Motherhood for me is a juggling act. A very ungraceful one at times. I was never very graceful to begin with so I guess it's no surprise that when it comes to motherhood my skills at times resemble the goofy clown in the middle of the circus show rather than the graceful trapeze artist (I've made this analogy once before here and if you haven't read it it's worth the read).
I reached a point this week where I was torn between crying or laughing. I have balls everywhere and trying to pull everything into a neat, tidy little balance is about damn near impossible. As always I feel pretty with it and like I got this act down on Monday. I'm a beautiful graceful trapeze artist on Mondays. My children are wonderful and well behaved (haha), my house is cleaned for the most part from my weekly weekend housekeeping, meals are planned out for the week, the fridge is stocked with groceries bought over the weekend, laundry is caught up and put away, lessons are planned for the week, and grading is as caught up as an English teacher's grading gets. Oh, and my husband and I are getting along because we had a great weekend to refresh and reconnect and aren't incredibly stressed out and picking on one another just simply because the other one is there. I start thinking this is cake. I got this. These are my thoughts and then I realize it's only Monday.
It use to be around Wednesday when my balancing act would start to resemble a tumbling trapeze artist. Wednesday's are when I slip on the wire, my outfit tears, and the crowd catches their breath wondering if I'm going to pull myself back up or fall below in another failed attempt at this balancing act.
This week the slip of balance started on Tuesday and I didn't even go to work this Monday! My futon is currently covered in unfolded clothes that for the life of me I cannot find time to fold. I've finally sat down twice at 930 to fold them only to realize I'm too tired and need to go to bed. In the process of trying to do laundry Tuesday night is also when my husband starts hollering from above. When this occurs we just shake our head wondering why the other thinks we can hear them from one floor to the other. I finally go upstairs to the kitchen and he says to me, "I've been yelling fire. I've yelled fire like six times."
Do you ever just stare at something dumbfounded, thinking is that really happening? That was me as I stared at my stove which at that moment was shooting fairly high flames from the one burner. I just stood there. At this point my oldest daughter sees the fire and starts crying hysterically and because she's crying my younger daughter starts crying. The dog starts barking. And I'm just standing there. Not helping with the fire, not calming the girls, not sending anybody outside. Finally I say, "Throw flour on it. That's what we did in college when the stove caught on fire." At this point, he's already smothering it with a wet dishrag. It's of course my nice decorative one I have set out.
My next words are, "You're using my good towel!" At this point the look my husband gives me is enough to get me to at least move. He had it under control so I went to sit on the couch with the two girls. Then on top of the crying and barking dog, the annoying sound of the fire alarm started.
That was Tuesday. On Wednesday, while my husband was at class and I was trying to clean up the dishes from the night before in order to heat us all up leftovers because again it was getting towards 800 since Averi had dance that night. The girls were playing together wonderfully. Even Averi stressed to me how well they were playing. Kenz comes in as I'm finishing up something with cleaning, and I pick her up. And FREAK out! Averi had cut her beautiful curls off into a mullet! My baby did not even have an inch of hair left on the top or side of her head. Every time I look at my poor baby I just want to cry. I know it's hair and it'll grow back, but I love her curls! Averi knew I was upset and spent a good half hour crying, and when my poor husband came home from class at 800 he had to do some emergency haircutting because Averi cut her hair as well. Let me just say as a mother, when we do screw up because we weren't paying attention, don't start with the "what were you doing?" "weren't you watching them?" I don't need the criticism. I feel bad enough as it is. No one that was a mother themselves said one critical thing; it of course came from a nonmother.
Today, minus the fact that something was up with my contacts this morning, is going okay. Of course I haven't made it home yet. I'm pretty sure I put my contacts in the wrong eyes this morning. They were making me dizzy and causing me a massive headache so again my husband came to the rescue (this guy is starting to deserve a medal at this point) and brought me new ones. I thought the problem was all fixed except I could not see right out of my left eye. It was even worse than before so three hours after I get to work I go to take them out again. The life of a teacher; if you're not passed out or gushing blood it's hard to do anything outside of planning time. I take it out. I take out the first one in my left eye and then I take out the second one in my left eye. That's right. I put my new contact in my eye right over the top of my old one.
It's at this point that I'm starting to think maybe I need a keeper. I'm a hot mess. Some days I may be a half a step ahead of crazy but I think at some point this week I just crossed over to crazy. My vision is always to be the graceful trapeze artist but weeks like this really show how maybe the goofy clown is a better analogy to my balance of motherhood.
Averi's haircut after her dad fixed it.
