You know how Mondays are typically not most people's favourite day? Usually I like them. New week, fresh start, usually lots of energy. Sometimes..... Mondays don't go well.
Today started off well (if you forget about the 5:30am feeding). I was up on time, had breakfast and jumped in the shower. I got out and Emma was screaming her head off. I had put her back to bed after nursing her at 7:30 because she was cranky and I figured, ready for bed. Well, turns out she had other plans. Other plans that included wiggling to the top of her bed causing her dress to be pulled every which way. That may or may not have added to her screeching. So, she came out of bed and sat in her bumbo chair watching Katie eat breakfast.
Katie is dressed and eating toast with jam, some of which may have ended up on Emma's toes, along with some banana. Emma at this point was still fussing and dousing herself with some of her breakfast she apparently didn't want after all. At this point she smelled like some bad cheese that's been sitting in the sun.
My hair was still in a towel, but at least my face was painted. Diapers were clean and ready to be hung on the line.
Katie is done breakfast. Oh and did I mention we're working on potty training her? So she's in her underwear and the timer is set for every 30 minutes. I put Emma, smell included, back in bed. So time to do my hair. I decide I don't feel like blow drying it, so it's gonna be a gel/curly day. My hands are covered in gel with hair stuck everywhere. (Don't you just love when losing hair after having a baby?) and Katie says the dreaded "Oh no!" which means she peed. Lovely. She comes running to the bathroom, legs wet, underwear soaked. Great! I'll just wash my hands and get my half-done hair out of my face. So onto the toilet she goes as I rinse out her underwear, find another pair and clean up the puddle on the floor and the wet marks all the way to bathroom. (I am SO thankful we have hardwood!) Of course, she's let it all out all of the floor, so there's nothing left to give.
She's cleaned up and I'm trying to finish my hair. Ok, gel, and who knows what else is in my hair and it looks...... junky. Ok, I'll just quickly wash it in the shower and try again. I'm bent over the shower soaking my hair, but Katie wants to feel the water. No, not with her hands, her feet. I'm trying to patient, I'm trying to be loving, but will. you. please. just. not. try. to. touch. the. water!?! Hair back in my towel but I really need to get those diapers on the line.
Alright Katie, time to go outside! Oh the butterflies, Oh the bugs, they're all out to get my daughter! She half plays, half wanders around then "Oh no!" Apparently there is more to give. Run inside, she's dry, but maybe just maybe we'll get something! Nada. So, time to sit a while. I go outside to finish hanging up diapers and am serenaded by my two-year old, "I'm doooone, Mommy... I'm doone" Ya right! Diapers are done and Katie has yet to produce a drop. Now that I'm inside, she wants nothing to do with outside. Time to try and do my hair, one more time. I really need to get out the door in half an hour and I hate leaving with wet hair, so I guess we'll try the blow dryer. My sink is full of hair and just when I think I may be getting somewhere. "Oh no!" and here comes Katie. So off come the underwear and the sandals she was still wearing and I toss them into the sink. Oh great, the sink which was full of my hair, the hair that is now stuck to Katie's wet underwear.
At this point I'm trying desperately to come up with one of the reasons I wanted kids. I'm praying "Give me patience, Lord, please give me patience!" Katie again won't produce so off she comes. I rinse her sandals and put them on the floor. As I'm hanging up her underwear, a thought comes fleeting across my consciousness. "Katie never plays in the toilet, she wouldn't grab her sandal and do anything with it" Unfortunately, my consciousness got it wrong and I turn around to witness Katie pulling her sandal out of the toilet. At this point, I'm ready to give up. I don't care if she's in diapers till she's 10; it's gotta be easier than this.
Emma is awake and I should nurse her before we go out. I go upstairs; she's awake and I lean over her crib expecting to be greeting by a smile. She gets halfway there and then remembers she's mad at me and needs to show it. It's like there's a thought bubble above her head reading: "How could you leave me in here? This dark room? In the smelly dress? I mean really Mom, how could you be so cruel? "
I don't know, I guess motherhood makes one cruel, either that or you just realise it's not quite the dream you always thought it'd be.
We go out, have a good time, and come back. Emma finally fell asleep so at least I can get lunch into Katie without a screeching serenade. Katie isn't hungry. She eats half a slice of bread and plays with the rest. Fine, you don't want to eat, I won't make you eat. To bed you go. Emma's nursed and put in bed. I sit down to eat some lunch in peace and quiet. Emma is chattering to herself. Today, Monday, the day when my girls need extra sleep, they don't sleep.
An hour and a half after Katie is in bed and I hear her chattering away. I go to enforce my desire for her to sleep only to be greeted by a telltale smell. Diaper change time again. I don't say a word as I bring her downstairs and she apparently catches on because she didn't say a word either. Hokey Dina! It's a big load. Flush aaaand cue clogging! Ah, yes. Of course, my two-year has clogged the toilet. My life is amazing. Back to bed and a lecture on staying in bed and going to sleep. I stand outside for less than a minute. Oh good, she's listening...NOT! Once more to put her back under her sheet and then I dunno.. I guess I just don't care. As long as she's playing quietly I guess. I can't force her to sleep. Emma still screeching and is getting close to ultrasonic levels. Should I go in, should I leave her? Then I hear it her. Her thumb in her mouth. Ah, sweet, blissful silence.
So now I type. I find it strangely soothing, almost therapeutic to write this all down. It's good to remember these bad days; it makes me so much more thankful for the good days. At least my house is clean still. Supper is half made, but the dishes aren't done. The diapers are dry and need to be folded. So while the kiddos sleep I should make good use of the time, but my eyes keep gazing longingly at the couch. To sleep or not to sleep, that is the question.