Why I Deserve Mom of the Year :: A Day in My Life

This post could also be entitled “why the baby book for child #3 never ever gets done.”

After you spend just one day with me {and my crazy brood of 3}, I am certain you will agree that I am an incredible mom. If by incredible, we mean barely-hanging-on-by-a-thread-and-only-still-functioning-because-of-friends-and-the-promise-of-wine.

Before you read, know this. I need no criticism for the less than stellar parts of the day. I am – like you – my own worst critic.

A Day in My Life

6:00am :: hear what sounds like my offspring via the fancy monitor that the best parents have. Put pillow over my head and roll over. As I doze in and out of pretend sleep, hear cute baby babble. It doesn’t sound too ominous and only comes every 8 minutes or so. More “sleep” it is.

6:40am :: check my phone and social media. Think about getting up and making the kids waffles. Decide waffles are overrated. Lay in bed a little longer.

6:52am :: drag myself (and my tattered pajama pants and baggy t-shirt – your husband is jealous of mine) out of bed. Throw on “workout clothes.” Are they workout clothes when you don’t workout? Hmmm. My wardrobe went awry when I started working from home and birthing babies.Medal

7:08am :: pop a diet coke. Check my phone again before bracing for the hurricane that is the morning routine with 3 under 3. Deep breath. I can DO this.

7:10am :: assemble the troops in my daughters’ room. Nurse the five month old while my naked two year old throws every blasted stuffed animal out of the crib. Yell at the two year old to SIT DOWN YOUNG LADY when one chunky leg goes over the rail. Give my son the side eye when he chooses sweatpants that are 1980s hand me downs (I wish I was kidding) and a Saints jersey to wear. Dude, the Saints were a joke this year. And the season’s over. Keep those thoughts to myself. Choose to allow him to “express himself” and pat myself on the back for instilling confidence. Baby finishes nursing so the two year old is let out of her cage. After ripping off tags, dress the girls in two of the 600 smocked dresses I had.to.have. Investment pieces, y’all.

7:23am :: realize the dog is barking to come in. Ignore.

7:28am :: throw Cheerios and milk in go cups and give the 3 year old a scream lecture about being responsible for his own things and no I don’t know where his sunglasses and “hat to keep the sun out of my eyes” are. Gather school bags, teacher gifts and a million other things, balance the baby carrier and set the house alarm. I’m like Superwoman up in here. Friend calls. Answer.

7:29am :: crap. The dog is still outside. Undo alarm. Throw a treat in the general direction of the dog while reassuring a friend that her marriage is not, in fact, dysfunctional. Reset alarm. Chase the two year old while the alarm beeps loudly in the background. Apologize to friend for yelling into the phone.

7:32am :: all 3 kids are safely buckled in their car seats. We rear face until we don’t rear face any more. This is usually when another baby arrives, requiring a reconfiguration of the car seats which apparently you need a nuclear physics degree to figure out.

7:34am :: arrive at school. Realize only one child goes to school today and cry silently to myself. Acknowledge no one eats anything of substance in a 2 minute ride to school so I did, in fact, just send my child to school with no breakfast. Good thing there’s snack at 8:30am.


7:35am through 12:30pm :: a comedy of errors juggling a wild 2 year old who can #climballthethings and a 5 month old who hates being put down. Basically I served as jungle gym, camp counselor, housekeeper, restaurant waitress and diaper changer … while trying to field a few phone calls and emails for my business. The mornings tend to be one giant blur. Like a hamster on a wheel in a hurricane.


1:03pm :: all kids are home and settling in for “quiet time.” Yes, I am in fact a genius because I can get 3 kids to be quiet for 2 hours simultaneously. What? You can’t?

1:17pm :: the 2 year old is jumping in her crib as though it were a trampoline. The baby is wide eyed, showing no signs of sleep. The 3 year old is tantruming over wanting to watch the Tooooooooooy Collector. What is it with those toy videos on YouTube?! Decide to check 2 year old’s diaper.

1:19pm :: diagnose 2 year old with dirty diaper. That’s a relief. With a clean diaper she’ll pass right out. Tell the 3 year old he’s absolutely not having the iPad because clearly we have technology limits in this house and he can find something quiet to do. We have puzzles and colors and blocks. Quiet time is for learning, yo.

1:28pm :: this 2 year old of ours sure is creative! She’s now turned her crib into a bounce house. She will move mountains one day. Tire yourself out, little one. And the answer to the iPad is NOOOOOO. We have limits. Quiet time is for using your imagination. Baby is drifting off into a peaceful slumber. We are moments from mom rockstar status.

1:46pm :: hmmm. We are now heading into the 2-year-old-might-not-nap territory. Efffffff.

