Just Another Day (Part 1)

One of my favorite posts from 2011 was the post that simply described an ordinary day in our lives. It's so much fun to look back at that post to see what Ainsley and Durham were like at that moment in time. 

 

Click here to see the post from 2011.

 

I've decided to document another day in our lives in the hopes that a few years from now I will again look back fondly on how crazy my life is.

 

I often ask the students in my class to choose one sentence from a reading to capture the essence of the entire piece of writing. In doing a similar thing for this particular day, I've chosen the following sentence:

 

"They cry so much I'm certain they all have headaches and need their next drinks to be laced with Tylenol." 

 

Although the following sentence is a close second, only because it was said to me three times in the span of 30 minutes by three different people:

 

"You are very brave to leave the house." 

 

The day started at 4 am with Wrenn crying for a bottle. As per our usual routine we developed when Durham was a baby, both Tim and I get up. Tim makes the bottle while I change her diaper. He hands me the bottle and a burp cloth and goes back to bed. Wrenn and I get snuggled in the rocker in her bedroom for the next 40 minutes. I just don't want to put her down yet. She's just too sweet. I keep thinking she's the best baby ever, but my last baby had colick, so it's pretty easy to convince me she's the best baby ever. Any baby who doesn't scream all day would qualify as the best baby ever.





She's very good at snuggling.

After she fell back asleep, I put her gingerly and begrudgingly back into the crib and decided to continue making camp on the rocker as to avoid the commotion of Tim getting up and going to work. I fall asleep around 5 am simply because it takes me that long to catch up on all my Ruzzle games on my phone. [Oh, sweet word games.]

Soon I hear the pitter patter (read: elephant stampede) of little feet in the hallway. It is 7 am and the older two are up and ready to rock. Tim graciously leaves the television on Nick, Jr and breakfast sitting on the table when he leaves so I can concentrate on diapers and more bottles without the older two screaming requests at me.

He has to bring all his buddies out from his bed to the couch with him.

The big kids get comfortable on the couch, eating Special K poptarts and sippy cups of milk while I change Wrenn's diaper. Again. They are revving their engines to go though.

Ainsley was quite interested in all the picture taking that was going on.

Wrenn is slowly waking up and is hungry. Time to quickly change Durham's diaper before Wrenn becomes dragon-baby. Durham is amenable to this only because he wants the iPad.

"Puter? Pleeeeeese? Puter? Pleeeeeese? Puter? Pleeeeeese? Puter? Pleeeeeese? Puter? Pleeeeeese? Puter? Pleeeeeese? Puter? Pleeeeeese? Puter? Pleeeeeese? Puter? Pleeeeeese? Puter? Pleeeeeese?"

Who could resist this sweet face?

Ainsley can't let Durham do all the talking. "I get to watch MY shows today. I don't like the house show, Mom. Maybe we can paint the birdhouse? Will you play Barbies with me? We should listen to music. I can dance."

By the time I've finished changing Durham's diaper I have to break Ainsley's heart, because I cannot dance or play Barbies or paint a birdhouse. I have to give Wrenn a bottle.

By the time I've finished feeding Wrenn, I know I have about a 20 minute grace period of her being happy with which to get some necessary morning activities done. I attempt to get all the kids dressed. It takes quite a bit of negotiation to find an acceptable ensemble for Ainsley.

"I can't wear that shirt, Mom. It looks like a shirt YOU would wear."

In attempting to get Durham dressed, he becomes distressed that no one is putting shoes on. His only joy in life comes from leaving the house. After fetching his shoes, only to have me put them away three times in a row, he's quite distraught.

"Durham SHOES! Durham SHOES! Durham SHOES! Durham SHOES! Durham SHOES! Durham SHOES! Durham SHOES! Durham SHOES! Durham SHOES! Durham SHOES!"

He won't allow me to get close enough to put his pants on. He only wants his shoes.

Oy. Time to wash faces, brush hair, and brush teeth. This will result in quite a few tears. Ainsley cries when I brush her hair, Durham cries when I brush his teeth. I start with Ainsley as she's the easier one. She enjoys brushing her teeth because she has a musical toothbrush. She's supposed to brush for the full 2 minutes while the song plays. Luckily she'll play the song three times in a row. Unfortunately she's not brushing her teeth during that time. She's dancing. The girl just can't let an opportunity to dance pass by. I ask politely for her to go into the bathroom with her toothbrush and brush her teeth. 

 

She ignores me.

 

I ask politely one more time.

 

She ignores me. 

 

At this point I could have found some great parenting method to use to train her to listen better tome without having to yell. Unfortunately I'm too tired for great parenting methods.

 

I raise my voice. "Ainsley? Can you hear me? GO BACK INTO THE BATHROOM AND BRUSH YOUR TEETH!"

 

She responds by giving me a lecture about using my angry voice. We have a long conversation about angry voices, listening, and respect. 

 

I decide to move on to Durham. Durham doesn't like to have his teeth brushed. We tried getting a special Thomas the Tank Engine toothbrush, but that particular brush is TERRIFYING to him. I'm going to use the old toothbrush that isn't quite so scary.