Kenzi's haircut courtesy of her sister
I reached a point this week where I was torn between crying or laughing. I have balls everywhere and trying to pull everything into a neat, tidy little balance is about damn near impossible. As always I feel pretty with it and like I got this act down on Monday. I'm a beautiful graceful trapeze artist on Mondays. My children are wonderful and well behaved (haha), my house is cleaned for the most part from my weekly weekend housekeeping, meals are planned out for the week, the fridge is stocked with groceries bought over the weekend, laundry is caught up and put away, lessons are planned for the week, and grading is as caught up as an English teacher's grading gets. Oh, and my husband and I are getting along because we had a great weekend to refresh and reconnect and aren't incredibly stressed out and picking on one another just simply because the other one is there. I start thinking this is cake. I got this. These are my thoughts and then I realize it's only Monday.
It use to be around Wednesday when my balancing act would start to resemble a tumbling trapeze artist. Wednesday's are when I slip on the wire, my outfit tears, and the crowd catches their breath wondering if I'm going to pull myself back up or fall below in another failed attempt at this balancing act.
This week the slip of balance started on Tuesday and I didn't even go to work this Monday! My futon is currently covered in unfolded clothes that for the life of me I cannot find time to fold. I've finally sat down twice at 930 to fold them only to realize I'm too tired and need to go to bed. In the process of trying to do laundry Tuesday night is also when my husband starts hollering from above. When this occurs we just shake our head wondering why the other thinks we can hear them from one floor to the other. I finally go upstairs to the kitchen and he says to me, "I've been yelling fire. I've yelled fire like six times."
Do you ever just stare at something dumbfounded, thinking is that really happening? That was me as I stared at my stove which at that moment was shooting fairly high flames from the one burner. I just stood there. At this point my oldest daughter sees the fire and starts crying hysterically and because she's crying my younger daughter starts crying. The dog starts barking. And I'm just standing there. Not helping with the fire, not calming the girls, not sending anybody outside. Finally I say, "Throw flour on it. That's what we did in college when the stove caught on fire." At this point, he's already smothering it with a wet dishrag. It's of course my nice decorative one I have set out.
My next words are, "You're using my good towel!" At this point the look my husband gives me is enough to get me to at least move. He had it under control so I went to sit on the couch with the two girls. Then on top of the crying and barking dog, the annoying sound of the fire alarm started.
That was Tuesday. On Wednesday, while my husband was at class and I was trying to clean up the dishes from the night before in order to heat us all up leftovers because again it was getting towards 800 since Averi had dance that night. The girls were playing together wonderfully. Even Averi stressed to me how well they were playing. Kenz comes in as I'm finishing up something with cleaning, and I pick her up. And FREAK out! Averi had cut her beautiful curls off into a mullet! My baby did not even have an inch of hair left on the top or side of her head. Every time I look at my poor baby I just want to cry. I know it's hair and it'll grow back, but I love her curls! Averi knew I was upset and spent a good half hour crying, and when my poor husband came home from class at 800 he had to do some emergency haircutting because Averi cut her hair as well. Let me just say as a mother, when we do screw up because we weren't paying attention, don't start with the "what were you doing?" "weren't you watching them?" I don't need the criticism. I feel bad enough as it is. No one that was a mother themselves said one critical thing; it of course came from a nonmother.
Today, minus the fact that something was up with my contacts this morning, is going okay. Of course I haven't made it home yet. I'm pretty sure I put my contacts in the wrong eyes this morning. They were making me dizzy and causing me a massive headache so again my husband came to the rescue (this guy is starting to deserve a medal at this point) and brought me new ones. I thought the problem was all fixed except I could not see right out of my left eye. It was even worse than before so three hours after I get to work I go to take them out again. The life of a teacher; if you're not passed out or gushing blood it's hard to do anything outside of planning time. I take it out. I take out the first one in my left eye and then I take out the second one in my left eye. That's right. I put my new contact in my eye right over the top of my old one.
It's at this point that I'm starting to think maybe I need a keeper. I'm a hot mess. Some days I may be a half a step ahead of crazy but I think at some point this week I just crossed over to crazy. My vision is always to be the graceful trapeze artist but weeks like this really show how maybe the goofy clown is a better analogy to my balance of motherhood.
Averi's haircut after her dad fixed it.
Kenzi's haircut courtesy of her sister
Hugs mama! I think every mom has had a point where their children have done something crazy, cutting hair, eating lipstick, coloring on walls. We can not watch them like a hawk 24/7 . Think of it as a learning experience for them. They learn from pastexperiences and they were practicing independent play.
ReplyDeleteTGIF. Hope you have a relaxing uneventful weekend.