Babies and Chemicals

Judgement free zone here. Right?

FML.

Besides the fact that the babies gave up sleeping this week, I felt like things were lightening up a bit. Harper’s tantrums were less frequent. I got on a scale accidentally and wasn’t horrified by the number. I’ve been working on a project with a friend that I’m SUPER stoked for. (Stay tuned).

All in all, I was feeling good.

Then, this morning happened.

Nathan had to get to BK early to move the car. Which is fine. I can totally handle dressing two babies – popping them in the stroller and still manage to get a 2yo to school by 8am.

Yeah. I can definitely handle that.

The addition of a 20yo cat peeing on the wall. And the 3yo dog peeing on (through…) the carpet, on the other hand – I did not bake into the equation.

It was only 7am though. I could still manage to clean it all, get H to school, and to an exciting/important/fun meeting I had planned.

Ehhhm. Nah. I can’t.

By 7:30am I had two babies face down in the carpet (yup, dog pee carpet) laying in their own vomit. This, while I had the swiffer, natures miracle, resolve, 10lbs of baking soda, a vacuum and a toddler with one rain boot on, next to me.

I tried to clean. Used a mop. Some powder. Some spray. And not surprisingly – because I’m me. I managed to stain the wood floor – in my brand new rental apt – a nice shade of black. In more than one location.

Sweet. Luckily Harper was right beside me holding paper towels and a bottle that may as well have been hydrochloric acid, while licking her other hand.

Somehow over the course of the next four hours the situation remained exactly the same – except the toddler now had mandarin orange juice dripping down her chest and all over the (same) carpet, and crusty cream cheese on her face. Needless to say, the four loads of laundry piled on the kitchen table (since Monday), the three loads still in the basket from last night, crying pukey babies, urine emanating from…everywhere – nothing was getting done.

So, I called my Mom.

The toddler opened the door to let my dad in, but much more exciting – to take a shit diaper to the garbage chute. And I let her. Still wearing (only) one solitary rain boot.

The next 45 minutes proceeded to include one of her epic tantrums. You’d think it was in response to me stopping her from using chemicals to clean piss.

Nope.

She didn’t want to put on pants.

I guess we’ve all been there.

After pinning her down on the bed. Holding her with all my weight. I got underwear. Pants and a shirt on. But. NO. Not that shirt. Fifteen minutes more of screaming bloody murder. Until. Wait. Oh. Ok. Yes.That shirt.

Ultimately she would only go to school if I wore her on my back. But with no coat. Babies, by the way – still crying and mostly covered in spit up.

After the red behind my eyes turned a warmer shade of pink I was able to get her to school – only 4 1/2 hours late. Teeth and hair unbrushed. Definitely unfed and 45 mins past lunch. She was absolutely the dirty kid today. Hands down.

And of course. Parent teacher conference was (apparently) today. But as she’s 2yo I can say, with some conviction – it was cool if I skipped this one.

Sorry kid.

Babies asleep in the stroller I could definitely get home now and finally clean and still make the second half of my meeting at 3.

After a quick stop to get a six pack of Guinness – returned to the stroller. Four wide motherfucking eyes staring up at me. One bottom lip trembling.

I called it, right there.

Now, I’m home. the two babies finally decided to sleep. But only on me, of course. So the chemicals, the stain, the laundry – and the pee, are just going to have to wait.

Not making my meeting.

Not eating lunch.

If only I had a super duper bendy silly straw.

Cause, damn. That six pack of Guinness in the fridge is definitely not drinking itself.

TGIF

Author: BexHasBabies

I’m a wife and mom of a four year old and a set of two-year-old twins, (in)fertility warrior, community builder, supporter, friend, connector, counselor, advocate, doula, coach, Licensed Master of Social Work based out of Manhattan. After embarking on my own path to becoming a mother, something in me shifted. My passions, my identity, my purpose all took on new meanings. I realized how lonely it can be for those without community, support, or someone in their corner to guide them. From that moment I realized I wanted to help women setting out on this chapter of their lives-- whether they are struggling with infertility (as I did), pregnancy challenges, miscarriage or infant loss, life as a new mom, or all the spaces in between. I am particularly passionate about normalizing infertility, postpartum challenges, pressures associated with social media, breastfeeding and everyday struggles balancing life with infants and toddlers. I aim to add humor and my own personal reality to these and other parenting topics with the hope that it makes women understand they are not alone. I am in the trenches with you and we’re all just doing our best. My best, your best, is good enough. Its-Conceivable.com @itsconceivablebyrebekahrosler

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