 

"Roar like a lion, Durham! Open your mouth and roar! Roar like Mommy! See Froggy is brushing his teeth too! You can do it just like Froggy! Open your mouth Froggy!"

 

He won't have any of my roaring/Froggy shenanigans. He simply clamps his mouth shut and flails his arms wildly. I'm forced to put him in a leg lock in order to get his teeth brushed. He's going to need serious therapy eventually, but at least he won't have a cavity. 

 

While he's crying, I wash his face. Might as well get all the terrible aspects of cleanliness done all in one shot. 

 



And in the end he looks like he's been attacked by said lion.





Time to finish up with Ainsley. She fetches herself a chair to sit in while I brush and do her hair. 

 

"I need candy, a drink, and MY show in order to sit and get my hair done." 

 

Who IS this sassy child? She gets only one of the three requests. While I brush Ainsley's hair, Wrenn gets a little bit of tummy time. Right now, she's the one that cries the least. How is that possible?

 



Tummy time. And not crying. Thank God!

By the time I've got Ainsley's hair brushed, a musical interlude (we're watching 80s videos) comes on the television. We need to pause. TIME TO DANCE! 

She attempts to sing the lyrics to all songs she hears, even if it's the first time she's ever heard the song.

We finish up her hair and everyone spends some time picking up the house. By the time I've got most of the house picked up, the dishes done, and one load of laundry started, I arrive back in the living room to find this:

Ainsley's buddies are tucked snug into a baby wipe and Kleenex bed. Awww. She's such a sweetie.

I need to attempt a shower now. Showers are tricky. By the time I get out of the shower, any number of things could go wrong. Durham could be playing in the dishwasher with dirty dishes (he knows how to open it up). Ainsley could be attempting to pick Wrenn up. There will ALWAYS be a suspicious mess of articles gathered from all corners of the house. No one ever knows who did it. 

 

I decided to put on a favorite television show to distract the older two into zombiehood and take the little one into the bathroom with me to protect her from the older two.



Good little zombies.

Nice and safe from disaster.

Part of motherhood I didn't expect was having to take the world's fastest showers. Why? 

Because this happens the moment I get in the shower.

I still have soap in my hair when I emerge from the least effective shower ever. I don't even take long to dry myself off because I feel too guilty about Wrenn's crying. Do I take time to put my contacts in? Is that too selfish? 

 

I pick her up. I'm still half wet, not wearing contacts, am only in a robe, and haven't brushed my teeth.

 

But Wrenn isn't crying. 

 

Ainsley walk in and gives me doe eyes. "Will you play with me? You never play with me."

 

Are they working together to make me feel guilty? Why do they WANT to play with a woman who never has a chance to brush her teeth? 

 

So my half-wet, robed, snarly-haired, crying baby-holding, stinky-breath self walks back out into the thick of it to play with my kids. 



Color, color, color.



Vroom, vroom, vroom.

By the time I'm finishing playing with my older two, Wrenn is getting sleepy. Here's my chance to dry myself off. To brush my hair and teeth. To get dressed! What do I do?

Snuggle up on the chair with her and take a nap as well. To hell with it all. I'm tired.

I catnap while Wrenn sleeps and the other two talk nonstop. 

 

"STUCK!!! STUCK!!!"

"What does 'jiffy' mean?"

"Uh oh. TOW TRUCK!"

"There's pizza in the birdhouse!"

"Puter, please? PUTER PLEASE?!"

"What should I do first? Play dollies or color? Mom? WHAT SHOULD I DO FIRST?"

"Tow truck? Tow truck?"

"Mom, can I have a juice?"

"Durham JUICE? Durham JUICE?"

 

This catnap just isn't working out like I'd hoped. I give up, get drinks for everyone, put Wrenn down in her chair, and attempt to do my hair. Maybe I'll even get dressed.



"Not for long, mom. Remember when you said you loved to hold me? Well that's backfiring on you, isn't it?"

At this point I NEED to do a little personal hygiene. I let Wrenn cry a bit so I can get everything accomplished. And by "everything accomplished", I mean that I look 20% publicly acceptable. My plan was to take the kids to the library. I look terrible. No make up, hair isn't done, only brushed. I managed to brush my teeth and put on clothes. 

 

Wrenn was screaming the whole time. OH, THE GUILT. 

 

After a guilt-filled 3.5 minutes of me-time, I pick Wrenn up and realize that she's hungry. Time to make a bottle and change her and Durham's diaper. It is at this moment that Ainsley comes to me and says:

 

"Mom? I got out the Candy Land board and set it up all by myself. If you have time, I could be Cinderella and you could play another princess. Will you play with me?"

 

Apparently, parenting three is all about GUILT! I promise to play with her after I change two diapers and make a bottle. I go as fast as I can, because Wrenn is still crying from hunger and Durham is...2 years old. Changing a 2 year old's diaper is always an adventure. 

 

By the time I've made the bottle, I attempt to feed Wrenn whilst playing princess Candy Land with my daughter.



