” all sorts of random things or scrolling all the way to the top when I’m in the middle of an interesting read halfway down my feed. The bathroom is like my sanctuary. It’s my happy place.

I’ve also become amazing at hiding the fact that I have food in my mouth. And even talking as if I don’t have food in my mouth (when L inevitably has 762 questions as soon as I stuff my face). Because there are so many things in my kitchen that my toddler’s finicky palate just doesn’t appreciate in the way I can. I can love you better than she can, donut. Baby, I can love you better.

 

You see, these secrets are the key to me continuing to stay just a hair above sanity. They give me an out, when toddler hands and baby cries are my whole day. They give me a bit of solace on bad days & add to the vibe on the good ones. If I didn’t have secrets, I can assure you, I would be a wreck. No one person can continue the chaos that is staying home with children without having something all of their own, and with my children’s “what’s yours is mine” attitude, it’s better for everyone if these things stay hidden. If you don’t have some sort of system or happy place established, you’re seriously missing out! And clearly a superhuman.

When kids enter our lives, we give up a lot. This is just my way of grasping at the straws of my previous humanity. It’s still in there somewhere, I think. Maybe. But if the toddler becomes aware of these… all bets are off. So for now, I’ll just be munching on a pop-tart from the kitchen sink while keeping an ear out for toddler/elephant footsteps coming my way.

Got any better ideas? Didn’t think so.