I am currently 9 1/2 weeks pregnant which means I'm SUPER sick (hello toilet every 20 minutes) and SUPER tired. It has somehow affected me a million times worse this go around...or so it seems. Having 3 young children AND feeling like I got hit by a train, semi truck and massive yacht all at once has been quite the challenge. I have absolutely NO patience, no energy and no want to do anything. Literally. Nothing. Not even bake cookies, not watch a movie, play games, nothing. It's been rough. Not to mention the ideal thought that I can still manage everything I could before: a highly time consuming calling, a growing family, a clean house, T-ball schedules and games, preschool, playdates, family meals, spring cleaning, de-junking, neighbor visits, etc. This for me has been a challenge. To realize that I just can't do it all. Not to mention the weight gain already... HELLO 15 lbs that took me 6 months to lose previously.. yes it is worth it, yes I am happy to be caring a so far healthy child. NO it's not easy for me. I'm struggling. REALLY struggling.
So now you know my mental state: depressed, sad and undetermined
On to the day. Deric fertilized the lawn last night (because oh no that Tim has a greener lawn than ours) which meant NO kids on the grass for the next few days...this sucks when being outside is what gives me that small portion of sanity I crave each day. So, low and behold, I decide to muster up the courage and venture out... to the park. Which is always easier when others are going with, right? So I invite a bunch of friends for a lunch date at said park... bound to be lots of fun.
The morning continues, my nausea and tiredness gets worse and really, I'm NOT excited for this park thing. Not to mention, I think we hit a record and went 20 minutes without someone crying, screaming or throwing things. Can't I just lock them in their room all day with a few crackers? My bed seems to be beckoning right now. But again, I muster up the energy to attempt to pack a lunch. Nothing "picnic lunch worthy" is to be found in the house. So I think to myself, fruit snacks can suffice for a proper meal, right? Then the better parent in me gets the best of my thought provoking thought and decides we better at least opt for Arbys. So we head out the door (after having to wake up little monster #3 I'll have you know) and we make the trek to Arbys. Of course, the kids can't decide what they want and the line seems to take HOURS.. but we finally get something that seems to satisfy most and we head to the park. On the way to the park, I realize that only 2 of my previous sent out texts (or so I thought) made it to their recipients and neither of them are coming. Awesome. I'll be honest, I was bummed. I needed some "mom chat" time. Oh well, we're almost there and it's no use turning back now. Until we pull in the parking lot and monster #1 & #2 start arguing over which park we are going to. UHHHHH... SERIOUSLY!? ? I'm so about ready to turn the car around.
We park and get out and as I'm trying to master the mindset of an octopus trying to turn 2 arms into 8, I realize that someone else had the idea to have a park get together and there is a big group of women and kids of which I know no one. So I take my 3 little guys across to the other side, cause it's just awkward sitting next to a group being an individual. Get out their sandwiches and Ryker decides he wants to be big and stand on the bench while clenching his sandwich in one had, about 10 fries in the other and a sippy in his mouth and.... face plants it on the cement. All while the other two are screaming and fighting over whose sandwich is whose.... they are the same! Pick one and own it! Seriously!
I finally give up trying to make them eat anything and tell them to go play while I attempt to convince my defiant 1 year old that he could use a little guidance. Within 10 minutes of being at the park, my oldest child does his duty and decides to report his younger brothers "dooty". That's right. My 3 year old decided to drop his drawers and poop and pee on the playground. And of course, my mind goes "SERIOUSLY?! How much more?" and I run over there while trying to dig through the tiny diaper bag, searching, praying and I'm sure some begging was involved that I would find SOMETHING to clean up this mess. I find 2 lone baby wipes and a few Arbys napkins and I head over to defeat the task...here I find a determined 3 year old covered in front with pee and in back with poop with a big nice pile a few feet away. While I try to politely scold my 3 year old, trying to keep my 1 year old from being curious and trying to calm down the now traumatized little girl who witnessed the whole incident all while feeling the burning disapproval stares of about a dozen other mothers from across the way, I wonder how much more I can handle today. We handle it and I gather my 3 boys as quickly as possible, embarrassed and literally run to the car, just about in tears.
On the drive home to change my child and quickly bathe him, I'm debating what to do. They will go crazy being inside all day. I will go crazy. I can't do anymore crazy right now. I call my oh so supportive husband and while traumatized I tell him the previous incident, he starts to laugh. Seriously?! Come on dear, have some fury with me, please?
Pull in the driveway and look at my one year old who is being silent and realize he somehow got ahold of a koolaid jammer (like a capri sun only RED in color) and so carefully sprayed it ALL over my car. ALL OVER. I now have a Ryker masterpiece of tan interior covered in red kool aid. Never thought I would have an artist. But seriously. The poop smell is getting to me, I can feel my lunch coming up, all I can think of is something strong (if only I were a drinker) and how bad I DON'T want to have anymore children. Thank goodness for leather seats. Too bad they don't make leather floors too. One thing at a time. I can do it. One thing at a time. I get my now screaming 3 year old into the house (he HATES being wet..well guess what son, then don't pee on yourself and you won't be wet) and shove him in the shower. Almost literally. He doesn't want a shower but I can't stand the smell anymore. Hello toilet. Well there goes that $7 I just spent. Awesome.
I clean everything up and lock myself in my room. Literally. Break down mode. I can't stop crying and praying continually for some amount of sanity and peace. Something. This parenting stuff is hard. I don't have the energy. And I get a text from my husband saying "just keep going. One thing at a time. You can do it." and of course this pops into my mind
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