Deep Sigh
So I'm trying to make it this week with four kids and no help. Ron is in Elko working with his new recruiter out there. It started out OK. I picked Heidi up at school and took her to McDonald's. Eric, Jack, Heidi & I ate in the parking lot of the restaurant and shared some laughs. Jack was screaming about trucks around us, as if they were going to crash into us. It was a joke to him-- which was hysterical to Heidi & me. I ate a grilled chicken topped salad with less than a quarter of the gigantic dressing packet that they included and slurped down a massive Diet Coke. Before heading to the school to pick Clyde up, we grabbed a Happy Meal for him so that he wouldn't be left out. We arrived at the school, and joined the long line of cars waiting to pick up their kids. Heidi asked if she and Jack could play on the playground while we waited and I said no. She said (and I quote) "Oh yeah, because then we'd get out of line and the line would get long and you'd have to say MOVE, JACKA**!" Didn't realize I swore that much, but damned if that isn't my choice name for stupid drivers.
Alright, so fast forward to later that night-- which was actually last night. Still hadn't had a chance to work out and was starting to get really antsy. Clyde and Heidi were doing this whirlwind hyperactivity thing. They were either fighting loudly and intensely, or playing loudly and intensely. Regardless of which one they were doing, I was angry enough to inflict bodily harm upon them. Once I finally deposited them into their beds for the night, I was hoping things would get easier. They didn't. I went downstairs to try and squeeze in a quick workout before bed. Eric scooted around on the floor while Jack played with toys. Jack climbed up onto a flimsy plastic chair, which promptly fell over onto Eric's upturned face with the full weight of Jack bearing down on it. It was such a horrible end to such a horrible day that I think I cried more than Eric did. He has his first black eye, with bruises branching out across his forehead, onto his temple, and a little scabbing in the crease of his eyelid. It looks absolutely awful. Jack felt guilty and spent the next half hour gently rocking one of Heidi's baby dolls on the couch while I got ready for bed. Little did I know, I'd be waking up shortly to an even more horrendous day.
The whole thing started with the kids getting in the doorway of their school just as the tardy bell rang. It wouldn't have been so close if Clyde had listened to me the first time I told him to shut off his Playstation so we could leave. If I hadn't already been wrestling with the youngest two, I could have zipped down the stairs to shut it off myself and saved us all a lot of trouble. Anyway, after dropping them off, I had just enough time to get home, change clothes, get the little guys ready and rush off to school to volunteer in Heidi's class. This is where the first pothole in my day arrives. I realize, "oh crap, it's garbage day!" and run back inside to get the garbage ready for pick up. After loading the dumpster in record time, I attempt to pull it out to the curb. It doesn't budge. It has been pushed up to the back of the driveway, right at the base of the gutterspout and is frozen solid to the pavement. I shoved and tugged at it for a few minutes, swearing and fuming, before pouring pitchers of hot water over the tires while Jack and Eric yelled at me from their carseats. The stupid thing finally came loose and made it to the curb in time. I, however, was not in time. We got to the school about ten minutes late and Eric was out of patience with me. He squealed, squalked and wailed the whole stupid hour I spent cutting construction paper into various sized rectangles for some stupid Humpty Dumpty project while Jack terrorized him by taking away these stupid little bears I'd given Eric to play with.
When that was finally over, I found out my workout partner's daughter spent the night throwing up, so I wasn't training today. I took the opportunity to run to the store. Oops. It was rapidly approaching Jack's naptime, so he was in no mood to be dragged around Wal-Mart. He screamed from the cart the whole time, in chorus with a badly beaten Eric (which earned me quite a few disapproving looks) while I ran through the store. We raced back to the school to pick up Heidi, who was crying her eyes out about something so stupid that it bears explaining. A boy in her class had brought little treat bags for his birthday (which was today) and let everyone pick out a glow stick to take home. Heidi grabbed one that was pink before it was lit up. When she cracked it, it began to glow bright orange. Her life ended at that moment, and the torture of it all was so extreme that she felt the need to scream and sob the whole way home.
Once at home, I battled the screaming baby, the fussy toddler, and the emotional kindergartener for the next few hours while I tried to get some things done-- one of which was eat my lunch. With three crying children, an empty stomach, a messy house, a thousand obligations, and no patience left, I found myself in tears standing in my kitchen. It was pathetic.
