Tuesday, March 28, 2017

A Slow Torture

Spring Break is upon us, and also the end of March which is synonymous with the end of paid help for me.  We had always planned to have paid help since we knew our kids were close in age, young and active, and because due to living in SLC, it doesn't make sense for my MIL to visit and stay with us (aka be with us 24/7 for a week or so), and my own mom would not make the trip out and would rather give me money for paid help.  So paid help we had!  And it was glorious.

But now that has all ended and our home is in a constant state of disarray.  We did manage to kickoff the week with Spring Cleaning as a family!  Cooper gave us about 30 minutes of sanity while we wiped down the wood blinds, the chair rails, the base boards, the ceiling fans, and my kids' favorite: the windows (only the sliding door and the big window in the front because have you seen our old windows?).  We cheered together, "1...2...3.. spring clean!!!" and despite Bubba's initial reluctance to participate in our cheer, we did it and Jordan later told me, "Mom, that was fun - thanks for including me and letting me help."  Did sweeter words ever come out of my 5 year old's mouth?!

But then I wanted to also do the dishes, and a load of laundry, and vacuum my entertainment area downstairs, and that was too ambitious given one demanding baby who wanted to be held after 30 minutes of being on his own.  Of course, we did make it out of the house for Dagny's dance class, something she looks forward to every week.  But as we pulled up and saw no cars in the lot, a sinking feeling that I had missed a memo somewhere (did I get a text, I might have recalled getting one, but it slipped my mind at that precise moment... and the 30 minutes prior as we were getting everyone ready and out the door) hit.  So I bribed my kids with a trip to McDonald's, happy meals, and a playground, and ate away my miserable existence and prayed we had no poop incidents.  At least the cheeseburger was good.  And they now have cuties with Happy Meals, so that was exciting too.

Back home, it was the same struggle to get Cooper to sleep, referee the kicking and bullying between  my kids (it varies between the three), and then wonder where the heck everyone was while I nursed Cooper in my room.  I changed about three times from spit up.... I did manage to get dinner going, but in the midst of the very slow torture of a day, I didn't think I would be able to.  I just had to get it done even if Cooper was right there crying as loud and as hard as he could.

Andy made it home in time to sear the sous vide chicken thighs I had made earlier (while Cooper screamed bloody murder), scarfed down that and some roasted asparagus with whatever bread we had left, and then he was off to take the boys to gymnastics.  I tried to relax a bit with Dagny and Cooper but then he wanted to eat again and then he wouldn't let me clean and cried again and again.  So Dagny took a bath while I held Cooper, then put him down, then picked him up when he cried again, and that cycle repeated itself consistently (at least he's consistent) in the hour that the big boys and Andy were gone.

So once Andy was home and we put the boys to bed.. I thought... should I go work out?  And I really wanted to lose the baby weight so off I went, but not before changing my mind five times, and trying on five different work out outfits, all of which seemed to pinch right at the base of my explosive muffin top.  It's depressing.  But I went and watched my stomach jiggle everytime I jumped up and down, thinking... I can do this... I can do this... and then I went home, took a much needed shower (how long has it been...?), spent some time with Andy, and ended the night cradling and nursing my chunk of hunk fourth baby while watching an episode of The Middle and wondering what tomorrow would bring.

And that was Monday.  Would Tuesday be any better?

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