A Day in the Life | Momspiration Blog | Pekin, IL

When does this mom thing get any easier? I know I am not the only one over here ripping my hair out trying to get one child to stop crying while the other takes off his diaper because he just cannot wait another moment to pretend to pee on the little potty. I knew when I left full time employment that this would be hard. I knew it would be exactly this hard.

Someone please share their moming secrets with me though. I’m starting to think I am a full-time mom but a part-time (like 0.1 FTE) wife. Most evenings I go to bed with goldfish crackers on my carpet and uneaten dinner tidbits still on water-spotted plates. I switch laundry during the night, because switching laundry during the day time seems to be a prime invitation for Clark to play in the cat litter. Gross. Now we just need to take a bath (because at some point you stop becoming an identifiable person and start becoming “we”). We do not play with cat poop. We do not splash Alanna in the bathtub, because now Alanna has dirty tub water mixed with faint traces of cat poo in her eyes. Oh great, she’s crying again. Yeah, that cat poo water probably burns a little bit.

I can’t remember the last time I slept more than 4 hours in a row.

I can’t remember where I put the car keys at.

I can’t remember where the paw patrol shoes are and heaven forbid we wear any shoes but paw patrol.

I can’t remember when I started referring to myself as “Mom” in third person when speaking to my children.

Mom doesn’t want a bite of your cracker you just took of your mouth, Clark. Mom does not want to drink your juice with the mysterious floaties in it, Clark. Mom wants to pee with the door closed, Clark.

But life continues to go on. I’m late most of the places I go because of those dreaded, disappearing car keys. I’m sporting the mom do: pony tail or high bun as high as possible so Alanna’s little death grip isn’t ripping my hair right out of my head. I’m holding two crying children through the grocery store trying to shop on a budget but I can’t even remember if I added the last item onto my total. We can only play “Where’s the bacon” so many times at the meat counter while the 20 year old with no personality at Kroger cubes my chicken breasts with knives made for kindergarteners. Why else would it possibly take so long?

We come home from the grocery trip with everyone but Mom asleep. Do I just sit here with car running and nap too? Will they fall back asleep if I take them inside? Are they going to get sunburned if we stay out here? Reality sits in… staying in the car for twenty minutes and taking a cat nap with my kids will probably lead to their inevitable skin cancer from repeated exposures without sunscreen (who puts sunscreen on their kids when they aren’t even swimming?).

I waited too long deliberating this decision. Because now it’s raining again and the pitter patter on the windows has woken the monster up. He cries immediately for Marshall and his blanket. Inside. Beyond the rain that is picking up with every minute. The monster sees his baby sister fast asleep in the car seat next to him. He chucks a cup at her, yelling, “Lanna wake up!” before I make it around the other side of the car to unbuckle him.

Thirty minutes later, two children are restlessly dozing while I try to shove groceries into any place they will fit. Those six night feedings from last night are catching up to me. I’ve still got a chance of a nap. Maybe twenty minutes.

Groceries put away. Wet shoes off. Wet clothes changed (adding to the never ending piles of laundry). Sneak into bed, head hits pillow, close eyes- waaaaaaaah. That confused cry. Alanna Renee. We’re supposed to be sleeping. Go get Alanna. Stumble because tired on the way to the living room swing. Wake Clark up cursing after stubbing my toe. Well. That was a nice idea.

Everyone is cranky now. Clark knows there’s new food pickings awaiting him in the almost clean kitchen. He decides the world will come to a crashing halt unless he has peanut butter with a baby spoon.

That’s only a small part of my day. There’s also dinner, pretending that we will one day live in a clean home. Remember how I also have a business to run? Everything seems so impossibly impossible.

And yet, life keeps going.

The goldfish in my carpet eventually get ground into very small particles where they will forever be trapped in the carpet. The dirty plates on my table will be swapped out for empty cereal bowls in the morning. The cat poo bath water will be replaced with more cat poo bath water. And I’ll be happy in some inexplicable way that I have had all of these moments with my children. I don’t like to call myself a full-time mom because we all are full-time moms. I don’t call myself a stay at home mom, because I don’t stay at home. I don’t call myself a work at home mom, because when the hell do I ever have consistent moments to work? Today I am just Mom. Today I made a house into a very messy home that faintly smells of dirty diapers and braised brussel sprouts. Today I meant the world to someone very small. Today I did something that mattered, and there’s no one on Earth who has to power to make me feel like I didn’t. No one has the ability to make me feel like my messy home, dirty faced kids and full litter box are not good enough. No one but me.

So mommas, take two minutes tonight to forgive yourself for your shortcomings. You’re not alone in this journey. And honestly, I can’t even remember the last time I washed the pants I am wearing.

 

It's been a while since I've taken a few hours to write. It's hard to find the time to: my arms and heart are equally full with 50 pounds of genuine love. My days are too short, my nights are even shorter. But it's important to remember who I am in the journey of motherhood. Stick around. Subscribe. Drink some wine from the kid's sippy cup. The only person watching is you... and I've got some stories to share.