The day started out inocuously enough, one adult, one toddler and one infant made it out the door by five to nine. No screaming, no threats, no nothin'. I should have known. Today was my first day helping out in the nursery at school. There are four children to two adults and we watch the babies while their older siblings attend class. Eloise, depsite being woken up quite early to make it to school on time, didn't nap while we were at the nursery. As we all piled back into the station wagon to come home from school, the screaming commenced. It hasn't stopped since.
As we drove through the hordes of high school kids who had been released for lunch I looked at them and thought about my red faced baby wailing in the back seat of the car. We are a essentially a birth control show on wheels. "Hey, you want this life? I didn't THINK so! Stop having sex already!" We get home and I foolishly start believing that because my sweet little poopsy doopsy woke up early, didn't nap all morning and then bawled her eyes out the drive home, she would be good and ready for a loooonngggg nap. Ohhhhhh, no. After rocking and rocking and rocking, I finally get her to stay asleep after being laid down. I decide to take a moment of peace and sit down to check my email. Iris then starts screaming that she wants to "play dishes" which is toddler speak for "I want to splash water all over the entire kitchen and mess up every single clean dish in the dish rack!" I tell her I need her to wait until the show Miffy is over and that mama needs a few minutes to relax before taking on another project. The crying, the tantrums, the snot and tears, exploding all over the living room. I should have just let her play with the damn dishes. It surely took WAY more energy to "take a moment to myself" than to just start letting her wreck the kitchen. Of course, I told her we needed to wait until Miffy was over before playing dishes, so I was sticking to it, damn it! Miffy ends. Dish playing begins. Oooo, here is a moment I can use to make dinner! Ah, right. Three minutes in to dinner making, the baby wakes up, screaming. I take her out of bed and get her to stay reasonably happy for the next five minutes so I can throw stuff in a crock pot. I then get the ridiculous idea we can run to the grocery store to pick up some items I still needed for dinner. Oh, silly mama. Silly, silly, silly mama. Well, we never made it to the grocery store. The baby started screaming, again (are you keeping score?) and then Iris starts screaming. Something about Play-Doh. I couldn't really tell. I was trying to hard not let the steam building up inside of me blow my head right off my shoulders. The dual screaming lasts for a bit, not really knowing who to comfort first, I sort of flail around half-comforting, half mumbling explitives under my breath, no one is any happier. I decide to let Eloise continue to cry because in order to calm her down I will need to bounce her. Furiously. Simply holding her on my lap will not do, and Iris needs to have her diaper changed and in to her jammies (don't ask why she insists on jammies for nap time) and then nursed so she can go down for her nap. Toddler settled, in to bed. Baby bounced. Furiously. She has just dozed off. I am blogging in order to feel somewhat connected to a world outside of the house of wailing.
I need to start a mama's support group at the local pub. Seriously. How do mothers get through their children's early years without drinking?