Most days are manageable and "normal."
- 6:00- wake up
- work out (I mean, it typically loses to sleeping 30 extra minutes but I like trying to convince you all that I work out regularly)
- get myself ready
- make my lunch
- wake up Sydney- change, dress and feed her, get us packed up and out the door.
- 8/8:30- arrive at school, wash her hands, sign her in at two different check points and then...
- I'm off to my day job of managing projects. Ha, as if managing our lives isn't a big enough project. So I shuffle and juggle throughout the day, thankfully laughing throughout most of it, due to legit coworkers.
- 5/5:30-pick up Sydney and we hit the road for our 45 minute (traffic permitting) drive home.
- Once in the door it's a tide-her-over-until-dinner snack to avoid meltdown...
- while I scramble to determine if A) I can whip up dinner in time for all of us to eat or B) find something for Sydney to eat, and put off making our dinner until she's fast asleep. It's usually the latter, so leftovers or canned TJ's soup for the little lady it is! (Don't worry, it's always healthy and organic. Blah)
- Her dinner usually ends with a high chair full of food scraps and one messy girl.
- We wipe her down (extent to which is dependent if it's bath night or not)
- 7:00-upstairs we go to start the 30 min bedtime routine. Wash her face, brush her teeth, change her diaper, jammies, stories and down she goes. Goodnight, love you, see you in the morning with a big hug and a big kiss.
- Time for Evan and I to eat.
- 8/8:30 the marathon is over and my ass is on the couch, a Real Housewives or Bachelor episode waiting for me.
End scene.
So today was that day, but it began with Sydney literally shitting in my hand. And when your kid poops in your hand before 7:15AM, you know you've got a helluva day waiting for you. My calendar said I had 9 meetings. My email said I had 8 different projects- all with URGENT deadlines. My mind said eff this...pass the girl scout cookies. Except...yesterday's Jamie took a drastic measure and hung a post-it on her monitor that read "NO MORE COOKIES," and today's Jamie didn't want to let her down. So instead, I sniffed out some candy that was a suitable stand-in. Really, how is one supposed to practice self-care in between contentious conversations about loaf cake signs and Frappuccino banners? You're not. That's why God (or Hershey's) made candy. And why Scouts made Girls...no, that's so not right, but whatever.
And just when I didn't think I could take much more, I picked up my loose cannon of a toddler. It's a scientific fact that toddlers have split personalities. I'd say about 90% of the time, Sydney is precious and adorable and a dream to be around. But that 10%? Umm...
As luck would have it, today was one of those 10% days. Tonight I was the mom with the kid in full on meltdown mode. Screaming and flailing as I calmly tried to get us to the car. Giving the "oh these crazy kids" smile to every parent I passed, when all I really wanted to do was say "hot potato- catch!" throw Sydney into their arms and run like a bat outta hell, driving off into the sunset with JT.
But reality meant that...
It didn't stop there. The meltdown lasted halfway through the drive home and picked right back up the second we walked in the door when I wouldn't let her play with our snowshoes in the garage. I know, you can say it, I'm so mean.
But the funny thing about parenthood, is that regardless of how taxing, exhausting, trying and hard it is, you still love your child as if they hung the moon. Putting our little stinker to bed tonight made my heart ache because that was the end of our time for the day. I hadn't gotten enough of her, I wanted more.
Okay, maybe 15 mins later, I was real happy to eat and plant my ass on the couch.
And tomorrow we shall start fresh.
*disclaimer- i have no energy to proofread this or spellcheck or include pictures. don't judge. you're still reading this so obviously it didn't bother you too much.
**evan is a wonderful husband and dad, and totally helps with morning and nighttime routines. the above was my selfish perspective. homeboy usually takes the lead with kid #1, kirby.
