Do you know those liquid golden sunshine days when everything is good and simple and easy? You hug your babes in tight and whisper into the ear while breathing in their sweet baby goodness.
Yeah, today was NOT one of those days. It was at least 47 miles and three continents and an entire bag of Doritos away from that kind of day.
IT'S HARD. Life. Mothering. EVERYTHING. And then sometimes HILARIOUS because it's so hard --but not until much much later. Like- it really SHOULDN'T be THIS hard. And WHY is it this hard anyway? Tiny little people who need to eat and poop and play and get bathed sounds incredibly simple to my ears. But it's hard. Did I mention that part yet? So hard that you constantly and INAPPROPRIATELY use CAPS so people know you are YELLING about how HARD it is.
I read today that breathing is the bodies number one priority. The good part is our body does it all on its own, but sometimes we get in the way of how things are SUPPOSED to go. We forget to breathe. I realized I was forgetting right now. First, let's remember to breathe together right now.
Deep breath in.
And out with a WHOOSH.
(I'm serious. You have to do it too. I'm doing it and I don't want to look like a fool. I want to hear your whoosh).
Deep breath in.
Okay, so today was hot. Crazy hot. If I was practicing grateful -today I would have been so happy that we have air conditioning. However, I wasn't. I was annoyed that it was so hot that even my underwear was sweating. And I didn't want to do anything but watch Lifetime Movies in the air conditioning. And kids HATE doing that apparently. And as I begin this post at 7:14pm it is still 102 degrees. Michael is out of town. I can hear my boys laughing and playing outside with the sitter and life is good again. But just hours earlier it was too much. The boys were swimming in the pool. Parker wanted out and Grey wanted to stay in. I stripped Parker of his trunks and let him run around in the yard nudie style. And then he pooped. And was holding it in his hand. And the flies and the heat and just- yuck. So I scooped him up holding him as far from my body as I could so the rapidly vapor-creating poo didn't get on me. But I couldn't leave Grey in the pool so I called for him to come inside. "Time to get out Grey", I said nicely for the first 337 times. By time number 387 time I was homicidal. "GET INSIDE", Screamed the demonic Mommy Monster. "NOWWWWW!!!!!" I would have called the cops if I had heard me. Or called for an Exorcist. Next scene- wet foot prints, filthy kitchen floor, stinky three year old in the kitchen sink. "All I do is clean" I muttered angrily under my breath.
Everything finally got put in its place-ish- or at least things were sanitary and we went outside because we thought we heard one of the trash trucks. (We have three- Recycle, Trash and Green Waste (Frank). We waited for the truck, and Parker wouldn't stay anywhere near our yard. Further and further down the street he went. And Grey was going the opposite way (always). "Let's go inside and wait for Frank" were my last words as I scooped up both kids who were screaming and crying that we had to go in. I get us all inside and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair is wet with sweat and extremely frizzy and curly in places and bone straight in others. The ridiculous amount of makeup I tried on this morning at Sephora made me look like a scary melty clown whore. I've already been feeling terrible about myself and this just added to it. Last week I went with my friend Annie to get a pedicure. She brought her baby Sawyer and I was loving on him.
"That your grand baby?" The woman doing my nails asked.
"My what?" I ask slowly, extremely confused. Obviously I misheard her.
"Your grand baby?"
"My grand baby? NO." I say sternly. "That's my friend's baby."
The reality fully hit me. "YOU THINK I'M A GRANDMA?"
"My Mom your age and have 7 grand babies. She 50."
"YOU THINK I'M 50? And a grandmother?" I say with eyes saucer wide.
"No- I say you a grand mom because you so loving with baby. It compliment."
"HOLD ON. You think I'm 50? I'm only 40. I'm not 50. I'm 40. I'm NOT a grandmother"
"No, you look good for your age. It compliment." She squished her whole face into a plastic smile and nodded up and down.
"Yes, I look good for FIFTY the age you think I am. Which I am NOT. I am 40 so I look terrible for my age. NOT COMPLIMENT."
We went back and forth like that a few rounds. Since then I've asked 763 people if I look like I'm 50. I tell random strangers in line at the grocery store in the hopes that they will make me feel better. They lie and say I don't look 50 so clearly they can't be trusted in the first place.
So this afternoon we went back outside and caught the tail end of the Recycle truck.
We ran after him and played outside for a little bit while we all got increasingly hot and cranky.
