...especially on days like today.
Here we are, mid-November, and the truth has finally hit me - this stay-at-home deal is tough. And I only do it 3 out of 5 days a week...and 2 of my 4 children are in school...and my husband is a teacher which means earlier tap outs for me. For those that run this freak show every day with more than two ankle biters and either are single parents or your husbands work past 3pm, you deserve a medal. A big medal. Or, at the very least, an hour to yourself at Target with a venti caramel macchiato, add extra whip.
First, I've got a four-year-old whose brain, I swear, reloads every night in his slumber to fire off a thousand new rounds of questions that I simply cannot answer, such as:
*How much does God weigh?
*Why did Satan decide to become the King of Lies?
*How did Daly know how to eat from your arm when he was first cut from your belly?
{...so perhaps we stretch the truth to avoid difficult conversations...don't judge}
Right now, we're working on wiping ourselves {him wiping himself, obviously}. And that's a lot of fun. And since he doesn't have his older brothers to follow around, I'm IT. Oh sure, he'd watch Jake and the Neverland Pirates all day long and conquer every world on Lego Star Wars if I would let him. Which, ahem, I never do...
And then I've got this amazing little newborn, who has miraculously survived five months in our house, that obviously needs a lot of attention. He's in the stage where he wants to be held but also wants to wiggle which just ends up frustrating us both. {And even better right now with double ear infection.} He tolerates his Bumbo/bouncer/jumper a whopping three minutes {total!} until he realizes that I'm in the kitchen trying to prepare/cook/clean up breakfast/lunch/dinner. Or maybe trying to switch the 17th load of laundry. Or, {gasp!}, trying to use the potty!
Honestly, when I worked full-time, I often thought that being home had to be easier. Now I'm eating my thoughts {because I'm certain I was never dumb enough to actually articulate such words} and realizing that both are hard. They're just different 'hards.'
Seriously, though. There are some days that I run to my teeny-tiny master bath {it's really hard to even label it master, it is THAT tiny...and that has a door that doesn't properly lock so I have to hold shut while Dayne sticks his hands under to try and reach me...sigh} and wonder what on earth I was thinking when I willingly traded in my cute black heels for these flannel penguin pajama pants. I feel totally inadequate of pulling this gig off. But, by the grace of God {and Dove chocolate}, I'll figure it out. Because it's worth it. These little guys are totally worth it. Even when I invoke nap time and immediately become 'Worstest Mommy Ever!'
Aw, really? You've got a grown man's IQ and 'Worstest Mommy Ever' is the best that you can do? Mommy's a little disappointed....
