found this from about 4 years ago. apparently if I'd had a blog, this would have been an entry:
I must admit, I've come a long way. When you become a single mother of two, something as small as getting yourself and 2 children under the age of 3 out the door each day can seem like the Wall of China stands between you and the small successes like getting to work on time. How big is the Wall of China? I don't know. I wish my daughter wouldn't ask me that every time she sees a small stone landscape border or a guard rail. But I digress.
Having a 9-month hold whom you must feed and dress...and entertain while you feed and clothe yourself, along with a 2 1/2 year old and a dying Chihuahua...it's amazing I got out of bed all those days and conquered the day. Which is precisely what it felt like - conquering, defeating, prevailing. Getting up at 5:45 a.m., getting all of us cleaned, brushed, dressed, and fed....getting to the day care with no one accidentally left at home, and remembering favorite blankies, bottles, diaper bags, and my own purse...whew. Thank God for bouncer seats and baby gates. That's all I have to say.
So yes, I've come a long way. Now my daughter is 6 1/2, and dresses herself each morning without much prodding. My 4 year old son is capable of dressing himself, but must be cajoled, bargained with, and otherwise manipulated or tricked into doing it for himself. A new Chihuahua pup is now underfoot - and constantly dragging the kids' toys and clothes across the floor, creating shrieks of delight as they chase her and rescue each cherished item. And I am constantly coaching, checking progress, cheering, prodding, nagging them along.
It was Friday morning, our 5th morning in a row together, heading into a long weekend (not always the relaxing, rejuvenating time it's cracked up to be when you are a single mom) and another week together. We're running late. Why wouldn't we be? I'm hurriedly passing out everyone's breakfast food and drink of choice, telling my daughter to PLEASE feed the dog unless she wants her to starve and die. My son calls out from the bathroom, "MOMMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYY."
"What Noah?"
"You ran out of toilet paper." I halt in my tracks. I know I just put a new spool in their bathroom 2 days ago. I go racing up the stairs to find him sliding off the pot, grinning in a matter of fact "what brings you here?" sort of way. And the toilet paper is, in fact, empty. Because damn near all of it is piled into the toilet.
"NOAH!!!! WHY did you do this? You KNOW you only need to use 4 squares!! Did you even poop?"
"Nope." And with that, he turns and flushes the toilet. It makes a sputtering sort of noise like my lawnmower when it has about 1/4 cup of gasoline in it. It immediately clogs and he flushes it again before I can find a way to function verbally or physically. The toilet paper is going nowhere.
"Forget it!" I snap at him. "I'll deal with this later. We HAVE to eat buddy!"
I race back down the stairs and there is her Highness. Nala, the feisty, crazy Chihuahua, standing in my chair with her front paws on the table, lapping up my cereal like she earned it. Like I don't need it. Like I'm not frazzled as hell already, suffering from reactive hypoglycemia andneeding SOMETHING ANYTHING in my body ASAP so I can find the energy to start the day.
"NALA!!!!!!!!!!" I scream and she hops down, cowers under the table. The kids scream with excitement that someone besides them is getting me in all my glory. Danielle pipes up, "You haven't even yelled at me yet today."
Thud.
Having a 9-month hold whom you must feed and dress...and entertain while you feed and clothe yourself, along with a 2 1/2 year old and a dying Chihuahua...it's amazing I got out of bed all those days and conquered the day. Which is precisely what it felt like - conquering, defeating, prevailing. Getting up at 5:45 a.m., getting all of us cleaned, brushed, dressed, and fed....getting to the day care with no one accidentally left at home, and remembering favorite blankies, bottles, diaper bags, and my own purse...whew. Thank God for bouncer seats and baby gates. That's all I have to say.
So yes, I've come a long way. Now my daughter is 6 1/2, and dresses herself each morning without much prodding. My 4 year old son is capable of dressing himself, but must be cajoled, bargained with, and otherwise manipulated or tricked into doing it for himself. A new Chihuahua pup is now underfoot - and constantly dragging the kids' toys and clothes across the floor, creating shrieks of delight as they chase her and rescue each cherished item. And I am constantly coaching, checking progress, cheering, prodding, nagging them along.
It was Friday morning, our 5th morning in a row together, heading into a long weekend (not always the relaxing, rejuvenating time it's cracked up to be when you are a single mom) and another week together. We're running late. Why wouldn't we be? I'm hurriedly passing out everyone's breakfast food and drink of choice, telling my daughter to PLEASE feed the dog unless she wants her to starve and die. My son calls out from the bathroom, "MOMMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYY."
"What Noah?"
"You ran out of toilet paper." I halt in my tracks. I know I just put a new spool in their bathroom 2 days ago. I go racing up the stairs to find him sliding off the pot, grinning in a matter of fact "what brings you here?" sort of way. And the toilet paper is, in fact, empty. Because damn near all of it is piled into the toilet.
"NOAH!!!! WHY did you do this? You KNOW you only need to use 4 squares!! Did you even poop?"
"Nope." And with that, he turns and flushes the toilet. It makes a sputtering sort of noise like my lawnmower when it has about 1/4 cup of gasoline in it. It immediately clogs and he flushes it again before I can find a way to function verbally or physically. The toilet paper is going nowhere.
"Forget it!" I snap at him. "I'll deal with this later. We HAVE to eat buddy!"
I race back down the stairs and there is her Highness. Nala, the feisty, crazy Chihuahua, standing in my chair with her front paws on the table, lapping up my cereal like she earned it. Like I don't need it. Like I'm not frazzled as hell already, suffering from reactive hypoglycemia andneeding SOMETHING ANYTHING in my body ASAP so I can find the energy to start the day.
"NALA!!!!!!!!!!" I scream and she hops down, cowers under the table. The kids scream with excitement that someone besides them is getting me in all my glory. Danielle pipes up, "You haven't even yelled at me yet today."
Thud.
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