One cry and I lose my brain

All it takes is one thing and I lose my brain. All I had to do was leave my house ready to go to the gym. Sounds simple. But, it actually is otherwise impossible. My friend came over 1st to watch my kids so I could go to the gym and 2nd to hang out and watch some of our shows together and eat dinner. She is great! When hubby is away somethings are so much more difficult. As if the gym is the place I want to escape to- no that would be Nordstrom in my previous body with spending money or the spa for anything this size or otherwise! But, when I have to plan for it- it usually is a pain and something goes wrong.
This time I was the problem. Baby new I was leaving and cried. The crying sent my senses into a whirlwind and I lost track of what needed to be done. I started to feel like I looked like (can you keep up) a chicken with it's head cut off. The baby cried like he was in pain. I made it worse by having to refill my water bottle right behind him, and get my socks from my room past the hall where he could see me and just take too long to get the hell out of the house.
Once outside I thought my gym bra was in the dryer- I was wrong- so instead of dealing with crying baby 2009- I went without it (they're already sagging from breastfeeding- am I really doing more damage?
Half way to the gym I remember that I have not changed my tampon in a bit. I can't actually remember when I did change it last. So, it was probably time to do so- I search my purse- nope. Nothing.
At this point I just keep going.
Just a simple thing like sports bra and tampon can be the most difficult things to get right. Thank goodness my boobs are no longer the big D's and the gym had free tampons. You know if they were selling them I would probably find my wallet free of change. Naturally.

Perception

I am almost always with the kids. It is rare that I don't have them to do such things as go grocery shopping, present shopping, taking the garbage out even taking a shower. They are always there. And 9 times out of 10 they one of them is being wacky. (By wacky I mean yelling crazy or crying or screaming.) Monday was no different. We went grocery shopping- just the three of us- in the light drizzle of the morning. I offered my toddler the fun cart, one in which he gets to drive. He was excited and as I was putting the baby in i was hoisting the diaper bag onto the cart floor, holding the baby, watching the toddler so he didn't run into the parking lot and some how put the cart cover on for the baby. I thought I was out of the way, and out of the rain when an older gentleman gets his cart and stops. Then he approaches us- in the past older gentleman have made not the best comments so I was ready to just ignore the old fellow- when he asked me if I needed any help. Of course I perked up right away, changed my voice from frustrated mommy to nice lady and smiled, said no thank you and continued with what I was doing. He then replied: "I don't know how you woman do it. It seems that you have so many more hands then us men." I needed that laugh. What a great way to start my day. Unfortunately that was my highlight as 2 minutes later the toddler didn't want that cart so we transferred to a regular one and 5 minutes after that and for the remainder of the shopping trip I had 1 baby who began to cry and 1 yelling toddler unhappy about his cart choice who eventually stopped screaming when I picked him up while feed a bottle to the baby and pushing the cart- I can totally see the many hands comment. I sometimes feel like Vishnu looks (without any religious affiliation). At this time he, the toddler, was so disraught over the cart situation and had bawled so much he proceeded to pee on me then tell me he hadn't while I was still holding him. With my grocery shopping 75% finished, I set him down, and finished shopping. I was not about to abandon cart at this late juncture no was I about to leave without a quarter of my needed items. We finished shopping him with wet pants that were completely undetectable and my with my large wet stain completely noticable.
Apparently, I needed more help that morning then I had thought.

Time

I don't have any.
I want time to pee without anyone calling for me, yelling for me, crying, screaming, coloring on the carpet or peeing on themselves.
When do I get time- between 9 pm and midnight. When I should be napping so as to be ready for the 2, 4:30 and 5am wakings. Not to mention the 3am "mommy" call to get into my bed. Although, I know for a fact he can get in by himself.

All I want for Christmas is a break.
And a clean house that doesn't smell like urine in bedroom corners and in the main bathroom.
And enough money left over at the end of the month to enjoy shopping somewhere aside from the regular cheap, buy one season, wear it, stain it, shrink it and throw it away the next.
And...peace and quiet time.
And my old body back with someone else's nose and children and a husband who enjoy seeing mommy happy instead of getting sheer delight in making me go bonkers.
Maybe I don't need time so much as an alcohol addiction or a housekeeper/nanny or a winning lottery ticket or the peanuts music playing the background of my life so I can just get up and dance by kicking my feet out randomly.
Nope, just more time...
And a margarita.

