I have a laundry list of things to complete on any given day. Every damn day. And guess what? I almost never accomplish my whole list. I may cross things off my list each day, but the next day things are added and it just builds. And so does my anxiety level. I took a long hard look at my day and I think I know why.
Every morning the alarm goes off and I snooze. I know they say it isn’t good for you, blah blah blah…but if I could just get 5 more minutes I would be golden. Right? Once I get moving, I feel better, especially once I get my makeup on. Concealer and eye brightener are my best friends, y’all. Eli (10 months) is awake before I am done, so I hurriedly throw my clothes on so I can go retrieve him because he will.not.wait. Playing in his crib? Oh, hellll no. Wait, is my shirt on backwards?
Eli is hungry but decided he is in protest of the bottle. I fight with him for a few minutes and decide he can get the milk in his oatmeal. Let’s wake up Jude (3.5 years). This part of the morning I actually love, and so do both boys. They lay in bed together for a few minutes and enjoy the time. But once I tell Jude it’s time to get dressed, the negotiations begin. Two minute warning! One more minute! Damn it to hell, that kid is just like me. All through breakfast, I am standing up and eating while feeding Eli. Jude, take a bite of you waffle. Jude, take a bite of your waffle. Sit on your butt before you fall. I am going to take Optimus Prime away if you can’t eat. Sit on your butt. Take a bite of your waffle.
Crap, we’re late. So much for throwing a load of towels in the wash and tidying up the kitchen. Puffs and waffle crumbs on the floor? Whatevs.
Small window to get it done
I typically have one hour between dropping off the kids and when I have to be at work. Today, I need hydrocortisone cream for my random allergic reaction (yes, it’s super fun), bananas, a birthday gift and snacks for Eli. Hmmm…where can I get all that? Target. That’s it, I HAVE to go to Target. Ooohh, the $1 spot. Easter basket loot central. Ooooh, new clothes. Another pair of leggings and a St. Patrick’s Day shirt? Yes, I need that. Oooh, throw pillows are on sale. Damnit, I have to be at work in 10 minutes. I hustle through the store to get the items I really came for. $100 later, I’m nearly late to work and I totally forgot I had to go to the bank.
There just are not enough hours
I am blessed to only be obligated to being at work for 5 hours each day. But as we all know, it rarely pans out to just that. I own and operate my business so I wear multiple hats. I arrive to work to discover some loser has tracked dirt EVERYWHERE. It’s like they tried to figure out how many places they could walk to dirty up the gym and eff with my day. Two hours later, the place is sparkling but I am thirsty, hungry and knee deep in paperwork. I work through my lunch, manage to accomplish some things, then realize it’s quitting time. I have 30 minutes to squeeze in a quick workout before picking up the kids. Ha! I did something.
Moms know what this is. All out chaos, madness, this sh*t is bananas. B-a-n-a-n-a-s. I attempt to cook with Eli at my feet and Jude whining about everything. Since Eli learned to crawl (military style, like Lt. Dan in Forrest Gump), he loves to crawl over to me when I am busy and proceed to lie at my feet on his back and just cry. It’s pitiful, really. Jude is distraught because Netflix isn’t working, and he can’t watch Super Hero Squad over and over. And he simply cannot understand why cookies and fruit snacks do not constitute as a meal. Sweet baby Jesus, can I drink wine yet? Fast forward a few hours and three meltdowns later (I may have been one of them) and the children are in bed. I ate my dinner standing up (geez, do I ever sit down to eat?) and lunches are made. Success!
The towels still need to be washed; the kitchen still needs to be cleaned. I feel like nearly every aspect of my life is a hot mess. A huge cluster of disorganization. In my head, my house and life looks like a Pinterest post. Ha, more like a Pinterest project #epicfail. I need a fairy godmother, stat. But as they say, I showered today and kept the kids alive. So that’s a good day.