Thursday, June 10, 2010

Mommy's Deteriorating Mental Health

Have you ever had a really, really bad day that reinforced that you were (a) a bad mother and (b) perilously close to losing your schmidt and (3) in very bad need of a break?  That was my day.  Here's what happened.
  • I woke up exhausted and running late.  So... normal.
  • Sent my daughter to school without breakfast.  Didn't realize that she hadn't eaten it until after she had been at school for thirty minutes and I saw the dog stealing it off the counter and scarfing it down.
  • Our geriatric dog nearly died of pancreatitis last week.  It was horrible.  After $550, two days in doggy ICU, a regimen of narcotics fit for a Lohan and his precious canine life still hanging by spit...  The one thing the vet told me we HAD TO DO was make sure the dog did not eat any fat.  So you can imagine how happy I was to see him eat the two pieces of toast slathered in butter. 
  • My son wore Crocs to camp at his preschool.  They were different colors.  One was broken.  They were both left feet.  I didn't notice until he walked into the building.
  • When I got home from dropping him off, I went to unbuckle the baby from her car seat.  Except she was already unbuckled. And naked.  She had unbuckled herself and then stripped off.  She's 18 months old. 
  • I got the baby down for a nap.  Then started to prioritize the 5 hours of crap and chores I needed to knock out in 90 minutes of naptime.  Fantastic.  Another day of crunchy, filthy rugs and laundry piling up.
  • Dang it!  Realized with a start that I was going to have to re-run the washing machine because everything in it had soured.  So I re-ran the machine.  For the THIRD time. 
  • The baby woke up screaming after one hour.  Went in to find her completely naked again and covered in her own excrement.  Also, her entire crib.
  • Look at clock.  Have twenty minutes to bathe baby, dress baby, clean up what appears to be three gallons on poopers and drive fifteen minutes to the preschool to pick up Hawk.
  • The school calls.  Thumbelina is at the nurse's office with a stomach ache because (as she told the nurse) "mommy told me I couldn't have my breakfast because I took too long to put on my shoes."  I tried to explain that I was not a Joan Crawford style-abusive psycho and the child actually left her breakfast on the kitchen counter.  The nurse was like: "All righty then, Mrs. Coupon.  I'll just give her a granola bar and send her back to class."
  • Guilt.  Shame.  Sigh .... Oh-my-Maude-I-am-so-friggin-late-crappitty-CRAP.
  • Arrive at the preschool late of course, to find my poor son forlornly waiting for me in the dreaded role of  'last kid'.  I walk in, give him a kiss and took a moment to talk to the teachers.  Until one of them made a funny face and said: "What is that smell?"  
  • OK, first of all: That's my line.  And second of all, that smell is ME
  • was unknowingly covered in had a little poop on me.  Its just that after cleaning it all up, it was all I could smell.  And of course I was wearing a black t-shirt so I couldn't exactly see the poo smears.  Awesome.  My third school-related humiliation so far today.   
  • Get home and change into a new black t-shirt.  Realize that it's 2:00pm and I haven't had a shower and I still sort of smell, just not like baby poo. 
  • Try and sneak a shower.  Just get my hair wet when I hear maniacal cackling so loud that its impossible to ignore.  Step out of the shower soaking wet and tip toe into the hallway, stepping onto something round and crunchy and almost fall down.  Oh sweet LORD.
  • The baby has stolen a brand new, extra large box of Kix cereal, carried it out into the hallway and dumped the entire thing all over the hard wood floor.  The cereal is an inch deep and the two kids are gleefully screeching and stomping the cereal into dust.  Whuck?!
  • The dog comes scrambling into the hallway at a full run, skids out and starts gobbling Kix as fast as he can eat it.
  • I'm not proud of what happened next.  I turned around, got back in the still-running shower, washed my hair, cried for a minute, got out and got dressed.  When I checked on the kids and dog maybe seven minutes later, they were still happily stomping on Kix.  Actually, the dog had already done a bunch of clean up for me.  Happily, that particular brand of cereal is low fat.
