motherhood

The Toddler

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“Mommy, what’s that?”

“That’s a Death Star cookie jar.”

“I want that! Mommy, what’s that?”

“That’s a Chewbacca pillow.”

“I want that!”

“What’s that?  What’s that? MOMMY!  What’s that?”

“That’s a Boba Fett bobble-head doll.”

“Mommy, I want that! Mommy what’s that?”

“That’s a phone booth toy.”

We were at HMV this morning.  Husband was off looking for some Criterion Collection DVDs and I was on toddler duty. The store was pretty empty as it had just opened so we had the run of the store.  The toddler high-tailed it to the “toy section” and spent the next 10 agonizing minutes of my life with a game of 20 questions.

All this after a half-hour car ride which sounded like this:

“What’s that? Ooooh, treetcar! I want one. Daddy!  Look! A bus! Mommy!!  Mommy!!!!!!!  My boot fell ground! I want muffin! Daddy!! Bird, Daddy, look! What’s that, Mommy? Look, Mommy, a truck! I want one!”

Aren’t toddlers adorable?

I need a Tylenol.

 

 

 

 

The 10 on Tuesday

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Day 24 – National Blog Posting Month

How did my little baby girl suddenly turn 7 today? So much has happened to us in 7 short years, it is kind of scary to think about it all.

Daily blogging is great! Visitor counts and followers are up and I am surprised every day by where my visitors are coming from.

Winter seems just around the corner and I think I’m actually okay with that.

All I can think about is getting home and eating a birthday cupcake and snuggling with the birthday girl.

I can already feel I’m starting to burn out and need a vacation from the office.

I’m still feeling the runner’s high from a great run home last night. 5 km in under 34 minutes!

No one is invisible.

One ginormous coffee just isn’t going to cut it today.

My arms are sore from push up. Like so sore I can barely lift them. The sad thing is that I only did two sets of 10 reps.

Pots and kettles are both black.

 

 

Demands.

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Day 7 – National Blog Posting Month

exhausted-tired-mom-kids

Kid 1 – “Mommy, we have to read my French book.”

Kid 2 – “Mommy, can you make pancakes?”

Kid 3 – “Mammma, mak pacake?”

Kid 2 – “Actually, mommy can I have eggs instead?”

Kid 3 – “Mammma, ook car!”

Kid 1 – “Mom come on! We have to read my book.”

Kid 2 – “Mommy, I’m hungry. Eggs please!”

Kid 1 – “Mom, can I watch TV?”

Kid 2 – “Mommy, I’m thirsty!”

Kid 3 – “Mama! Mama! Poo poo bum.”

Time  – 7:48am.

The Longest Day of the Year.

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Day 1 – National Blog Posting Month.

Welcome to another installment of National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo), where bloggers post daily for the entire month.  It’s a big commitment but one I have succeeded at in the past and I hope to be able to keep it up again this year.  I can promise my readers there will be talk of running, life as a mother, being a doctor and running a practice and being a daughter to elderly parents.  So, probably nothing terrible new.  Ha!

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It’s the day after Halloween and it’s not even 10am and I think my kids have asked for candy about a hundred times.  Right now I’d rather stick a fork in my eye than hear them ask for candy one more time.

The clocks turned back an hour last night. Daylight savings time.  I can vaguely remember it the thought of an extra hour of sleep was heaven. Not so much anymore. In fact, it’s a horrible joke played on many parents.  An extra hour of sleep? What a joke.  The toddler was up just before 5 am. And when I say up, I mean awake and ready to meet the world.  There was no way he was falling back asleep. Then the older two, I could hear talking around 5:45 am.  My older son came into my room and gave me a kiss – the distinct smell of chocolate on his breath.  It would appear they sneaked some candy in their room before going to bed last night.  Well played, kids. Well played.

A Midnight Battle of Will

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“The Force is strong in this one.”

Two years old in a few weeks and he’s giving me more hassle than the other two before him combined.

Seriously, kid?

He expertly climbed out of his crib a month ago.  Happy as a pig in shit to do so. Ready for a big boy bed, it would seem.  So a big boy bed he got. Trouble is now he won’t stay in it.  Oh, eventually he’ll just tire at the gate and shuffle back to bed but when this happens at 1 am in the morning, it comes down to a battle of will.

“Maaaaama, I whan warhm miiiiilk.”

Me, softly, from my bedroom. “Go back to bed.”

“No. Miiiiiilk.”

Whining ensues. Tired whining.

Me: “Go back to bed.”

“No. Maaaaama.  I hugry.”

A few more minutes of whining.

“Daaaaady. I whan warhm miiiilk.”

Sternly, “Go back to bed. Night night.”

“Maaaaama.  Miiiiilk.”

This went on for over an hour. Eventually, his will broke and he found his way back to bed. Hmpfh. Hungry indeed.  Just stay the fuck in bed, kid.

Solo. 

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I sit at a bar in a lovely restaurant downtown enjoying an Aperol Spiritz. I am alone. It’s my birthday today. 

  
Having been away on vacation for the past two weeks and the insanity that was work for weeks before that, it was impossible to think ahead and plan anything for today. 

Husband suggested I take the afternoon to be alone and do whatever I wanted. He would make whatever I wanted for dinner and told me to come home whenever I wanted. I took him up on it and booked a late afternoon/early evening massage and facial at a spa I have been dying to go to for a while now. 

I feel a little guilty. He told me not to. He hadn’t time either to plan anything so he said it was my day and wanted me to enjoy it. 

I plan to. 

Here’s to 41! 

Three More Hours

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I am sitting in a salon chair finally getting my hair done. It desperately needs some help and this was the only time I could fit it in. I 

work this afternoon and then I am off for almost three weeks. 

Three weeks! 

Three more hours of patient visits to go. 

Three more hours of lab reports, consults and prescription renewals. 

Three more hours of dealing with other people’s problems. 

Yesterday I started to worry that I was getting depressed again. I suddenly just felt … I don’t know, I felt off. I felt like I just didn’t care about any of it anymore. I didn’t want to go home and face the chaos of trying to clean and pack and deal with the kids. 

But then I got home and amongst the chaos and dirty faces and piles of laundry to fold, I felt immensely better.  I was happy to be home. I can’t begin to describe how reassuring that was to feel. Despite the state of emergency that my house is currently in, I was happy to be home and in the middle of it. 

I don’t need a break from my family, house or kids. I need a break from work. 

Only three more hours to go. 

6 AM

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I’m so fried right now, I can barely think straight.

The “baby” has learned how to climb out of his crib. He’ll be 2 next month. I’m not ready for him to be in a big-boy bed but he’s at risk for fracturing something if he keeps this up.  And speaking of up, since he’s discovered this little trick, when he wakes up at 6am he no longer talks to himself in the crib.  He gets out of this crib, opens his door and comes to my room.  This morning he discovered there were monkeys on his pajamas.

“MOMMY!  Monkey!”

“Yes, monkey,” I reply half-asleep.

(Louder) MOMMY!!!!!  Monkey!!

“Uh huh…”

(LOUDER) “DADDY!!! DADDDY!  Monkey!”

(Snoring)

“MOMMY! I hugry. Mommy!  I HUGRY!”

“Too early for breakfast,” I mutter.

“DADDY!  I hugry!”

“Okay,” in a very deep sleepy voice.

This goes on for about 10 minutes.  I finally get up to get the kid some milk and the other two spawn are coming out of their room all bright-eye and bushy-tailed.

They are all smiles, “Hi Mommy!  Can we go downstairs?”

And the morning begins.