By 3pm Frank still wasn't here- he texted me to let me know he was running late. We couldn't do it any longer. I told him we were all going inside to take a nap. God must have known I meant business because all three of us napped and that hardly EVER happens.
And just like that- I woke up and my day was reset. I looked over the pictures from above and suddenly even the poop story from this afternoon was funny. I love when that happens. People talk about how great an EASY button would be- but I'm perfectly fine with a reset one. And maybe one more button that reminds me to breath too.
And next time you are having a wicked bad day- just remember you are certainly not alone.
We're here too.
PS- I've lost the blogspot! Don't worry- your old book marks will still work though. Now it's easier to remember.
Wow, what a day. So thankful it was reset for you.ReplyDelete
I love this line "Tiny little people who need to eat and poop and play and get bathed sounds incredibly simple to my ears. " When you put it that way, it does sound simple! Yet it is so NOT! You are sure right about that.
And the part about asking nicely (and in my case usually there is no acknowledgement) until you seriously scream. Luckily doesn't happen very often, but I know exactly what you mean.
Totally identify with this post. Which also had me laughing out loud because it really is so ridiculous. The things you never hear about prior to being a parent....
Love reading what you write!
Chrissy, thank you for being so honest, about every moment of your life. You put yourself out there, sincerely and openly, over and over again and I really appreciate it because I know these hard days. I know the yelling. I know the desire to zone out and disappear from parenting responsibilities. I know, very well, how important a 'reset' is. I'm so happy you found yours yesterday, and I pray you find it each and every time you need it. Thanks so much for sharing you heart. Please keep writing! I'll keep reading. Love to you!ReplyDelete
Did not mean to delete! Message was "Thank you so very much! You are a real blessing to me!"ReplyDelete
Thanks for your eloquent honesty and 'real' (you still make real look good ya know) - we too have had some serious adventures with poop lately!! that feeling of horror and panic as its all happening so fast yet somehow in slow motion and you don't know whether to secure the child attempting to escape the room or clean the poop or grab the lysol wipes or just sit down and cry/laugh like a crazy person! Thanks for sharing! I often stop by your blog when I'm having the tough days and its uncanny how there is always something you've written that gives me a 'me too' or some much needed perspective, or a reminder of the really good stuff, and now, a funny story about poop I can relate to! Here's to the reset button! :) Love Lottie x
Oh, friend. Nail salons are dangerous places! Did I tell you the story of when I went to the nail salon with my good friend and when we walked in the owner asked me "Is that your mom?" and pointed to my friend. I was horrified and quickly tried to fix it. I feel ya on this one. Glad you found your reset button. I'm constantly trying to hit that button, too. Love you.ReplyDelete
Ummmmm...I'm not sure where my comment went. Will check back later.ReplyDelete
Ok, guess I have to re-write.ReplyDelete
I laughed out loud at this post, Chrissy. My GOD, I love you. The poop....the screaming mommy (oh been there)....the scary melty clown face (I've seen that in my mirror!)....the nail salon and the reset. Yes. XOXOXO
This is one of my faves of yours, although I think I say that every time. :)
Michelle (Your Key Holder...or Key Giver. I can't remember which but there were keys and i looked into your beautiful eyes (which look 25 years old, tops) and had a special moment).
Nail Salons! Twice they have asked me if I'm pregnant. Both times they spent the full pedicure time insisting I really DON'T look pregnant, and they only asked because I'm so thin and NOT-PREGNANT LOOKING. The conversations were as relaxing as you can imagine.ReplyDelete
I read your story at the nail salon to my husband because it was so unbelievable that anyone would say that to anyone! He said "what does she look like?" So I scrolled down to the first pic of you and he said "she doesn't look 40 or 50, maybe 30!" And he is a very honest and blunt person :). And I agree!ReplyDelete
i.love.this.post. Nailed it, once again. I so appreciate your honestly and humor--and can so easily relate to your experiences.ReplyDelete
I came across your blog a long time ago and read along for quite a while and then life got busy and I stepped away for a while. I recently came across your blog again and have come back to reading regularly and it's different. I feel like your tone and perspective are different...in a good way. You seem more positive, more grateful, more peaceful and yet, more determined. I mean all of this as a compliment and I really enjoy your words--thank you for sharing.
Resets moments are the best!ReplyDelete
Had a few days recently where I struggled to find ours- thanks for the reminder they can be there even when we don't know how to find them:)
Nice blog,, i'm very enjoyed to visit this site. have a nice day :DReplyDelete