After we picked up Clyde it just got worse. Everything I did seemed to go wrong. Labels I made for the lip gloss tins that we're using at Heidi's birthday party were the wrong size. I printed Heidi's report on President William H. Taft and accidentally printed it onto a sheet of labels leftover from that previous nightmare. The kids continued their fighting/frenetic marathon from the previous day. Eric wouldn't stop crying all afternoon and wouldn't take a nap. Jack spilled yogurt, milk, Strawberry-banana Juicy Juice, Hot Chocolate, M&M's, a chocolate covered cherry (which he stepped on while on the carpet), some crackers, and he somehow managed to turn a piece of bread into a five foot in diameter mess of fine breadcrumbs in the hallway at the top of the stairs. I think there was more, but I have this frightening ability to sub-consciously block out some of the more stressful parts of my day.
Oh, did you know that hard boiled eggs (if left on the stove while one helps one's daughter finish a report on a president, and must reprint said document because the first draft is printed on a sheet of mailing labels that are immediately stuck all over two kids who use them as a bizarre game of "tag" that ends in punching yelling and crying) can explode? I was not aware of that fact until today.
After cleaning up stinky burned egg pieces from ALL OVER my kitchen, I tried to finish making the whole wheat pita bread that I had planned to eat egg salad in. I managed to knock a can of Diet Coke over, spilling it across the counter where eight little balls of whole wheat pita dough were resting. Eric was crying again (real tears this time), Jack woke up from his nap crying (because I was yelling at Clyde and Heidi), Clyde and Heidi were both crying because they'd fought (one was hurt in the fight and the other was punished for it). Needless to say, I started crying too. It was chaos.
Anyway, there's a lot more that happened during the day, but so much of it is just frustratingly simple stuff that compounded into the worst day I've had in recent memory.
I am literally praying that tomorrow goes more smoothly. Heidi will be six tomorrow, and has some really high expectations for her birthday. I hope she isn't expecting too much. She is bringing pink iced Krispy Kreme donuts and little tiny packets of wildflower seeds for everyone in her class, then going to Famous Dave's for her birthday dinner, followed by cake and ice cream with Uncle Owen & Aunt Maki (who might come to dinner with us if their schedule allows). The real fun comes on Saturday at her big pink birthday bash. I'll have pictures and details on that later. I'm too tired right now. Eric is sleeping in my lap while I type, resting up against my chest and drooling. Jack is running around upstairs alone, which terrifies me. I don't know what I'll find when I get up there.
Love to all, pictures are still with the photo lab.
Alright, so fast forward to later that night-- which was actually last night. Still hadn't had a chance to work out and was starting to get really antsy. Clyde and Heidi were doing this whirlwind hyperactivity thing. They were either fighting loudly and intensely, or playing loudly and intensely. Regardless of which one they were doing, I was angry enough to inflict bodily harm upon them. Once I finally deposited them into their beds for the night, I was hoping things would get easier. They didn't. I went downstairs to try and squeeze in a quick workout before bed. Eric scooted around on the floor while Jack played with toys. Jack climbed up onto a flimsy plastic chair, which promptly fell over onto Eric's upturned face with the full weight of Jack bearing down on it. It was such a horrible end to such a horrible day that I think I cried more than Eric did. He has his first black eye, with bruises branching out across his forehead, onto his temple, and a little scabbing in the crease of his eyelid. It looks absolutely awful. Jack felt guilty and spent the next half hour gently rocking one of Heidi's baby dolls on the couch while I got ready for bed. Little did I know, I'd be waking up shortly to an even more horrendous day.
The whole thing started with the kids getting in the doorway of their school just as the tardy bell rang. It wouldn't have been so close if Clyde had listened to me the first time I told him to shut off his Playstation so we could leave. If I hadn't already been wrestling with the youngest two, I could have zipped down the stairs to shut it off myself and saved us all a lot of trouble. Anyway, after dropping them off, I had just enough time to get home, change clothes, get the little guys ready and rush off to school to volunteer in Heidi's class. This is where the first pothole in my day arrives. I realize, "oh crap, it's garbage day!" and run back inside to get the garbage ready for pick up. After loading the dumpster in record time, I attempt to pull it out to the curb. It doesn't budge. It has been pushed up to the back of the driveway, right at the base of the gutterspout and is frozen solid to the pavement. I shoved and tugged at it for a few minutes, swearing and fuming, before pouring pitchers of hot water over the tires while Jack and Eric yelled at me from their carseats. The stupid thing finally came loose and made it to the curb in time. I, however, was not in time. We got to the school about ten minutes late and Eric was out of patience with me. He squealed, squalked and wailed the whole stupid hour I spent cutting construction paper into various sized rectangles for some stupid Humpty Dumpty project while Jack terrorized him by taking away these stupid little bears I'd given Eric to play with.
