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There is a moral to this story but I'm too tired to figure it out

2010 January 13
by Pamela

I was really cranky tonight. Impatient, nervous, doubtful, did I mention impatient and cranky? We had a playdate over here, one with a dear friend who could care less if the house is trashed. But I care, and I was stressed out with trying to straighten it while having a clingy baby attached to my leg.

Elizabeth has been a pain for three days and four nights, but who’s counting? She needs to be carried around every waking minute and whines inconsolably if the wind blows in a northeast direction at 6 mph. Seriously, I don’t know what to do with her. She is sick and I am doing my best to love her through it but unfortunately we still need to eat. Which means I need to cook. With two hands, minus 23.7 lbs. on my hip.

These are the days when I just wish that I could sit on the couch all day and hold her. I know that would make her the most happy and secure and frankly, after the last few nights of sleeplessness, it would make this mama happy too. But life goes on here. After just a few hours of sleep, I still managed to get breakfast done, the kids ready and out the door on time, THANK YOU GOD FOR MODERN DAY MIRACLES. Mary Claire went to preschool and Elizabeth to my Mom’s house. I had two hours to get my housecleaning done and dinner prepped.

I was trying Day 1 of the FlyLady routine and was relieved that it was going well, considering the sleep deprivation and stress. I was able to do her one hour weekly cleaning routine, mostly, and only 20 minutes over-schedule. Bob offered to pick up the girls and I saw my opportunity to take a shower, my first shower in two days, in the house alone.


In the shower I thanked God for how good I was feeling despite the lack of sleep stretching four nights now. I thanked God for how alert I was, how much housework I got done, the fact that dinner was in the crockpot and my floors were sparkling.

And then I lathered up my hair with a whole dollop of extra-moisturizing (read: greasy) body wash.

Apparently I wasn’t as alert as I thought I was. The body wash did not lather at all in my already oily hair. I tried to rinse it out the best I could, to no avail. So after ten minutes of this I ended up in the family room, dripping wet, googling: remove extra-moisturizing body wash from hair naturally. Result: vinegar

So at the end of my first shower in two days I came out smelling like freshly canned pickles.

I blog stories like this for two reasons: One, someday I will be old and walking around telling all the youngins to enjoy their babies while they’re little because someday they are going to miss these days. Yes, you will miss the way their eyes light up when you walk into the room, the way they love to snuggle, and maybe even how they say Mama 500,000 times in a day.

But I am going to be admonishing those there youngins on a full night’s sleep. And that makes a bit of difference if you ask me.

The second reason I blog these stories is in response to the other bit of wisdom I heard A LOT while pregnant with Mary Claire: being a mom is sometimes hard but it’s the best thing you’ll ever do.

Yes, it’s “sometimes” hard. My kids seem to go through stages – six months of bliss, six months of “why did I ever think I could be a Mom?!” But maybe-someday Moms and Moms today need to know what “sometimes” hard looks like. And I am here to tell you that when your kid just flipped his high chair table onto the floor like Jesus in the temple, you are not alone. When you say something stupid to your kid like “Duh, when you leave your Polly Pockets on the floor, the dog will eat them”, and totally regret your lack of insensitivity later, you are not alone.

This is not a place that I envision for people who hate their kids. Get a therapist right now if you do. This is a place for people who absolutely love their kids, want to be the best parents possible, but realize that they fail in some aspect every day and wonder if they are alone.

You are not.

And I have a whole gallon of vinegar if you ever need it for your hair, as well as a God who will listen should you ever want to talk.

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