To preface: Our oldest has become a serious electronic addict. Anywhere we go and everything we do she asks, "Can I play on your phone?" "Can I play Wii?" "When can I get on the laptop?" It's all gotten a bit out of hand. Especially once sharing the games and speaking politely when interrupted from a game became an issue. So, I made the leap into the No Electronics camp today. It is not something I intend to do everyday forever, but it's what's right for us for now...I hope... This blog is a satirical little something that came from a small glimpse into a typical day here beneath the cedars.
Have you ever wanted to be the worst Mommy ever? Do you wake up in the morning and say to yourself, "Today is a good day to torture my offspring!" If so, please follow these step-by-step instructions and you too will be The Worst Mommy.
Step 1: Wake up. Think about coffee. About hot black coffee in a hefty mug. Now, roll over into a puddle of someone else's urine. Forget about coffee. Get out of bed, pull pee-soaked, screaming, angry child out of your bed. Strip bed, yourself, and tiny, angry human. Wash all, thoroughly. Think about coffee again.
Step 2: Brew coffee. Make breakfast for still angry but now whining and brooding tiny human. Pour coffee in mug. Inhale rich aroma. Hold breath and listen intently to shrill squeals of toddler which somehow slept soundly through entire urine ordeal but has most certainly awoken due to the sound of your impending relaxation. Think long and hard about ignoring said squeals. Sigh and set down coffee.
Step 3: Retrieve toddler. Wrestle toddler out of pajamas and wet diaper. Get in a little morning cardio chasing naked toddler throughout house. Feel the burn while attempting to diaper toddler that is now spinning like a crocodile that's just taken down a gazelle. Finish diapering toddler. Lay on the ground and attempt recovery whilst toddler uses your mid section like a trampoline. Recover enough to make toddler breakfast. Tiny human is now hungry (again?) as well. Notice 3/4 of tiny human's breakfast remains untouched and now unrecognizably soggy. Debate running, screaming from the house. Make tiny human snack. Make toddler snack because...toddler. Remember coffee. Pick up now tepid to ice cold beverage. Chug like the beer your now need more than coffee.
Step 4: Choose clothes for children. Listen to tiny human cry about the summer dress you rudely forbade her to wear...in February. Lay on toddler. Attempt to wrangle toddler into tights. Decide to never EVER buy tights for toddler again (tights are stupid and absolutely impossible to force onto someone who has adamantly decided to become a nudist...which you are now fine with). Throw tights away. No one needs that in their life. Decide toddler looks fine in disheveled hand-me-downs. At least you got them on. Turn back to tiny human, still crying over sundress. Make idle threats. Raise voice, which has somehow stayed at a reasonable decibel until this point. Feel instantly guilty at your horrible parenting mistake. Calmly dress tiny human in appropriately warm winter attire. Never hear the end of the torment you're subjecting her to. Usher children into bathroom to brush teeth and hair. Spend 45 minutes in this attempt. Leave with at least half of these tasks incomplete.
Step 5: Leave the house. (This should take no less than 40 minutes.) Make sure to forget Blankie. Turn back for Blankie. And also a snack because...toddler. Yell as Goldfish fly throughout the backseat. Feel guiltier. You are the Worst Mom. Grit teeth in self-loathing. Smile at children in parking lot of grocery store. Apologize for your short temper. Gently touch tiny human's soft cheek and tell her how much you adore her. Take tiny human out of carseat. Immediately field questions about what she may or may not buy at store. "No candy. No donuts. No ice cream. No. Stop it. We aren't even in the store yet!!!" Grab tiny human by the hand. Go around car to retrieve toddler who is now spitting half-chewed goldfish all over her hand-me-downs. Don't even bother to brush them off because...toddler. Dodge swinging hands and feet as toddler angrily protests being unbuckled. Wrestle toddler into grocery cart. Frantically search for tiny human. Realize after 2 heart-stopping seconds, she's behind you. Go into store.
Step 6: *One horrendously long and torturous hour later* Leave store with two crying children. Decide to entitle today: "Grounding Your Child From Electronics- A Guide To Masochism" or "Your Four-Year-Old Can PMS- Right Along With You!" Vow to never ever shop again. Everyone can just starve from this point on. Wrestle children back into car. Blare Frozen at 11 until home. Stew in guilt entire ride as Elsa serenades you in the great wisdom of Let It Go. Take deep cleansing breaths. Decide to start fresh. Smile and act jovial while unloading groceries and children. Experience small heart attack while toddler runs into street. Drop groceries. Chase after and restrain toddler. Carry wriggling, screaming toddler halfway to house. Drop toddler. Curse avidly. Pick up toddler along with wailing tiny human. Listen as tiny human professes great truths such as, "This is the WORST DAY!!!" and "You're ALWAYS mad at us!" Revel in feelings of failure and inadequacy.
Step 7: Place children safely in house, making sure to secure toddler in high chair. Wonder if straps and buckles will be enough. Hear honking from parking lot. Notice neighbor's driveway is blocked by spilled groceries. Kindly wave and apologize while stooping to pick up said groceries. Feel holes being drilled in back as neighbor glares angrily. Hurriedly fill both arms to breaking point with roughly 30 bags. Slam trunk with leg. Congratulate self on flexibility and ingenuity. Hear screams from house. Hustle into house without mistake or injury. Drop all 30 bags in doorway in time to catch toddler hurling herself off of kitchen counter as tiny human cowers in fear for her sister's life. Collapse onto floor in relief. Realize you are now sitting in a puddle of almond milk. Think heartily about running from the building.
Step 8: Clean up milk. Cook lunch while simultaneously corralling kamikaze toddler, comforting over-tired tiny human, and putting away what groceries have survived. Feed everyone lunch. Or suggest they eat. (They don't really eat...) Usher everyone upstairs. Listen as tiny human cries about not being allowed screen time and toddler screams and chucks stuffed animals in protest of nap time. Remain strong in today's No Video Games rule. Walk away feeling defeated as screams grow in volume and intensity. Seriously question parenting, sanity, and life as a whole. Sit down amid piles of laundry with the firm knowledge that you are the Worst Mommy Ever.
Step 9: *Two gloriously peaceful nap time hours later* Start all over again with a renewed perspective and patience as fresh as the laundry you've just now finished folding. You might be the Worst Mommy, but you're quite certain you're the best at it.
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