When that was finally over, I found out my workout partner's daughter spent the night throwing up, so I wasn't training today. I took the opportunity to run to the store. Oops. It was rapidly approaching Jack's naptime, so he was in no mood to be dragged around Wal-Mart. He screamed from the cart the whole time, in chorus with a badly beaten Eric (which earned me quite a few disapproving looks) while I ran through the store. We raced back to the school to pick up Heidi, who was crying her eyes out about something so stupid that it bears explaining. A boy in her class had brought little treat bags for his birthday (which was today) and let everyone pick out a glow stick to take home. Heidi grabbed one that was pink before it was lit up. When she cracked it, it began to glow bright orange. Her life ended at that moment, and the torture of it all was so extreme that she felt the need to scream and sob the whole way home.
Once at home, I battled the screaming baby, the fussy toddler, and the emotional kindergartener for the next few hours while I tried to get some things done-- one of which was eat my lunch. With three crying children, an empty stomach, a messy house, a thousand obligations, and no patience left, I found myself in tears standing in my kitchen. It was pathetic.
After we picked up Clyde it just got worse. Everything I did seemed to go wrong. Labels I made for the lip gloss tins that we're using at Heidi's birthday party were the wrong size. I printed Heidi's report on President William H. Taft and accidentally printed it onto a sheet of labels leftover from that previous nightmare. The kids continued their fighting/frenetic marathon from the previous day. Eric wouldn't stop crying all afternoon and wouldn't take a nap. Jack spilled yogurt, milk, Strawberry-banana Juicy Juice, Hot Chocolate, M&M's, a chocolate covered cherry (which he stepped on while on the carpet), some crackers, and he somehow managed to turn a piece of bread into a five foot in diameter mess of fine breadcrumbs in the hallway at the top of the stairs. I think there was more, but I have this frightening ability to sub-consciously block out some of the more stressful parts of my day.
Oh, did you know that hard boiled eggs (if left on the stove while one helps one's daughter finish a report on a president, and must reprint said document because the first draft is printed on a sheet of mailing labels that are immediately stuck all over two kids who use them as a bizarre game of "tag" that ends in punching yelling and crying) can explode? I was not aware of that fact until today.
After cleaning up stinky burned egg pieces from ALL OVER my kitchen, I tried to finish making the whole wheat pita bread that I had planned to eat egg salad in. I managed to knock a can of Diet Coke over, spilling it across the counter where eight little balls of whole wheat pita dough were resting. Eric was crying again (real tears this time), Jack woke up from his nap crying (because I was yelling at Clyde and Heidi), Clyde and Heidi were both crying because they'd fought (one was hurt in the fight and the other was punished for it). Needless to say, I started crying too. It was chaos.
Anyway, there's a lot more that happened during the day, but so much of it is just frustratingly simple stuff that compounded into the worst day I've had in recent memory.
I am literally praying that tomorrow goes more smoothly. Heidi will be six tomorrow, and has some really high expectations for her birthday. I hope she isn't expecting too much. She is bringing pink iced Krispy Kreme donuts and little tiny packets of wildflower seeds for everyone in her class, then going to Famous Dave's for her birthday dinner, followed by cake and ice cream with Uncle Owen & Aunt Maki (who might come to dinner with us if their schedule allows). The real fun comes on Saturday at her big pink birthday bash. I'll have pictures and details on that later. I'm too tired right now. Eric is sleeping in my lap while I type, resting up against my chest and drooling. Jack is running around upstairs alone, which terrifies me. I don't know what I'll find when I get up there.
Love to all, pictures are still with the photo lab.
posted by Caitlin Whitaker at 9:46 PM
2 Comments:
My dear daughter, you'll get through this. If it doesn't kill you, it will make you stranger. :-)
Oh, Cait! ((hug))
It'll be fine - you'll see - and keep posting. It's hilarious and sweet to read about your adventures.
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