Today was a crazy day to say the least. The theme of the day was “Life is a highway!” I kissed the kids and hubby goodbye at 7:30am and left for work. My 9am meeting finished just in time for me to leave work and race back down the highway to my 11am doctor’s appointment. (I have a 55 min drive to/from work and my doctor’s appointment had been rescheduled for the third time so 11am it was!) My doctor’s appointment finished just in time for me to race back up the highway for my 1pm meeting. Needless to say, by my drive home (and my fourth hour-long drive of the day) I was stressed and exhausted.
As I navigated my way through rush-hour traffic, I daydreamed of a hot bubble bath, alone and in silence. My daydream was quickly interrupted by Hubby calling to ask what I was thinking about for dinner. I was not thinking about dinner. I hadn’t thought about dinner. My brain had given up on today and didn’t feel like evaluating what was in my fridge and freezer and then creating a meal plan. Pizza. Today is pizza day! Amen. I will let it slide that this was supposed to be hubby’s night to make dinner to take a little pressure off of my crazy day. Everyone wins with pizza.
Mr. C, who will be 2 in 3 days was a feisty little man tonight. Apparently he boycotted naptime today and man, did it show. He refused to eat his pizza so I tried to offer some leftover pasta and meatballs instead. He quickly threw the plate of pasta across the kitchen in a fit of rage because I stopped him from stealing his sister’s dinner. The nerve of me, I know.. Timeouts do not phase this boy. In fact, he welcomes them in a “Bring it on!” sort of way. I suppose he feels the crime is worth the time.
While Mr. C sat facing the wall reflecting on his actions, I started a bath for our sauce-covered toddlers while preheating the oven to make cupcakes for Mr. C to bring to daycare for his birthday. I paused and stared at the running water in the tub. I felt overwhelmed with stress. I could feel the blood rushing through my veins. I think that evenings like this are the hardest as a working mama. The nights when you are vibrating from the day’s events and desperately need to unwind and relax but can’t because your babies haven’t seen their mommy all day and they need you. I took a deep breath and then ran back upstairs where I paced around the kitchen singing songs, trying to act normal as the kids ate their blueberries and yogurt for dessert.
I started to mix the cupcake batter only to discover that I was out of vegetable oil. Damn. When hubby returned to the kitchen from the garage, I told him I had to run out. And off I went to the only place I know where I can be alone and collect my thoughts; the grocery store. Not only did I grab vegetable oil but eggs and homogenized milk too. Badass, I know. I forced myself to walk slower through the aisles to get my brain to settle down.
I arrived home 15 minutes later to find that Hubby was bathing the beasts. As I unpacked my loot, Hubby asked if I could throw down a plastic bag. That can’t be good. As I did, my 2 soaking wet, naked toddlers came giggling up the stairs as Hubby explained they had been evacuated since Mr. C took a huge poop in the tub.
We diapered and dressed them in pajamas and settled down on the couch to catch an episode of Dora the Explorer before bed. As the credits rolled up, I excitedly jumped up and announced that it was bedtime. Two reluctant toddlers wandered up the stairs. Mr. C stopped mid-way and turned around towards the living room and said “Bye Couch!” which was easily the weirdest yet cutest thing I had heard all day.
We went upstairs and climbed into the big recliner in Mr. C’s room to start our bedtime routine. It was Mr. C’s turn to choose the first book for story time. He happily chose Dr. Suess’ ABC book. This has been a favourite this week. Tonight I couldn’t do it. I was beyond exhausted. There was no way I could wrap my tongue around the words in a Dr. Suess book tonight. Reading a Dr. Suess book while delirious is like trying to deliver the state of the Union address while intoxicated and half-blind. The slurring, the stumbling over words, the tongue-twisters. What the hell is a “Zizzer-Zazzer-Zuzz” anyway? Hubby took the reading shift tonight. Beyond on the “read to” side of things is pretty awesome, I must say.
Both kids were snuggled into my lap. As Hubby read to us, Mr. C lifted his sippy cup, turned to Miss M and said “Cheers!” and they clinked (well clunked, because of the plastic) their cups together. Hilarious. Hubby clearly delivered Dr. Suess’ AbC book with excellence. I have never had my bedtime stories toasted.
Mr. C seemed more like himself after his big bathtub poop. I kissed him on his cheek over and over making him laugh hysterically. He laughed so hard that he coughed. He coughed so hard that he threw up. All over me. Fortunately, Miss M jumped down so she was out of his range. He was scared. He had never thrown up before and it just kept coming.
This is something that I have learned about motherhood. As mothers, we have this incredible ability to not only put our wants and needs aside, but to make them completely non-existent in order to better nurture and protect our children. Seeing how afraid my little man was, I pulled him closer to me and whispered comforting words to him, completely oblivious to my vomit-covered self. Until he finally stopped and I looked up at Hubby who was frozen and looked like he might puke. And then I started to smell it as the smell filled the room and thought I might puke too.
I stripped Mr. C down and then stripped myself down and Hubby and I started cleaning up the enormous amount of vomit that had come from such a tiny man. Blueberry puke and beige microfibre chair. What a delightful combination. Miss M insisted on helping us clean up which made Mr. C want to clean up too. Why fight it?” Once the vomit was picked up, I handed them a box of wipes to clean the floor before I washed it while I started a shower to deal with the puke in my hair and down my entire body while Hubby grabbed the Little Green Machine (aka my hero and best friend) and tackled the blueberry puke-covered microfibre recliner.
I ended up trading in my hot bubblebath in silence for a lukewarm shower due to the almost 2 year old bathing at my feet. As I turned to grab some soap to clean up my little boy, I realized that we didn’t have any baby soap in the shower. I took a risk and used a bit of my soap on his little body. I’m not an overly religious person but as I scrubbed him clean, I closed my eyes and prayed that he would not get a rash from my soap and that today would be the end of today’s madness.
At this point, all I needed was a laugh. Not a laugh so hard that I coughed and then puked but a good, hardy laugh. My prayers were answered as Mr. C and I got out of the shower to find Miss M skipping around wearing my underwear overtop of her one-piece pajamas with the sides pulled up over her shoulders like a 1980s aerobics bodysuit. What a kid! (And no, the underwear were not clean. Siiigh…never a dull (or clean) moment!)
Andbabymakes3imean4 is one mom’s adventures while tap-dancing on the brink of insanity with 2 babies, 11 months apart. If you liked this post, please subscribe or like my page on facebook to read more! Thanks for reading! Xo