How Not to Go Crazy
You know the kind of day I'm talking about: when every crappy little thing happens to you, and you can't help but remain in a constant state of irritation.
My morning didn't get much better after I emerged from the bedroom. Cameron's first order of business was to take an enormous, diaper-filling dump. Colin was demanding breakfast immediately, placing orders like I was a waitress at IHOP: "An omelet, Mommy! With the circle cheese, not the square kind. And some chocolate milk!" In the meantime, he asked for a spoonful of Goober - you know, the disgusting peanut-butter-and-jelly all mixed up into one jar? - to curb his apparently-ravenous hunger. And while I was getting it for him, in hopes of shutting him up for two seconds, I dropped a huge glob onto my computer keyboard - which jammed up (hehe, no pun intended) several of my keys. These are the keys that were not already stuck from the sweet tea Cameron spilled on them, for the second time, a couple of days ago.
(Note to self: do not allow food or drinks near computer. It's the smart thing to do.)
While I was cleaning up the Goober gunk, Colin was all, "Is my omelet done yet?"
Um, does it look like your omelet is done?
Anyway, I cleaned up the Goober, the baby poop, and whipped up an omelet for each of the boys (during which I got little pieces of shell in the egg, which NEVER happens, and it took like five minutes to fish them out). Then I fed and watered the cats and the dog, who were acting like poor mangy strays who hadn't eaten in weeks, and scooped the disgusting litter box. And then, finally, I was able to sit down at my computer for my morning routine of checking e-mail, social networking sites, the blog, the headlines, and everything else that's important.
But the peace didn't last long, as Cameron - who'd lost all interest in the omelet I had so diligently worked to provide him - decided he wanted to sit in the chair with me ("sit in the chair" meaning "crawl all over my back"). Which he did ... using my braless boob as an aid to help him climb. I know it hangs down like Rapunzel's hair and all, and it may look like a very convenient handle, but ouch.
In lieu of my own breakfast, I ate the rest of Cameron's omelet, which was cold and rubbery by that time ... just because I didn't want to waste it. Deeeelicious.
And now, I'm blogging. It may seem, since I'm sitting at the computer right now, that I've gotten the boys nicely occupied with something. But the truth is, they're emptying my kitchen utensil drawer: Cameron is poking at his brother with a pair of tongs, and Colin has a spatula, a potato masher, a cake decorating tip, and a reusable straw and is somehow pretending he's lighting fireworks.
It's a tradeoff. A few minutes of relative peace in exchange for a heinous mess - because, you know, I can't have my cake and eat it too. Just look what happened the last time I tried to blog:
Despite all this, I know that the type of day I have really depends on me ... no one else. And I know, too, that the better mood I'm in, the better my kids will behave. So in an attempt to salvage the rest of the day, I'm going to do the following:
-Smile even when it feels unnatural, because just the physical act of smiling can often work wonders.
-Put things into perspective and be grateful for what I've got. It could be EVER-so-much worse. For example: at least I have food to spill on my keyboard. And toilet paper to wipe with! And I may
feel be fat, but it's because I'm growing a precious new life ... and because I have cookies to eat. Lots and lots of delicious cookies.
-Have fun with my kids, because their laughter makes me happy.
-Put on a bra. Because that "using Mommy's boob as a handle" thing is so not cool.
Wish me luck, guys!