Last night was magical. The most beautiful thing happened. It was incredible, in a mind boggling way. It was stunningly life changing.
Oh wait. No, that was last year.
Last night was fucking awful.
I had only recently been thinking how smoothly things had been going as of late.
I was in a groove. Babies were too. Nathan and I hadn’t been bickering over apartment cleanliness. I had been cooking for the babies. We had been eating meals. I had some exciting meetings and events for MomMeetUps.com.
All in all I had been feeling really good.
But as we know, all good things must come to an end.
That happened on Tuesday.
I was pumped about my week ahead. Meeting some new expectant moms. Excited for our first working moms lunch. Then on Tuesday I get the dreaded call from daycare. Kid has a 102 temp. You must pick him up. Of course I felt badly for him. But also – I had so much work to do this week. And – shit – they were just sick for the ENTIRE MONTH OF JULY.
Alas, I went and did what any good mother would do. I rushed to pick him up. After finishing my leftover enchiladas and perhaps finishing an episode of Bachelor in Paradise while rattling off just a few outstanding emails.
The week went as one would expect. Motrin. Tylenol. Motrin. Tylenol. Then two days later the fever spiked. So I did what any good mother would do…three days into their kid having a fever over 102…called the Doc.
Turns out he has an ear infection. Which is of course treatable. But he was miserable. And it was breaking my heart.
This would all have been manageable except my twenty year old cat – during this exact time frame – became entirely incontinent and, apparently, started using our rugs as his litter box. So in the course of three days. One wood floor and three rugs were destroyed. Hours were spent on the floor trying to salvage them all. Hours well spent, I must say.
But I digress. JB was pretty hysterical after his diagnosis. Hadn’t given him his Motrin because I had thought he was on the mend. So I clearly needed to get meds. And some pain killers in him. So I did what any good mother would do. I stopped to vote on the way home.
Then I got home and was in a rush, inevitably. Had two other kids to pick up. But first my phone was dead and I needed to order his meds before I left. But the order hadn’t come through. So with an hysterical baby, dog who hadn’t been out all day (because who would ever walk a dog while the baby was asleep upstairs) I was juggling calling the drug delivery company and finding the goddamn syringe – that of course we only had one of, since that very morning – the other one broke – and was currently missing – and I had to administer the Motrin.
It was nowhere. So I grabbed a cup and attempted to force him to drink it.
First he choked. Then he threw up all over himself. And the stroller. And me. The floor. And everywhere. But I still had to go get everyone else, thirty minutes ago. Of course, as I’m naked and dripping – and stepping – in vomit – the phone – that’s plugged into the wall because I can’t bring it with me since it was dead – rings before I leave. The drug company is glad they got me before I left. They don’t have the meds the doc prescribed. But it’s the only med he can take because this 364 day old baby has already been pumped with so many antibiotics – this was the only one he could be prescribed. But actually – wait – they do have it. False alarm. Cool. And they will happily order it for a delivery after 6pm. Which of course is after bedtime.
Fuck. Whatever – I need to rush to get everyone else.
Finally got all the kids. Past bedtime. I’m wearing JB. Pushing M. Holding H’s scooter while she refuses to scoot and demands to hold my hand. And walking the dog. While I’m holding a cupcake.
So OBVIOUSLY H tells me she has to poop, way before we’re close to home. So somehow I get her to green grass in time. Tie up the dog so she doesn’t get the stupid cupcake. Make sure the stroller doesn’t roll away with twin a in it. I pull her pants down – hold her in the squat position, and notice that apparently the ground is not flat and the scooter is rolling towards the goddamn road. So I have to make a gametime decision. Keep holding the kid or run to get the scooter. I won’t share which direction I chose. Needless to say H did in fact not need to poop. The dog did not get the chocolate cupcake. And most importantly – the scooter did not get run over by a car.
From there bedtime was relatively uneventful. Everyone went down. Got meds in the boy while he was sleeping. And thought – ok, maybe will actually sleep tonight. As this week had been a series of 4am or 4:30 wake ups – I was hopeful tonight would treat us well.
Then I remembered I hadn’t been able to work all week – and really needed to GSD (get shit done). So I set out to work. Three hours later I called it a night hoping I’d actually get to fall asleep. Shut my computer and laid down.
Haha! Joke’s on me.
Apparently the apartment above us thinks that 11:30pm is the most opportune time to either move their entire apartment around. Or drop bowling balls on their floor. Either way. I cannot fathom why a drill needed to be involved. After calling security twice. It did not stop.
But I fell asleep. Only to wake up to “Mommy I have to pee!” So of course. Off I go. She pees. Only cries for 3 minutes before going back to sleep in her own bed…I climb back into bed yet again, hopeful.
“Mommy Mommy Mommmyyyyyyyyyyyyy”. Screeching and screaming. I don’t want her to wake the sick kid. Or the other one. So I get her. Knowing full well this is a downward spiral. But at least I will be able to sleep a little. So I lay her next to me…
Foot in the face. Elbow the rib. But mainly I was used as a bed while 23 pounds of toddler laid on top of me until….screaming and crying from the baby room again. So this time I get the sick one. Meanwhile I have zero idea what time it is because my 4027 year old cat decided to knock every item off my night table, one by one – at the one point in the night I was actually sleeping.
So now I have the boy in bed. My side of the bed at one point literally had the cat on my feet, dog in the crook of my knees, boy on a boob and feet of a toddler in my face.
This morning I had had grand plans. We are having a family day. I will keep all the kids home. And cook our big kid one year olds a birthday feast. Eggs. Sausage. Sliced fruit. Yogurt. Pancakes.
But man plans. God laughs. They ate a stale bagel with some peanut butter.
Somehow 17 hours of labor feels like a vacation right about now.
Happy 1st Birthday Kiddos. The days are long but the years are short. We love you with every ounce of our being. But for the love of god, just let us sleep.