Story of my life

heydooney's Journal

Story of my life
Oct 22, 2009 at 1:23 PM
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- heydooney
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I will preface this by saying that I love my husband and I am thankful for him every second of every day, and aside from my kids he's the best thing that ever happened to me. But sometimes you just gotta bitch. It's healthy.

My sister-in-law told me she was dropping her kids off at 6:15 this morning. So I went to bed early so I could be well-rested. My husband came to bed and woke me up sometime after midnight, and read for a while. Not too big a problem, I got back to sleep ok, still had 5 hours before the alarm.

Around 3 he wakes me up blowing his nose. He doesn't just blow his nose like you or me. He honks. Loudly. He goes out in the other room, but the bedroom doesn't have a door. He might as well be honking in the bedroom. Not only that, he accidentally turns the light on in the bedroom, which he shut off right away but then he turned the light on in the outer room. Not much difference.

I could have gotten back to sleep after that, but the noise and light have woken up the baby, who promptly starts flailing and kicking happily to keep himself from drifting off again. He doesn't want to nurse or cuddle or lay down at all, he wants up.

Baby wakes up Toddler, who crawls into bed with us. It's 4 a.m. Husband goes out to sleep on the futon in the other room. Gee thanks for the support honey. Toddler starts crying because his pajamas glow in the dark and it scares him.

He's up for the day.

I stumble downstairs with the kids. Husband goes back to sleep. In the bed. By himself.

I allow this because when he doesn't get enough rest, 1) he's cranky, impatient, and moody, and 2) he is way more susceptible to illness, and I just don't want to deal with that. Not only is he the biggest baby when he's sick, I don't want him to get his germs all over the place and infect the kids. I, being the mother and wife and glue of the household, am not allowed to get sick so I just don't.

I'm out of coffee.

No, I'm not out of coffee. I have a giant bag of WHOLE BEAN coffee and no coffee grinder. Baby decides he does want to sleep after all. So as not to wake him I consider taking the blender upstairs to the outer room (you know, cause it's SOOO far away from the bedroom) and trying to grind some, but for the reason above and because I don't think it will work anyway, I don't. I also consider eating the beans with milk like a bowl of cereal but decide to just make a giant mug of hot cocoa and tell myself it's coffee.

The kids come at 6:15 and I complain to my sister-in-law. She understands. Best 5 minutes of my day so far.

Immediately, everyone goes wild. It's like they can sense my weakness and they drive a wedge in and just start hammering. I consider assigning everyone a corner as a pre-emptive measure.

I remember that I have to order a textbook for the class I have tonight. I know that if I leave four kids unsupervised they will maim each other, but I need to get it done ASAP. I decide to wake Husband. He doesn't dare complain. It's 8:45 a.m.

After the book is ordered, he acts all heroic as he does a few dishes and throws a load of laundry in the washer. I fail to grovel and award him a medal. He starts getting ready for school. At noon. His class starts at 3.

Mine is at 5. It's the first night and we are to come prepared. Every time I try to read my textbook (the one on which I spent ALL the allotted "book money" I'd set aside, forcing me to rent the other online), someone gets some part of their body smashed, bashed, cut, or stuck somewhere.

Blessedly, my sister-in-law shows up early, meaning I can now drop Husband off at school and have the car (you know, so I can get to school too). Being the wise woman I am, I throw a sandwich at Toddler to eat in the car, and diaper him. He falls asleep on the way like I knew he would. At home, I close the refrigerator door (?) and toss Toddler in bed, shoes and all.

Baby falls asleep as I type this. He will wake up as I try to lay him down so I can use the bathroom and will prevent me from napping. I decide skip the bathroom, curl up on the couch with him, and count on the bladder pain to wake me in time to drop the kids off and get to school, where hopefully I will be able to pee without someone walking in just to tell me that some daddies have beards.

I can't sleep. I remember that I have no stored breastmilk.

I wriggle out of Baby's grasp to use the restroom and realize I am wearing the same underwear as yesterday. I wonder if Sister-in-law will mind if I drop the kids off early so I can come home and shower.

I retrieve my textbook and an empty bottle and sit down on the floor, hoping to finish reading while I hand-express so Baby won't starve while I'm gone. As my knees touch the carpet, I hear Baby wake up. Now this is getting a little ridiculous.

I carry him over and hope he'll play.

He won't.

He stares perplexedly as I struggle, no doubt wondering why his milk is going into that bottle. He tries unsuccessfully to knock it out of my hand. I offer him a cracker, which he mashes into the carpet.

I stare at the meager two ounces in the bottle and make a note to try again later. My stomach growls and I realize I haven't eaten lunch. I also realize I have nothing to take with me to school to eat for dinner. I won't be home until 10:30. I wonder if Sister-in-law would mind if I dropped the kids off extra early so I can shower and then grab a bite to eat.

Tune in next time, the day is still young!