galavanting through meadows of wildflowers...
rainbows and glitter.
Let me reassure you if you are out there nodding your head and saying, "yep...she's Little Suzie Sunshine on steroids!"
I don't blog about the bad stuff much...
but I have hard days just like everyone else.
Today was just such an occasion.
Actually, yesterday was too.
I blame July 4th festivities, fireworks for 5 days straight, and that anniversary thing I blogged about yesterday.
What does such a day look like, you ask?
it typically starts pre-dawn with either a small girl whispering something about being awake,
a small boy flinging my bedroom door open so that it whacks into the wall creating a small sonic boom.
Thus, I sit STRAIGHT up from a dead sleep with an adrenaline rush which would allow me superpowers, if I weren't still half asleep.
After mumbling something about "go downstairs... I'm coming" and "no... it's not time for bela (eating) yet."
I roll out of bed and pout about how many other kids (and my first 4) would sleep till at least 7am every day.
If I was pro-active and made coffee the night before, I silently thank my forethought and planning, call myself a mothering genius, and crisis is sometimes avoided at this point.
I make coffee, with or without forgetting how many scoops I've already added to the filter, or prematurely dumping one half INTO the filter, half out of the coffeemaker and all over the counter. This does not improve my morning.
I try to convince the littles to play in the playroom, but instead they want to play "try to bug the crap out of mom first thing in the morning by opening and slamming the french doors".
I hate that game.
I try to drink the first cup of coffee with the news, but then recoil in grouchiness as I give in to Little Einsteins ("Little SkySize"). They clap along. I refill.
Breakfast on a bad day typically consists of me scanning the fridge and pantry for something fast, something they will eat and stay full for more than half an hour, and something I feel like preparing... while the baby boy is fussing, crying, whining and otherwise expressing his desire to eat. Now.
"Bela!!! BEEEELAAAAA!! Mommy, too unry (hungry), Mommy ees bela teyime?"
Well then, cereal it is.
"Cheerials" as they are known... poured, milked and served.
I snag the tv back to the news and try to enjoy a tiny slice of silence(ish).
On a bad day, funny stuff isn't funny.
On a bad day, cute kids aren't adorable.
On a bad day, kids laughing means trouble and all my parenting skills are all tested by each and every tiny tattle.
I look at the clock... crap. How can it be only 9am?!?!?
Check the phone. Yep. Crap. 9am. Still.
Someone starts screaming...
now another one too.
Perfect... let's see...
I'll take "someone didn't want to share, so someone took a toy and the other one hit back?" for $1000, Alex?
Idle threats, banishment back to the playroom, ignore slammed french doors, drink more coffee.
Bigger kids wake up, normally one or two at a time...
and ask what was for breakfast.
"Don't we have any OTHER cereal?"
"What ELSE is there?"
"What did the littles eat?"
"I'm not hungry..."
So I warn:
"The kitchen is closed from 9:30-11:30. Do not think of making food during that time. Breakfast now or wait till lunch."
quickly followed by.. "NO! I DON'T know what's for lunch yet!?!"
Send majority of children outside...
revolving door phenomenon... they are back inside.
"I NEED a poss-sickle."
Oh. My. Gracious.
It's only 9:25.
Somehow, by the grace of God... I make it to Lunchtime which is the conjoined twin of Naptime.
Littles down for a nap...
Middles and Biggles threatened to find something or someone to play with or face Mt. Unfoldedlaundry, so not kidding.
Try to reset.
Computer, blog, facebook, email, chick flick, bath, more coffee, gardening, SOMETHING please pull me out of my funk!!
and then someone tip toes down stairs, faking a recently-awakened sleepy look.
"Mom... I'm awake."
Perhaps a kid show for a bit during the hottest part of the day...
perhaps I will brave the community pool...
perhaps I will do someone's hair...
Things I KNOW I will say:
"In OR out, guys!!"
"Shut the door!"
"No, no more snack! It's almost dinner time!"
"Didn't I just give you water?"
"No, no more poss-sickles."
"Tell him 'we don't hit."
"Go say 'I'm sorry'."
"You guys better clean that up..."
various taxi duties...
pajamas, teeth, potty, prayers....
but on a bad day...
Bed time might take hours.
Crying, fussing, you name it...
And of course I handle it all with
or I'm human and I slump into a heap onto the couch after a day like that and feel
of my shortcomings,
and I let myself get down.
Like REALLY down.
I think, "Wow. Mom of the year strikes again! You should start a therapy fund for these kids like NOW!"
And I feel bad...
and I put myself down a bit...
and I think of all the different ways I want to be...
the better ways to respond...
the things I can do to cut it off before it gets started down that path...
the missed opportunities to just love my kids...
and I feel worse.
Then I eat ice cream.
Then I remember...
I'm just as sinful as the kids.
and His mercies are new every morning.
Or every 5 minutes, as the case may be.