You can know anything. It's all there. You just have to find it.

-Neil Gaiman


Wednesday, April 27, 2011

SAHM (stay at home mom) or (shit! am having migraine!)

Today I read in the paper that 1 out of 4 children is raised by a single parent.

1 out of 4!


My next thought:

"Jesus.... no wonder so many adults look so damn haggard."

I'm not a single parent and I'm damn haggard.  Sometimes.  Like yesterday.

Let's break it down.

6:07 am

Sena is wailing.  And coughing.  She's been sick the past few days with a cold.

6:15 am

I lay there, hoping she'll stop.


Nope.  I get up and go downstairs and open her door.  She is sitting in her crib, her hair is tangled and stuck to her face because of all her tears and snot.  When I pick her up I realize that her eyes are crusted shut with boogers.  No, it's not pinkeye, just boogies.

I pick her up and go into the bathroom and wet a washcloth to melt the goo from her face.  More screaming.  Apparently, it's as if I'm sticking pins in her instead of making her life better by letting her see.  More snot starts flowing.

Since I don't work everyday, today is my day off and I decide (because it's going to rain all day) that I won't even bother changing her out of pajamas.  Since I don't plan to change out of my pajamas either.

This is pretty lazy of me.

Then I decide I don't care.


Matt gets up, scratches himself, sits in the bathroom doing God knows what, gets dressed, grabs the coffee I made while holding screaming, snotty Sena because she won't let me put her down, and leaves.


I go into the bathroom to wash my face and comb my hair and brush my teeth so that I don't look like a total degenerate.  It smells like a homeless person died in the toilet.  I light a match.

Sena keeps crying.

Try to feed her some breakfast, but because she's not feeling well she doesn't want to eat.  She throws chunks of toast and slimy bananas blobs onto the floor.

I eat the stuff off the floor.  Like a dog.


Briefly wonder when I can get a dog.  Figure they can't be as much work as a toddler.  I think I like those French bulldogs.


Try to play Legos, read books, wipe up snot, change diaper, do a little laundry, learn stupid facts about British Royal Weddings on the Today show, and play with Thomas and Percy on Sena's new trainset.

Also, there is more screaming.


Lunch.  I eat a liver sausage sandwich and raspberries and Sena throws more stuff on the floor.  I eat that, too.  She eats a few Cutie wedges (little tangerines) but she just sucks out the juice like a baby vampire and spits the withered husks out.


Make Sena take a nap even though she is screaming, "Nooooooooooo!!!!!"

I shut the door and she screams for 10 minutes.


Silence.  Holy Shit!  This is awesome.


Check email.  Nuthin'.  Watch 3 whole episodes of Mad Men while eating chocolate ice cream.  Fold clean clothes and pick up toys so they can be strewn about later.


Sena wakes up.  Crying.  More crying.  Normally we would go outside and play but it is still raining.  I give her a snack and something to drink because she hasn't eaten much.  She picks out the clean, folded clothes from the laundry basket and throws them on the floor.


Call Matt and ask when he's coming home.  Feel a headache coming on.


Make Sena dinner.  Avocado.  Left over mac and cheese (organic), raspberries, and milk.  Sena eats two avocado pieces, smashes raspberries on her tray with her spoon, and throws cup of milk on the floor.


Matt comes home.  I'm saved!

Seriously, that's how I feel some (most) days.  I can't imagine not getting a reprieve.  Sometimes that's all that keeps me going.  And I only have one kid. 

I am a wuss.


Susan2115 said...

I can really identify...times three. Some days I wondered if I could find time to go to the bathroom
in peace without someone wanting something.

Kelly said...

Oh my gosh, this is hilarious...I have been feeling like this everyday...Except my reprieve doesn't come through the door until about 7pm...but thankfully it is usually with a bottle of wine in hand.

Kelly said...

Oh, and I like the part about pulling out the folded clothes from the laundry basket. So true. I feel like I do every task about 3 times.