No, this, THIS almost-5 year old and almost-2 year old wrangling event that has been going on here was not cake. There have been good moments, yes. Some feet kicked up, smooshed together on the couch watching Monsters University or sitting at the dinner table being polite and grateful. Charlie stepped up to the plate and helped load the car, carry dishes to the sink, made sure Cook didn't run away (because she tried - and I empathized with her). Alice wanted to sit on my lap and brush my hair and was a chatterbox.
However, the operations of a small household, two small children, 3 large piles of laundry, 1 anxious dog, soccer practice, getting myself to work fully dressed and showered, packing lunches, remembering share toys, putting shoes on, taking stickers off are non-stop when your partner isn't there to step in. Or carry the load.
Rich carries the load. I'm the Vice President to his Chief Operating Officer of our Home and Kids. He's got this thing nailed. Did I mention he's really, really patient with the kids? The way I lost my shit today with yelling, eye rolling and empty threats demoted me to mail room of our Home and Kids. I plan to turn in my self assessment in 21 hours. Maybe 45 hours - after I've decompressed.
Some of the more challenging moments in no particular order:
- Alice learned how to climb out of her crib for the first time. Just came walking out into the living room like she owned the joint.
- Alice created a poop Picasso in her crib Saturday during nap time. In her crib, on the sheets, her stuffed animals and on herself. I cried. Really hard.
- Charlie was in a bad mood this morning and slammed the bathroom door. Alice's fingers were in that door.
- I hit my head, hard, on the corner of the bathroom counter as I was coming up from cleaning candy corn vomit from the floor. Vomit that I didn't know was there but that ants knew was there. I cried. Really hard.
- We have ants.
- Alice drew all over the living room wall in purple crayon. I left it.
- There's a neighborhood cat that continues to shit in my driveway. This morning, as I was loading the kids in the car, I stepped in it.
- Charlie learned the word "testicles" and has decided to use it in public.
While this may read as a whiny rant from a tired woman with no real right to complain, it isn't. It's a love letter to my husband. Come home, babe. Come home.
Below are some photos from the past 89 hours. No editing, no captions. Just life.