Is it bed time yet?

I've got a busy morning. Up 4 times last night with the baby- still unsure why. Four in my bed by 12:32 is not the most comfortable night sleep, when I got some. But, when I got up and began to chug a long I realized I had much to do before taking the kids to the 2's class.
I had to make or buy 12 cookies
Cut up, brown and put together dinner in the crock pot
Change the monkey
Feed the baby
Grab the library books- since it is on our way
Take a shower
Put gas in the car
Laundry
Breakfast maybe? Coffee for sure.
Less than 2 hours to accomplish it all
Yeah right!
No shower, or gas for the car, lovely ape changed the monkey- add a baby diaper change.
No problem I was smiling and all was well. Then the Ape left to work and...
Then the shit hit the fan!!!!!!!!!!
As I was trying to get dressed the baby got snippy then cranky, then nuts.
I got changed, put the baby in the car seat and he was rip roaring pissed! But, what could I do we were already late.
The monkey was watching a morning cartoon and when I reminded him that we needed to go to his class and I shut off the television...BOOM! He began crying and stomping.
2 kids- both crying their eyes out. The little one was even turning purple and choking on his saliva. What the hell! Why is this so damn difficult?
I grab them, pushing and screaming-me that is- and I grab my keys to get the garage door open. Why would my keys be attached to my key chain with the whole neighborhood echoing in shrill tears-why, why,WHY GOD, WHY!!!!!!!!!!
I have completely lost it.
Why when daddy was home everybody was just trucking along like the day was going to be great. But, as soon as he gets in his car it's like fucking Armageddon in here, and I'm not sure who the God character is being played by.
I find the keys, calm the monkey down, and deal with the purple faced baby.
We get in the garage, I manage to lose the keys again, and then we go.
The car ride is calming.
The class is usual. Half chaotic because of the one 2 year old who's constantly runs around and doesn't like to clean up- yes of course that would be my kid.
As we leave my gas light goes on- no problem the gas station is 1/4 mile away. Easy, except that for some reason it is shut down. Okay. 1/2 mile later the next gas station is also closed. W H A T? Lucky number 3 is open and close to us.
Lastly, at least so far, I cleaned, put the baby down for a nap, feed the monkey and was getting my piece of R and R - 1 minute in the bathroom with a book- yes this is my only daily time to myself. As soon as I get in there- my sister gets into my house. What does my monkey do when she asks: "Where's mommy?" The monkey runs into the hall, opens the bathroom door and yells "Right here!" And that was when my time to myself ended. I don't get to do anything by myself and thank God it was only my sister. Then the Ape called and added to my chore list. It's 3 o'clock is it bed time yet?

This isn't what I was dreaming about

A weekend alone.
No kids.
Wine that flows like water in a ever abundant ocean.
No kids.
A king sized bed, an in-room spa, dinner reservations.
No kids.
I'm thinking quiet, tipsy, sleeping in, slower pace, not having to leave conversation to change a diaper.
Kisses and holding hands with my love-the great ape that he is...

That is what I was dreaming about...
Instead I got...
1am pee wake up
5am pee wake up and my boobs are as hard as boulders trying to break out of my soft tired skin.
6:24am and I can't take it any longer. I need relief.
No pump, no baby, relief?
I sit on the toilet and try to express milk-drop,drop,drop.
OK.
This will take all morning.
6:30 and I'm in a slightly coldish shower, milk bags so full I can't raise my arms above my shoulders. Like McCain, but curvier.
I'm never going to get back to sleep- no sleeping in- no way.
It's 6:30 in the morning and I'm milking myself like a milk maid.
Just 1 stomach and a wet nose away from becoming a mooing barnyard animal.

Ahh-romantic weekends away from the kids.

Yuck!

