Today was one of those days, I felt like I was spread so thin you could've seen right through me if you held a flash light up to my back. It wasn't a particularly bad day, it was actually pretty par for the course. Scary thought. it all started when I woke up to a puddle of pee in my bed. It wasn't my pee. There's always a silver lining. No, it was Charlie's pee. Why is Charlie's pee in my bed you ask? Well, Charlie is my 2nd bed buddy and somehow finds his way into our bed almost nightly, between the hours of midnight and 2 a.m. he magically appears. And you know I can't say I really mind. My love tank would only be about half full without his constant snuggles, little arms around my neck, chubby fingers running through my hair or across my face, or without him showering me with kisses and sweet nothings like "Mommy you smell so good" and "I like you the best Mommy" or "you're the best Mom in the whole-white-world" or even "you are such a great artist Mommy." I mean the kid is precious, puddle of pee excepted. So like I was saying, at 6-something a.m. I discover not only a urine surprise, but also realize I am having a MAJOR episode of vertigo. I just about puke which is such an awesome way to start the day, oh well, guess the sheets are already dirty so wouldn't have mattered...So I try to get my sea legs under me and I am feeling tears coming just at the thought of getting 4 kids and myself ready for the school day feeling like poop. I strip the bed, strip and wash up Charlie, then on to the big kids. It's Thursday so that means Dawson has school too, wearing pj's and rainboots in the car is not an option for him today. I get all 5 of us dressed and breakfast made for all the Rufflings and thank my lucky stars that I'd had the foresight to pack their lunches last night. At 11pm of course, on one last miliounce of energy. But healthy lunches are made and I enjoy a moment of happiness. So today happens to be a day that I had an appointment in the morning too. Todd's Dad is set to watch the twins for about an hour. But when I leave the house, my bed buddy freaks out. I mean flips. Typical. So I finally get out the door with the bigs, still swirling and now sad and worried for Chuckles. We leave the house at 7:45 every morning because we still have a solid 20 minute drive to school, so it's not even 8 and I'm toast. I get Ella to school, then drive to Dawson's school. I've arranged for Jack's Mom to wait the last 15 minutes with Dawson and walk him to class, but poor Dawson is yet another hopeless Mama's boy and he was nervous about this. His little bee stung lips were shaking and he kept kissing me. I have to go though, like yesterday, or I'm going to be late getting all the way down town from Colbert! So I literally run out the door and come to the realization that I'm being smacked in the face by icy snow, in late March, and irritation seeps from every pore. The drive seems endless because I'm anticipating being horribly late. I manage to get to my appointment only a couple minutes behind. Phew. So fast forward, I get the usual day stuff done even though I feel like I'm floating on a life raft on a stormy sea, I even do a little bit of yard work, the fresh air did me some good. And by fresh air I mean frozen air. Maybe it did me good because it numbed my brain. Anyhow, I came inside and plopped on the couch, after which the twins immediately take this as a sign to get their doctor kit out and "fix me", AKA poke me in the eyes and pinch me with fake medical devices. I'm so sleepy but of course now it's time to load back up in the car and get Dawson, then go to Ella's school, wait 20 minutes for her to get out, drive home...Dawson's cranky and tired and starts fighting with Charlie. Ella is whistling incessantly in the back and then gets annoyed that no one can hear her talking. The boys decide to make up and to celebrate ending their fight, they happily scream at the top of their lungs. So loudly that they can't hear me screaming to stop because my skull hurts. We make it back home, I get them all unloaded, grab some raspberries and yogurt and my bag and get right back in the car and head to work. I got home from work at 8:30 tonight to see what I always see on Thursdays, all the kids waiting for me to put them to bed. Well first they all start excitedly screaming "Mommy's home! Mommy's home!" as if I've been to Tibet for a long holiday. After the screaming comes the waiting. Apparently I'm the only parent qualified to do bed time. Heaven forbid their father put them to bed, that would be downright torture. So Todd tells them to go up and brush teeth and all the boys are crying and crying and yelling down the stairs "Mom, MOM, MOM!! Aren't you coming up?!" to which I yell back "yes, can I pee and wash my hands for crying out loud?!" Real Mom of the year material. So I drag myself upstairs, read the slew of books they've picked out, and begin the arduous task of lulling them to sleep...
I lay between the twins, Mitchy's out first, good, sweet boy. And speaking of that, can I just give a quick thank you to Jesus at this point. "Thank you Jesus that Mitchy has a normal sleep schedule, at least someone in this stinking house sleeps like a human." So on the other side of me is, dun dun dun....Charlie. He is of course pulling my hair, a strange fettish he's had since babyhood, and NOT sleeping. 20 minutes goes by...Then Dawson starts whimpering, "Mom, when are you coming to lay with me? You've been with the babies for like 10 years." I whisper to Charlie "can I go be with Dawson for a bit? I'm coming back. I'M COMING BACK." So now I'm with Dawson and my job is to tickle his back, so I do, for a long time. Still, he's awake. By now it's 9:00 and my stomach is growling like a bear because I haven't even had dinner yet. I ask him why he isn't sleepy, "because you aren't tickling my back still." So I tickle again, he's finally getting zen, sucking his thumb {yes, yet another reason I should be considered an epic failure as a Mom} and I think he's finally drifting off...I try to sneak out of the room and of course the friggin' door squeaks really loudly, I keep forgetting to grease it gosh darnit. So I slip downstairs and make myself a gourmet meal of cheese and crackers. Two kinds of cheese mind you, so I'm really living it up, and black olives. And I hate black olives. I wanted a pickle but of course we're out because that's the kind of world we live in. So I stuff my crabby face with one last horrible black olive and look up to see Dawson standing next to me in the kitchen. It's after 9:30 and I'm beat, what is wrong with these kids and their freakish energy. He asks to sleep in my bed, I don't give a rip at this point. So off he goes, to our bed, thumb in mouth just to remind me that I still suck at parenting. I then remember that I should probably take a shower at some point. After that I'm too tired to even have a treat, and that is saying something. I crawl into bed and lay there for 20 minutes, my mind buzzing. And here I am typing this at midnight because, of all the cruel ironies in the world, I can't sleep.