Momofyear1:56pm :: another dirty diaper?! What did they feed you at school?? Oh wait, you were home today and I fed you. Gah! In an exasperated voice tell the 3 year old to take the blasted iPad already and just be quiet. (We were never under any circumstances sharing that iPad with kids. Ahem.) Give myself a gold star for positively reinforcing relentless whining.

2:02pm :: baby closes those sweet little eyes. Lay her down.

2:06pm :: Turn the volume down on the monitor because the 2 year old is scream talking to Elsa in her crib. But she’s minutes from sleep. Definitely.

2:12pm :: baby is done napping.

2:43pm :: we are 0 for 3 on “quiet time” folks! A really phenomenal mom knows when to throw in the towel and wave the white flag.

3:12pm :: load the car because no one can escape or make a mess in the car. Drive to Chick Fil A. Order fries and milkshakes for the kids because dad is working late. Another gold star for handing out treats for fun. More bonus points for fast food. Once, in another life, my kids were fed all organic free range chicken and veggies galore. Actually the 3 year old doesn’t even eat chicken so that’s probably not true.

4:08pm :: create a wholesome picnic situation on our dirty kitchen floors. Yup, 4:00 is the new 5:00 and sometimes we eat “dinner” then. Wonder when the last time I mopped was. Let the kids decorate daddy’s birthday cards. This family is so full of love, y’all. Bonus points to me for involving stickers.

4:37 – 4:44pm :: politely ask the older 2 to stop running in circles 56372 times. Apparently I’m taking purely to hear myself talk. Brownie points for staying calm, though.

4:49pm :: eat the cold french fries the kids didn’t touch. My pre-baby clothes are out of style anyway.

4:52pm :: chocolate milkshake disaster 2k14. Mommy loses it. “Do you know how lucky you are to get milkshakes, kids??? You are never ever ever getting one ever again for your entire life!!!” Giggles from the kids. Score one for (in)effective parenting, and I’ll take “threats I never plan to follow through with for $200, Alex.”

5:07pm :: bathtime. An hour early. Points for being ahead of schedule.

5:58pm :: desperate texts to the husband regarding the hostage situation. I’m ALSO wife of the year.

5:59pm :: hello? Is anyone reading my texts??

6:00pm :: hello? I’m literally in the depths of toddler hell…

6:02pm :: great. Now I’m officially crazy wife AND mom.

6:08pm :: 3 year old says “damnit” when asked to put his pajamas on.

6:12pm :: 2 year old whacks baby on head with electric toothbrush.

6:15pm :: husband says it may be a while. Executive decision that 6:20pm is bedtime.

6:16pm :: 2 year old and 3 year old chasing each other through the wet bathroom, creating a dangerous slip and slide / ice skating scenario. Bedtime moved up to 6:17pm. Points for thinking on my feet and making fast decisions.

6:18pm :: night night, kids. Kiss kiss. Mommy loves you. Even more so when you’re sleeping.

6:18 and a half :: 2 year old down as the result of no nap. We’re 33.3% there.

6:19 – 6:42pm :: ignore pleas from 3 year old for agua. Apparently if you scream in Spanish some moms respond? Not this one. Especially after you just had water before going to your room. But points for raising bilingual kids at least.

6:43pm :: nurse the baby.

6:46pm :: the pleas from my bilingual toddler stop. 66.6% there. We got this.

6:58pm :: bingo. Baby’s out.

7:02pm :: wine. All of the wine. You win, Wednesday, you win. But Thursday? I will kick your butt.

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Ashley is the Co-Owner of New Orleans Mom, Red Stick Mom and Lafayette Mom, now the largest network of parenting websites in South Louisiana. Proud graduates of the University of Virginia, she and her husband Blaise spent time in Tampa and Scottsdale prior to settling down back home in New Orleans, something they both said "would never happen." An avid runner, she'll try any workout at least once and is always up for sweating with friends. When she’s not shuttling her 3 very active kids to school, gymnastics or baseball, you can find her cheering for the Saints, trying new restaurants or spending time with family and friends. She's also not afraid to return mediocre books to the library before finishing them because life is too short for bad books. A native New Orleanian, Ashley loves exploring and discovering the beauty of South Louisiana through her growing children's eyes.

3 COMMENTS

  1. This is hilarious and spot on! Thank you for an accurate portrayal of being a mom, it’s not a glamourous job. Hats off to you for managing 3! You never truly understand patience until you’re watching your toddler throw his dinner on the floor for the 5th night in a row because he’s “all done” after 2 bites while trying to soothe/nurse a 2 month old bottomless pit while screaming “serenity now” in your head!

  2. Yes, thank you! I thought I was the only one who lived somewhat like this and I only have two so far. My eldest is 7, so he’s in school all day and fairly self sufficent (by 7yo standards), but I also have a 9mo and I’m due in March with our 3rd. I know things are going to get really crazy really fast come March, but it’s nice to know I’m not alone.

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