I just pulled a nob from a drawer out of my 9 month olds mouth. Just two seconds later he had a whole chicken nugget shoved in there from my 3 years olds lunch that fell on the floor-yesterday. He’s also eaten a piece of chalk, tissue, and a piece of what looked like dog food but I can’t be sure. I swear I don’t know how he finds this stuff. He has a baby radar for items that will surely choke him. I once walked in to see a whole toy shoved completely in his mouth and he’s just sitting there watching Bubble Guppies unaware of how dumb he looks. I constantly find him sitting between the TV stand and jagged rocky fireplace of which I call the “death corner”. I don’t understand what his fascination is with trying to kill himself on daily basis. He’s a baby living on the edge I presume.
What they say is true, if you can make it through the day without bad injury or death upon your child, you are doing good as a mother. It puts fear into me should I ever have to work. How the hell are daycare workers supposed to prevent death of my child when there are 25 of those death finding rugrats abound? I struggle to keep them alive and I only have two!
The age old question that husbands ask us, “ What did YOU do all day?”. Well do you see both of your kids? Then, I did my job. I never knew how hard a job was until I aquired this one. As I sit here writing this with one eye lurking left to make sure one doesn’t suffocate themselves under a blanket, I have full blown anxiety that I’m about to have to get up and dash to the next baby emergency. Baby emergencies include falling down and smacking their head on the corner of a table that we taped with sanitary pads just to protect the inevitable “eye to the corner” fall.
Baby emergencies also include the “he-stole-my-car-that-I-was-playing-with-2 days ago-so-he-cant-have-it” traumas. My day is full of being on high alert mostly on kid drama. For instance, you are finally 3 dishes in when you hear a blood-curdling scream— HOLD THAT THOUGHT, my kid just put on his pullup all by himself! Its on backwards and a bit sideways, but proud mommy moment nonetheless!— Sorry, okay where was I? Oh yea, you hear that blood curdling scream and you take off running with all the images of blood and broken bones and thinking of what hospital you can make it to the fastest on foot since you have no car… you round the corner just in time to stub your toe and step on the most sharp toy ever… “Mommy, Tow Mater is on tv!!! Can I have chocolate milk?” WHAT the fuck? I just almost killed myself coming in here for this? Of course I proceed to yell at him for yelling which makes no sense and then get him a damn chocolate milk because chocolate milk equals me finishing the dishes on the fourth try of the day.
Sure its going to spoil his lunch, he’ll refuse to eat the meal that requires cooking, dishes, more dishes, and cleaning up, but not before he asks me for a snack and we get into the daily argument of “ you cant have a snack if you don’t eat lunch!” But for the love of God just let me have 5 minutes of peace while I wash these dishes by hand. I don’t have a dishwasher like a normal human being. Maybe after all that I can pee in peace. I don’t remember the last time I closed the door while using the bathroom. I do remember getting up midstream because I thought one had found the knife drawer.
Don’t get me started on potty training. I heard it was hard. I didn’t hear that the dedication to the “oh holy throne” would be that of a law student studying for the bar. I didn’t know my days would be cleaning up piss and sitting on the floor of the bathroom bargaining with a 3 year old on how much candy he’ll get if he poops. I also didn’t know having a baby AND a kid in training would mean wiping a butt and looking over to see the baby with his mouth on the toilet seat. That’s a mom moment where you stop and think, I’m doing something wrong here.
I have noticed by the end of the day sometimes I can barely hear what my husband is saying to me when he gets home. I have to force my brain to comprehend once the kids are in bed. Regardless of what people think about SAHMs, our brain is constantly moving. Sure, we aren’t usually thinking of investing, economics, theory of relativity, or anything else remotely intellectual. We are thinking of how to get them to nap, how long they can go without bathing, wondering when the last time I bathed was, laundry, dishes, where did he put his water cup, when is the last time I cleaned the floor for “death items”, more dishes, breaking up sibling fights, what can I make for lunch he will eat, holding your “business” until one is asleep or locked in a baby bouncer, how did I run out of groceries so fast I have no food, need to make grocery list, convince my husband we need a padded room to put the kids in, making a mental list of all the things I didn’t accomplish while changing poop diapers, did I make that doctor’s appointment, I need to potty train this kid, where is that broom I just had, exactly how accurate is my 100% birth control, clean up those toys, baby needs a bottle, I need to make baby food, what does Cruze need, what am I doing with my life, I have no clue wants he’s saying…..can I have a break… It is a constant stream of thinking, it NEVER turns off. EVER. Maybe because you have to think for not only yourself but two other people.
Now, the children have a bedtime. I have managed to get both of them to sleep by 9:15. Those hours with my husband just drinking a cup of tea and reading or watching some of the news, are more than glorious. My brain can shut down, and that it does. I literally can’t understand what Kim Kardashian just said, it sounded so smart. My tired brain does not comprehend.
What I understand through all of this is that I love these kids so much the mere thought of anything happening to them shakes me to my soul. That’s why moms are constantly thinking, constantly on their toes until they close their eyes at night. I cant breathe without them. I couldn’t survive without them. It’s a constant fear of knowing I could be the reason for their unhappiness or the reason they don’t do good in school or trip and fall because they didn’t tie the shoe correctly. I keep them safe because they are part of me.
This job is high intense pressure. I don’t work on Wall street. I work on Barney street. My office is a room full of chaos, drool, and toys. I wipe butts and I wipe tears. I cater to a human that is half my size and louder than me. There is no paycheck or reward for keeping your kids alive and better yet, well adjusted. But that’s okay with me. As haywire of a day I can have, I made these beautiful kids, I continue to shape their minds and best of all I love them with every part of my being. Through it all our love never falters for these little beasts. They are my world and I hope one day they can laugh with me on the trials and tribulations of being their mom. I somehow snagged the best job in the world.