Snotty baby, sick toddler and I am already going nuts. I'm wearing the a pair of jeans that make the fat if my stomach over flow above the waist-it's disgusting! My options are 1 left over maternity t-shirt or a multi stained knit top. The frustration in boiling over- I through on the stained top, yell at the husband, grab the kids and leave in a haste to the peds appointment. Of course young good looking doctor in training appears- as if I didn't already feel out of sorts. Good thing he's married and I'm married to a good looking mister myself or I might have felt embarrassed for leaving the house looking like Jabba the Hutt.

My eyes look like a raccoon. Boy started throwing up all over the place right before his bed time and nobody got all real sleep. He looked at me, pacifier still in his mouth and spewed. It got on the loveseat, on the flour in front of the loveseat, on the baby pajamas I had just folded on the loveseat-lots of love going on here-on my pants and some how on my underwear just above and to the right of my butt crack. I still don't know how that happened. Then every inch from chair to hall to bathroom rug to -thats it there was no more puck when he finally arrived at the toilet. Exactly 2cm short of having enough. And then every 20 minutes until 2 am. And now the house stinks like vomit.

The Ape tries to help my morning by making the doctors appointment of the kids and for some unknown reason this sets me off. I get zero chance to shower or eat so I smell, I'm tired and I look like I was diving in a dumpster. This day is already too much for me to handle. And its only noon.

Yesterday I took the family out to buy mommy some pants that actually fit so I can leave the house with some bits of dignity. I got one pair. I started looking for a sweater too since it is getting chilly- but the Ape said that $40 was too much to spend on a sweater-I own a $900 purse-so we looked for those that were more reasonable but there weren't any. How sad is that when I can't afford a sweater at a discount retail chain. And when I made a comment that it wasn't about price but since I am fat I should be cold- he agreed! Fat people should be cold! Lucky for him I knew he wasn't paying attention and when he realized the whole he was in tried to get himself out. It was useless- I just wanted him to tell me to get the damn sweater-it didn't work so I didn't care about apologies. I hate when confusing him doesn't quite work in my favor.

Fat, cold, stained, smelly, snotty-yuck!

Why are you doing the dishes?

A mother's work is NEVER done.
Usually, I take care of my two sons and myself.
Difficult but in some respects easier then dealing with all four of us.
My house is cleaner when it is just the 3 of us, I'm more motivated to clean after the kids go to bed and no buddy second guesses the way I load the dishwasher.
Unlike, lets say today, when what was I doing after the boys were put to bed but...washing the dishes that didn't fit into the dishwasher. How absurd a thing-I know. Cleaning a mess-what was I thinking! As I'm washing the Ape strolls in and asks me what I'm doing.

Hmm, lets see how should I answer that:
- changing my rough hands into leather
-tracking the time it takes to get a backache
-wasting time before dying
But, no I settle with just telling him what I am actually doing- as if he couldn't see.

Then I ask for...you guessed it the bitchiest thing- I ask for help in putting away dry dishes from the dish rack. He sighed and put away a few top items then tried to skip out on me like the task was done and my kingdom was settled.
I stop and say "what about the rest" and he nearly had a convulsion at the idea of putting away the actual items so I could, I don't know, put the wet dishes on to dry.
He thinks that when the dishwasher is full the dishes are done for the day. But, the sink was full, the dishwasher was full and the counter had items on it too. God forbid I might want some help so the kitchen gets clean-I mean he knows I do it everyday. I clean the same things, the same way everyday. And everyday that he is around he bitches and complains and asks the same question: "What are you doing."
WHYYYYY are you asking me that same question, again. You know.
I clean, I cook, I take the toddler to classes with the baby affixed to my chest while squatting down at the monkeys eye level for 45 minutes, I read books aloud, I make grocery lists, change diapers, check our diminishing account, fret over our diminishing account, clean peed on floors, scrub stained carpets, give baths, play football, run after my nude monkey going up the street while taking out the bathroom trash, get spit up on, listen tor crying as if it's a rock and roll symphony, and plan tomorrows menus all while trying to suck in the fat to maybe look attractive if I'm at angle and you squint from 20 feet away- what the fuck do you think I'm doing.
I"M CLEANING THE KITCHEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Me wife, not maid- you here, YOU HELP.


Got to love him!