This post is probably going to have spelling errors. And grammar errors. And punctuation errors. And there’s no pretty picture to go along with it, because this week, I’m housesitting for a friend who went to Africa with her husband. And not just housesitting … but I’m tending the 5 little people (i.e. children) who live in this house. That’s right. Five of them. Ranging in ages from 1 to 7. And can I just say:
Motherhood is not fun. THINKING about motherhood is fun. But the actual doing? Not so much. No don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. I’m so happy I’m here helping my friend, “mothering” her babes. But people. This is exhausting. In a way I never could have comprehended.
Today, I had a one-year-old get progressively sicker … soupy cough and runny nose. He screamed all day. Poor pumkin. I just held him and rubbed his back and tried to do what his mom would do. All the while watching the snot pile up on my shoulder as he rubbed his head back and forth on my sweater.
Speaking of snot. I touched it today. With my bare hand. It wasn’t my snot.
I also got poop on my arm (again, not mine) when the one-year-old flipped mid-tantrum/diaper change.
The four-year-old told me he was going to make mean faces at me after I put him in time out. I told him to go ahead.
There was large amounts of noise at any given moment during the day. Granted this is probably obvious to the mothers out there. But coming from a house where two adult women live, I’m not used to or accostmed to these decibels.
It’s really just non-stop, this mothering. Like, even during naptime when you think, “maybe I’ll lie down for a minute too,” the driveway needs to be shoveled and the dishes from breakfast are in the sink, or laundry needs to be folded.
Tonight Frit came over to drop off some more movies and bring the kids some treats and I sat there like the mean old mom while she got to be the favorite aunt. And speaking of movies…I don’t know what I was thinking when I said I’d never let my kids watch TV. Flushed Away was my Savior today. The 4-year-old watched it twice today (sorry, Camille).
Then, as there was a mad dash to the bathroom for teeth brushing, the 2-year-old needed help. But the one-year-old didn’t want to be put down. But I only have so many arms. So down he went. So he screamed at the top of his lungs at my feet, snot and tears streaming down his face, while I brushed the 2-year-old.
To round out the day, I cried. Yep. It’s a well-known fact that I’m much like a one-year-old. Overly tired? I cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry. Cry.
So as we’re having family scripture study, Jesus is calming the winds and waves and I start bawling cuz I just need him to calm the children. Like now.
Finally everyone was in bed. Frit was still upstairs. Essentially, I begged her to stay because I needed to talk to someone “taller than 3 feet.” So like I said…all in bed. And I plop on the couch and I curl up beside her and put my head in her lap (like the 2-year-old did to me today) and cried and cried and cried.
Oh and I almost forgot … after everyone was down and Frit had left, I was doing the dishes and I puked. All. Over. The dishes that I’d just washed. Awesome.
So. Today? Meh. Not so hot. Although we did have some successes:
- Three meals and all appointed snacks, on time.
- 3 of the five were dressed NOT in pajamas.
- I took all five to the aquarium. They loved it.
- No spilled drinks at Cafe Rio.
- Family scripture study!
And tomorrow. I get to do it all over again. :)
My hats go off to you moms. Especially you single moms. You are my heros.
On the plus side, I feel a lot less stressed having puked. Although I did find puke in my hair and on my sweater. (This time, it was mine.)