So yesterday, Chad was working again on a big project that can only be done on the weekends. That means that he's working 7 days a week right now and has for 21 days-- except when it poured on Labor Day-- which was such a blessing for our dry ground and ME! So because he's working daily, he comes home in the evening and places his booty on the couch, and he'll help when asked, but his brain doesn't think like a mom, it thinks like a man who wants to put his feet up after working for 21 days!
Anyway, in case you didn't know, being a mom is THE best thing in the whole world, but it's also the most constant thing- there is no time out or off the clock. Even if they're at home and I'm at Target, I'm shopping for them and then rushing home to feed someone. It may be my job, but it's relentless- middle of the night, early morning, after bedtime-- doesn't matter, I can't tell them "Sorry boys, I've done all I'm doing, my work is over for the day." For some reason, they don't comply with that....
So yesterday, day 21, while at work, Chad got this text message, verbatim:
"You need to pray for me- Max has peed in his high chair, peed on himself at church, peed in the car seat, then once I put him down for a nap, he pooped in his pants. Jack has pooped up his back, cried incessantly and won't nap. I have been sweating since I woke up from running around and trying to manage these two and this is all on a really crappy night's sleep. I've had to walk outside twice and scream. And the week starts again tomorrow. You especially should pray that you're not a single father by the time you get home and please don't call me to discuss this, you can do more good praying."
Yep, it was a long message, and there weren't any cuss words in it, but there were floating around my brain, that is for sure. And I'm sure Chad was picking up what I was putting down. After that, Max wet his bed AGAIN, and I actually had to go lay with him to get him to fall asleep. His nap is supposed to be from 1p - 4p and he didn't even fall asleep until 4:30. And then it was time for Jack to wake up at 5p. So after the longest day of my life, I only had 30 minutes to myself, in which time I had to clean the kitchen, pick up the house, put away laundry, and wash bottles and pump pieces. AGH!
I'm not sure why Max had all the accidents- the one at church was because I forgot to tell his teacher that he was potty trained (probably because I had just hauled Max, Jack in his car seat, a diaper bag, and a ream of paper for the games I was playing with the middle schoolers across the blazing hot parking lot, took it all into the bathroom to Max could potty, stripped him down, while holding Jack, let him potty, then got him dressed again, and by the time I got both boys into their classrooms, I literally had sweat running down my back and my legs... so naturally I had a mom-fail and forgot to mention the undies to the teacher.) The teachers put a diaper on him until they could track me down (I didn't bring a change of clothes in, although I had one in the car, because he had never had an accident anywhere else before) and so when I took him out to the parking lot in the middle of church for his change of clothes, he just cried "I want to wear dis!" talking about the diaper. AND I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs- YOU HAVE NO IDEA! YOU THINK I'M ENJOYING THIS KID? Luckily, I held back, but I guarantee you that I wanted to put him in diapers once and for all and let him figure it out on his own in 10-15 years! But I think that led to the afternoon debacle too-- he had a minor relapse testing me to see if I too would give him a diaper like his teachers had.
(Side note: My friend Anna has a friend that I don't know who tweeted this last week:
"I'm willing to bet potty training is harder than ANY corporate job. And if there's some business man or engineer who wants to take me up on this bet- be my guest!" And all I've got to say to that is AMEN!)
Yesterday, it was all I could do not to curl up in the fetal position until further notice or runaway without a forwarding address. Instead, the world, my little world, kept on moving- babies needed their mama, and I mustered up enough something to squeak by until bed time.
You know, it's funny, I was the best mom ever, in my brain, until I actually became a mom. And being a mom was very glamorous then too. I realize now that my expectations were seriously demented-- but I also didn't get all the great wonderful parts either. And there are lots of them- plenty to outweigh this kind of day for sure. Enough to make me want more children, even in the midst of a day like this. And more love and some word way bigger than love that hasn't been invented yet, but that will only apply to the way a mother feels about her kids, than you can shake a stick at.
And when all else fails, there's humor. A lot of humor, especially with a two year old. I ended my very long day, full of all kinds of trouble and trying moments, with this picture:
The pump was set up on my bed for my nightly 10pm pumping session and I walked in my room and found him just like this. He was very proud when I looked at me and said, "Look mom! I pumping milk for baby Jack!"
And so I went to bed loving life, loving being a mom. The day had been redeemed by my favorite two year old in the whole world :)