Staying at home is a whole different survival story than my working with kid days. Both equally hard and exhausting.
I survive the week thanks to Mother's Day Out. Oh, how I could kiss those MDO teachers' feet.
But getting to and from MDO is like a marathon in itself.
Like this morning for example. I'll tell you as I drink my three hour old, cold coffee. Yes, that cup I couldn't locate in the morning mayhem. The one that took me twenty minutes to locate tucked behind a picture frame on the bookshelf.
Rewind to this morning -
My eyes pop open at 7:50 am. I feel like a sardine. Why can't I move? Oh yes. I am the white stuff of an oreo smashed together by Hattie and Ham. I remember when she woke up, but where did he come from?
Ham rolls over and says the first of thirty "It's time to get up." He is my personal alarm clock. He's really the boss of me in general. Or at least it seems that way anyway.
I roll out of bed and leave Hattie. She could use some sleep ....someone should enjoy a sleep in.
8:10 am - Then I take three sips of my coffee while kind of sitting down briefly and then I realize I didn't wash Ham's school shirt and I throw my coffee down, run to the washer, realize I did wash it and throw it in dryer. Is there time for it to dry?
8:15 am - Then I sit down for one more sip of the coffee and I realize Hattie is up. Do I have time to feed her or should I wait until after I drop him off? After it is. I start to change her clothes and diaper. I hear a voice from the kitchen.
"I need a wittle more syrup" Ham says. I have every intention of getting that for him but I am lost in trying to figure out where I put the diapers I just bought while worrying that Hattie will pee all over her bed during my rush to find them.
And I pass Ham in the kitchen and gasp. "I got the syrup" he says. Oh, and did he. He is covered in syrup from head to toe. Literally, the plate is overflowing with syrup that he is drinking. Two thoughts cross my mind - juvenile diabetes and we can't reuse his socks from yesterday because they have syrup all over them.
I see a meltdown forming on his face. Is this the kid that refused to wear socks, and is now refusing to go WITHOUT socks? I can't keep up.
I find some socks and he starts complaining about them. But that's okay because I throw his shoes on in record speed and I begin the conga dance. Yep, that's what I did to distract him from the idea that he HATES those socks. I invent a conga dance to make him forget all about it and head to the door. Because now it's 8:45 am and we are so close to being really late. The conga dance is going great till he face plants in the living room.
8:50 am - There is no time for tears in this morning rush, so I scoop him up. I locate Hattie who has rolled under the coffee table. Put her in the carrier and head out the door. Surprisingly, Ham insists on helping me carry the baby carrier. And what mom of the year refuses her three year old's kind offer. I didn't. So I'm half wobbling like a troll while I allow Ham to help me carry the carrier down the steps and to the car.
8:55 am - I speed around the corner pull up at MDO looking like I haven't had time to run a brush through my hair, put my contacts in or change my clothes from yesterday and I hand over my child. They've seen me in a worse state I know. Like the time, I forgot to re-button my shirt after nursing Hattie minutes before I picked Ham up from school. I'm thankful that all the teachers, including the entire carpool line ignored what I didn't realize I was showing.
So yes, I'm a sitting at home mom now. But trust me it's never a dull moment.
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