Sometimes she's just the sweetest, most demanding thing.

Enjoying a little multitasking.

I kick my daughter's butt in Candy Land. She takes it like a champ. By the end of it I announce to the kiddos that we're going to the library. Durham immediately SPRINTS full out to his room, grabs his coat and shoes, and assumes the diaper changing position.

This kid knows the routine, huh?

I change diapers for the younger two again. You can never have a fresh enough diaper when traveling out of the house with two diapered children. I get him fully ready to leave and he stands at the gate as if we'll leave soon. 

 

Ha. I've got two more to get ready bud. And that doesn't include the raggedy looking woman who'll be accompanying you. 

 

I tell Ainsley to get her coat and shoes and attempt to get Wrenn packed and ready. By the time I've got Wrenn in her seat, a diaper bag packed, and think we're close to being ready...

...this happens. Let's just say my life DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE.

Durham has been waiting patiently at the gate the whole time I resolve all problems associated with the bathtub. All four of us head down the stairs and out to the garage to go to the library. I'm thinking I'm a pretty rock star Mom at this point. 

 

Look at me. Leaving the house and whatnot. Boom.

 

And then...

Durham forgets about the library and decides to just play on the scooter.

Have you ever met a 2 year old? They don't like to be told what to do. They also have this cool move known as the "limp fish" in which they lay on the ground, crying and limp, making it impossible to pick them up. 



Finally. Now everyone smile and look like you are ENJOYING THIS TRIP.



Have I mentioned that we haven't even LEFT THE HOUSE YET? 

We hit up Tim Horton's on the way because this Mama needs some caffeine. As soon as we pull into the parking lot, both older kids start chanting. "Donuts! Donuts!" 

We come here often. Usually when I need to get out of the house, I pile all three kids in the car and drive around my town aimlessly. It's too hard to get the kids out of the car, so we get coffee (for me) and donuts (for them) and drive past all the important places in our town. We pass the mouse, go over the covered bridge, look at the water slides, see all the different schools, and generally have a merry ol' time just driving around for 40 minutes. 

Not this time. Today we get OUT of the car. Oh the adventure.

They even held hands on the way in together. They had to because I was holding the
diaper bag, the baby, and a coffee. Imagine that, why don't ya?

The wonderful and terrible thing about our library is the toys. Durham loves the train table. Ainsley loves the doll house.



Both of them love the computers.

Have you noticed that I haven't mentioned anything about books yet? That's because neither of them even notice the books. Now I'm pretty proud of all the books we read in our household, so it's not due to the fact that they never read books. It's just that there are so many toys. 

Ainsley, being four years old now, will actually pick out books if I make her. She chose three books. How did she make her choices? All the books were pink on the outside. She definitely judges a book by its cover.

Her favorite choice that day.

I found a few truck books for my truck-loving boy and began to plan my exit strategy. 

Two year olds require an exit strategy. I haven't mastered the exit strategy, even though this isn't my first two year old. I use a happy voice. I talk about the covered bridge, his favorite lunches, reading the truck book in the car...

His response? Limp fish. Limp fish x 100. 

I have to abandon my coffee because now I am holding a baby carrier, 7 books, a diaper bad, and a toddler thrown over my shoulder. Time to go, kiddies.



I eventually get all three back in the car. The only one who is not traumatized is Ainsley.
The rest of us are crying.

Wrenn had been a sweet, little angel during most of the library trip. The commotion of Durham's exit woke her up and reminded her that she was hungry.

So we head home quickly. When I get home all three kids are hungry. The older two are forced to wait for their meal as I change 2 more diapers and give the baby a bottle. They talk the whole time I'm feeding Wrenn. 

"Durham juice? Durham juice?!!!"

"I only want a sandwich with cheese. No meat. Do I have to have meat, Mom?"

"Puter, please? PUTER PLEASE?!"

"PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME EAT MEAT!"

"Durham juice? Durham juice?!!!"

"I'll just eat crackers and cheese. Is that ok?"

"Durham outside? Durham outside?!!!"

"What if I throw up? I can't eat lunch meat."

"Race car? Race car?"

After Wrenn finishes her bottle, I make lunch for the older two. Wrenn lays contentedly asleep while I get a salad and yogurt ready for Ainsley (her choice) and a sandwich and pickles for Durham.

Her smile didn't last long. She discovered carrots in her salad.
You'd cry if you discovered carrots in your salad as well, right? No?

Durham finishes his meal without incident. You'd think a person wouldn't have to write such a sentence. "...finishes his meal without incident." In our family, however, there are many mealtime incidents.

This meal's incident revolves around the carrots. It takes a good 30 minutes for the incident to pass. By the end, Ainsley has chosen to forgo any afternoon snack rather than eat any part of the salad she had requested. 

By the time I've fed all three kids and dealt with "the incident", Wrenn is awake again. 

Mama eats one-handed while rocking back and forth in the kitchen holding a baby. 

Hey, at least I got to eat! :)


Part two of this day is coming soon. Tune in to hear if I got all three to nap simultaneously.