  • My neighbor and good friend Ellen offered to pick up Thumbelina from school for me.  Which is great, because it gave me the time I needed to clean it up.  Swept, vacuumed, mopped. 
  • Doorbell!  Hugged Thumbelina and thanked Ellen and then heard the same maniacal cackling and crunching sounds.  Schmidt.
  • The baby just did the exact same thing all over again, except this time she did with a slightly smaller box of Honey Nut Cheerios.  Furckitty furckwad.
  • Twenty minutes later the mess is clean and I'm pretty sure my dog is going to need to go back to the ICU because even though I kept shoving him out of the hallway, he may have eaten more cereal.  That can't be good. 
  • Also, Thumbelina is sobbing on the couch because I won't let her stomp on the cereal and the other kids got to do it twice.  And I am the meanest mommy in the world. 
  • Is it be possible to go one, single day without somebody crying or freaking out?  Please?
  • Peace and quiet.  We are snuggled on the couch in a heap watching Scooby-Doo and for the moment, everyone is happy.  It's wonderful. 
  • DANG.  IT.  We have to leave for swim practice in four minutes.  No one wants to go, especially me.  I have no idea where the towels are or if they're clean, they're still in the bag from yesterday. 
  • Show up a few minutes late, with all of us in foul moods because we'd all rather be on the couch watching Scooby.  Walk right into Mean Mommy who Hates Me.  Fantastic.  Now I have a stomach ache and feel like I'm back in seventh grade and a pimply loser. 
  • Hurry up, practice.  Hurry up and be over.  
  • Longest. Practice. Ever.
  • Get home, exhausted and sweaty.  Stumble up to the house carrying squirmy baby, purse and two pool bags filled with wet crap.  Why am I carrying everything?!  Why won't my big kids come in the house?!  What the hell is for dinner?!  When is the Cap'n getting home from work?!   Woody, GAWDAMMIT, stop barking!  I can't find my keys!
  • Mommy loses her mind and is suddenly Spittin'-Cherry-Pits-Moon-Bat-Crazy.  In the front yard.  In front of a couple of neighbors who are just coming home from work.
  • Kids are now crying and walking on eggshells because Mommy clearly needs a check up from the neck up. 
  • Except for the baby.  Who does not appreciate being spoken to like that.  So she slaps me across the face as hard as she can.
  • I sort of needed that.  Well played, baby.
  • Frozen pizza for dinner, it is!  For the kids, I mean.  For me, it's 7:08pm and I am tapping the T-box early tonight.
  • Bathe, feed and put the children to bed, remembering to be kind and loving as it is not their fault that I suck. 
  • They are finally all in bed, quiet but not asleep yet.  Then the dog starts barking again (he really must be feeling better) and I hear keys in the door.  Daddy's home.  It's 8:25.
  • "DAAAADDDYY! DADDY!  DADDY! YAY!!! DADDDY!" (Scamper, slappy, jumping, barking, baby crying)
  • I give the Cap'n a pleading look, pour another glass, go into our bedroom and lock the door.  I'm not coming back out until they're all asleep. 
  • At 9:30, I get the "all clear".  I am super buzzy from two XXL glasses of wine.  I smooch the Cap'n, who is delighted with his dinner of cold Red Baron pizza and warm beer after a 14 hour work day. 
  • Did I forget to mention that I'm also awesome at being a wife?
  • Too tired to care, I collapse in the chair, put on True Blood and fall into a stupor.  It's totally awesome. 
  • HOLY FRIGGIN CRAP!  It's almost midnight.  How did that happen? 
  • Note to self: Tomorrow at 6am, I will be both exhausted and hung over and have accomplished nothing. 
Before I fall asleep I say a prayer:  "Dear God, Lydia here.  Thank you for my family and for keeping them safe and healthy.  I'm sorry for being such a wiener and also for getting drunk.  Please help me to be a good mom and a good person and to always be grateful for all that I have and clearly don't deserve.  Thank you for the people who love me even though I'm an idiot.  Oh, and if you could maybe aim your omnipotence and benevolence in this direction, not having a hangover tomorrow would be great because I am going to have work extra hard at not being jackhole as it is.  Thank you. Amen."

Sigh... Tomorrow is another day.

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