Note: This was originally written on December 10, 2014. I never intended to share this story publicly, however, I recently realized that I no longer possess any shame regarding my homemaking/motherhood struggles. The truth is - I struggle often; the struggles are ridiculous; and quite frankly, I’m okay with people laughing at my expense.
I live in this vicious cycle of staying up too late and regretting it every morning. I typically like to stay up to simply unwind from the normal shenanigans of the day – like overflowing toilets.
Or stay up to unwind from fighting with my daily arch nemesis, the room of terror, my kitchen. I did NOT dirty all those dishes, family!
But don’t fret my loves, I’ll get to unclogging the toilet and doing those dishes right after I:
1. Nurse the baby.
2. Prepare meals.
3. Homeschool 2 rambunctious Kindergarten age boys.
4. Do some laundry (or at least attempt to).
5. Catch up on my statistics homework.
6. Write Thank You’s for a baptism and two birthday parties.
7. Christmas shop for EVERYONE on our family’s list.
All while being a single parent for a few days as my husband travels for work… and attempting whatever else needs to be accomplished around here.
I’ll leave the toilet for Redeford, my very patient husband. He won’t scream and throw a toddler tantrum like I’ve been doing for the last 30 minutes because the poop water keeps overflowing out of the toilet bowl, onto the bathroom floor, and dripping down into an unused dog crate, located in our basement storage space. No, he’s a sane person who married a crazy person, who is also fully capable of fixing the darn toilet without so much as one obscenity – they say opposites attract. So, since the plunger will not work, and my calves are hurting from jumping up and down in toddler rage style, it’s time to shut the bathroom door and pretend the problem doesn’t exist. Maybe I should get a bucket for the basement to prevent a poop water flood.
I’ll go do the dishes… hmmm… I’m trying to remember how many times I’ve attempted to fill and then run the dishwasher over last few days. No idea.
The baby cries.
While I sit here and nurse the baby I’m going to write this blog post and try to decide which single-serve bottle of wine (or 2) will go best with my double quarter pounder with cheese, that my understanding husband is bringing home because I can’t, in good conscience, make dinner in my train wreck of a kitchen, especially after being splattered by poop water, while trying to work my sweet skills with the plunger. For hygienic reasons, a shower should be had but the baby doesn’t have any interest in detaching from my boob. I’m glad my boobs were covered when I was plunging.
While baby gets her fill, I’m also going to refrain from completely beating myself up because the only homeschool subject we successfully got through today was phonics. I guess I’ll subscribe to that home education philosophy which emphasizes learning to read as the most important in Kindergarten. What is that philosophy? Classical maybe? Sure, we’ll go with that.
As baby nurse-sleeps, I have to ignore the bedding that’s been in the washer and dryer since yesterday. Maybe I should’ve ignored the baby vomit and the remnants of a diaper explosion on my freshly washed sheets? It was just one little area – a towel would’ve covered it just fine.
As I put my boob away after this half hour nursing session, I’ll laugh at myself for buying into the third time is a charm b.s., regarding the completion of an online statistics course. Ha. Ha.
As I lay down baby and yell at the older 3 to be quiet, I’ll make a mental note that the Thank You’s still need written. It’s been 3 months! Get with it already.
Walking out of my bedroom, where baby’s cradle is, I’ll pass by the $50 in Kohl’s cash that I forgot to use. Christmas shopping is fun until you forget to spend free money that you earned from spending hundreds on coordinating outfits for an overdue family photo session. Dangit.
And finally, I’ll walk down the hall, pass by the
room of terror kitchen and be reminded that it will be another late night because those dishes will not do themselves and it would be horrifying to have the kitchen in that state when the sitter comes tomorrow.
Oh yes, the sitter comes tomorrow.
Finally I might be able to sit down and Google how to unclog the toilet since the plunger is failing…
But then I hear, “Mom! I didn’t make it to the toilet!” I hear this from my master bedroom/bathroom area of the house. Where I just put a sleeping baby down for a nap. That’s 2 out of 2 bathrooms out of commission here. I guess everyone can pee outside at this point, afterall, it is dark by 6:30 p.m. in these parts. On cue, I hear a crying baby.
I begin wondering how late I’ll need to stay up tonight in an effort to unwind.
Maybe tonight I’ll just drink until I pass out.
Meanwhile, my super awesome husband has come and gone to the hardware store to buy a de-clogging toilet contraption. He gets back and after a while of me hearing clashing and splashing from the bathroom he asks, “Honey, I was wondering while I was driving, why didn’t you just shut the water off to the toilet?”