Wednesday, September 2, 2009
There are things about this motherhood gig I do not, nor will I ever, understand. For instance, why is it that children refuse to go to bed on time, yet also refuse to let you sleep in the next morning? It is as if they have some stockpile of energy they plug into at every possible interval. But, do we parents get even a hit of this elusive magic potion? No. Take, for instance, my oldest. A new kindergartner, he is eager to start each day (at least until it is actually time for him to drag his tired carcass from beneath his sheets).
Each night, it's the same routine. Shower, brush teeth, read books, bed. Then in 10 minute intervals for the following hour, he putters down the hall for another hug, another question, another complaint, another demand. Which usually means he hits the actual sack around 8:30 instead of 7:30 as intended. That makes it all the more boggling that I felt his morning breath on my face at 4 a.m., startling me awake as he, whispering, asked, "Mommy, when am I getting up?"
HUH? An hour after sending him back to bed, his voice came moaning across the hall again. "Mommy? Mommy!? MOMMY!!!??" I stumbled into his room, stepping on legos in the process, only to find he wanted me to cover him up with the blanket lying right next to him. Instead of asking why he wasn't covering himself up, I sleepily covered him, kissed him, cursed the legos under my breath and stumbled back to bed.
So, that's how it all began. Throughout the day I fielded phone calls from clients and child care providers, held my screaming child while he received three booster shots and wrestled with my 5 year old over what socks he was going to wear to school.
Today has been a unique day, not to mention the half-naked child I chased through the house in the course of potty training. He thought it was fun. All I could think about was the potential for mess and disaster should he suddenly get the "inkling for tinkling."
Sad to say, the highlight of my no-shower no-workout little-rest day was the fact that Beau did, indeed, pee pee in the potty. What does that say about my life?
Oh, well. At least for now, the two cherubs are sleeping in their beds, resting up for another day of interesting challenges (mostly for Mommy). I keep reminding myself that one day I will laugh about all of this. I will. But not tonight. Tonight I will sit my unexercised unwashed and unrested bottom on my double chair and watch mindless television. And I will love every selfish minute of it. That is, until J.T. comes in and asks for water. Again.