Have you been wondering how life with 4 kids is? Wondering how we are handling the transition? No? Well, I’m going to tell you anyway: it’s hard. I thought it would be no big deal, but it’s a deal. Maybe not a big one, but a “deal” nonetheless. It’s not “become a mom” hard or “learn to balance two kids instead of one” hard, but there are definitely some moments when I want to throw a big ole tantrum. And there are other moments when I do throw a big ole tantrum.
Today I decided I could not spend one more moment locked in my home with my kids and no real human interaction. (Sure, my kids are technically human, but we all know they don’t count when it comes to sanity.) It took me forfreakingever to get out of the house because leaving the house takes SO MUCH longer with 4 kids than it did with 3. We’ve only added one little bitty baby to our family but we’ve added at least 3 hours to our leave time. So, we spent 3 hours getting dressed and brushing teeth and shushing the baby and breaking up fights and yelling “get your shoes on” over and over and over so that we could go to…… the car wash. Yep. The one place my kids can remain buckled into their car seats and feel like they had a little bit of fun. They have “fun” and I walk away feeling like I accomplished something because now my van is clean and there are no longer goldfish crumbs everywhere.
I got to the car wash and realized I was sweating because I forgot to put on deodorant. So, now I’m feeling disgusting on top of absolutely hideous and huge. With how long it takes getting everyone out of the house, I have no time to dye my (very gray) hair or put on makeup or straighten my (very ethnic) hair. I have no time to do any of the things that make me feel feminine and pretty and human. My husband is either a huge liar or going blind. He is still grabby and he still seems to love me and he still seems to think I am attractive. I ask him not to look at me as I change clothes because I know I look gross but he still looks and he still seems to love me despite my arms full of cellulite and my floppy stomach.
Anyway, back to the car wash, as I’m vacuuming the car and feeling human and feeling like I can do all the things I glance at sleeping Juliet. And I see it. It. The thing that reminds me that I cannot do all things. I cannot even do the bare minimum it seems. I see crud behind her ear. Not the kind of crud she just got a minute ago playing, but the kind that has been festering for days (weeks? months?) because her mother can remember to yell at the kids to stop yelling but her mother cannot remember to wash behind her ears.
I am in charge of so much. There are 6 people in my family and I am in charge of cutting 5 of their nails and toenails. It’s just too much. So many fingernails. So many. I buckle under the pressure. Things fall through the cracks, like Juliet’s hygiene. And, so, I went through the Burger King drive thru and ordered a whopper (because what else does a woman who complains about her body do? It’s not like I can/will actually do something about the thing I complain about. That’s too much work and I don’t have the energy or the time.)
For your viewing pleasure I took a picture of said whopper (but only after I took a bite because I’m a glutton). And, so, today I had a moment of victory (clean car) followed quickly by a moment of defeat (dirty toddler). And, so goes motherhood.
Diana Divulges 