Eat, Drink, and be Sleepy

L and her Horse

I definitely feel like my glass is half full these days instead of half empty like a couple of months ago, no it was completely empty. It has been a rough ride ladies (and a few sweet husbands), I am not going to lie. These two chickadees have given me a run for my pennies.  Ever since we sleep trained Honey Badger 5.0 things have been steadily improving. I cannot say I sleep through the night but, sleeping until 4am without having to listen to screaming is pretty close to heaven. It would be like having a glass of wine and enjoying an appetizer without monkeys climbing on your lap knocking your drink over and stealing your food…not that I know what that is like but I do dream of that place. The only mommy issues that are sending me into crazy town is that witching hour I have written about before. Remember how I vented to you about the 5-7pm time frame when my children cannot stop screaming and I want to scratch my eyes out? Yes. That still exists. How you say? Well it goes something like this…

After a full day visiting clients and being polite and smiley, I trudge through Publix in my heels wanting to rip them off and throw them in the gutter that I tripped on walking into the store. I am roaming the aisles trying to figure out what I am going to cook since it is 5:17 and I have got to stick a worm in my little birds mouth ASAP or bad things are going to happen. I have self inflicted guilt over the organic world vs the real world when it comes to serving my family food. When I buy all organic my grocery bill is astronomical and I feel bad. And when I buy things I know should be organic but they aren’t, then I feel terrible, like I am giving my children arsenic. Why oh why do I read every silly article on Facebook about food (from random sites I’ve never heard of) and think its the truth! I know organic is the best but does everything need to be organic?  When I grew up that word didn’t exist.  If someone would’ve asked me what it meant I would’ve replied “a home grown hippie person”. Now it is all over everything and a billion dollar industry.  I am totally guilted into buying everything organic and I don’t even know what all the benefits are. What is the benefit of organic clothing? I’m not knocking it, but seriously? You aren’t eating it and you don’t drink your clothes. Do the dyes seep into our skin and cause cancer in which case we need organic clothes so we can live longer? I don’t know. Send me an article on it. I promise I’ll believe it and do what it says. Back to Publix. Chicken it is. I’ll throw in a sweet potato and a bag of green beans and boom, dinner is served.

The garage door goes up and it’s game time. The two munchkins come bolting out of the garage thanks to the barking of a gigantic 5 pound Pomeranian who alerts them to my presence. I take a deep breath because the hunger games are commencing. No not really, relax. The screaming starts. L tries to help me carry a bag in and then C gets mad because she wants a bag too. Yes, please carry in the bag of Ruffles and drop them fifty times so I have to pool the crumbs in my hand and shovel them into my mouth to enjoy the flavor. Thank you. I immediately take the saucepans out and begin heating olive oil to brown the chicken. “I wanna go owside momma, what you dooding?”. “I’m fixing dinner my love, tell me what you did today”. She runs out of the room and I slip off my heels and regain feeling in the balls of my feet. Thank you cold tiles. I don’t have time to change out of work clothes because C is climbing up my legs shouting “uppa, uppa, uppa” and on the verge of a meltdown. With one (90th percentile in weight) child in my arms and L skipping around in circles, I give in and microwave the green beans and head to the swing set.

C has learned how to run, sort of, and knows that I HATE it when she climbs to the top of the slide, so of course she bolts out of the door heading to the bars so she can give mommy a heart attack. She flipped off of the top two days ago and thankfully landed on her stomach while I shrieked thinking the ER was eminent. Nope. She jumped up and cried long enough to prance over and want to climb again. I can’t handle another episode so I lunge towards her to keep her on the ground. She screams. She kicks. She yells. She arches her back and flails like an alligator on Swamp People trying to spin and break the chains of mommys grip. So sad for you mamacita. The Mosquitos are having dinner on L so our outside adventure is short lived. I drag them inside, much to their disapproval, and C throws herself on the floor with her bum up in the air for full dramatical effect. Perfect, if she screams for another 4 minutes that will be just enough time to cut up the food and fix me a drink, whoops, I meant them.  Of course, I didn’t pick out the spider man plate correctly and the hello kitty spoon for L so naturally she joins C’s pity party and starts jumping up and down and whining. So sorry I have failed you as a mother and I picked Winnie the Pooh. Thus begins the worst part of the night. If I can just make it through the next 15 minutes then its smooth sailing with bath time and books and wine for mommy.

Feeding my children is PAINFUL. I love them so dearly but I need straight jackets and ropes to tie them to there chairs for this time frame.  “Ok come eat!” I yell but I didn’t put the food in the right spot. “I don’t wanna sit there, I wanna sit where Che Che sitting”. Done. C refuses to eat. She looks at me and and puckers her lips. “No no no”. Yep. She can only say a few words and that one is part of her repertoire. “C take a bite it’s so yummy, see L loves it, mommy loves it”. Yeah, I got nothing. She gets up and chases the dog and I yell for her to come back and sit. Now, because I’m giving attention to C, L feels she needs to get up and chase the dog too. I didn’t want to have to use this card yet but, “no ice cream if you don’t eat”. Aaaaaaand they come back. L shovels food into her mouth.  This is her latest trick, she knows that if she puts too much in then she can’t chew it all and she is going to have to spit it out in the trash.  Oh I am on to you sister! You got me the first 6 times but these days you can go ahead and regurgitate that and enjoy it for round two.  C on the other hand could care less about food. She takes her fork and tries to nail L’s plate. I oblige her and stick some chicken on there hoping it finds its way into her mouth but no.  finds its way onto the floor for one millisecond before its gobbled up by our little dogcan. My mind starts to scream.  I have tried the high chair. That just makes her crazy and she screams and throws her food on the ground. She doesn’t understand the bartering at 18 months so I can’t say “eat a bite and you can have ice cream”.  All she hears is “ice cream” and she wants it immediately.  I start following her around the house with her plate of food trying to get a bite in here or there.  If I make it close to her mouth she hits it away and its immediately inhaled by the floor creature.  Occasionally she gets distracted with something and I manage to get a green bean in. Thank you Lord and keep it coming.  I hear L talking to someone so I peer around the corner.  She has the tail of the stuffed rocking horse pulled up and I hear her say “you have poop in yo’ butt?”.  “L, what are you doing????”.  “Momma I’m checkin’ for poop in the hosey’s butt”.  I just walk away.  I can’t.  I focus on C who runs over to the the patio door to see what’s going on outside and I get another airplane in her mouth. Oh wait, no, she smashes it on the glass.  Perfect.  I pry it off and add to her order with some sweet potato and I win. The score is 11 to 2. She’s the clear winner. No, I take that back, the dog is the clear winner.  I continue to threaten no ice cream for L.  I AM winning that battle. I read somewhere (probably on FB) that a child needs one solid meal a day and you should be happy if you get that. Well here’s to breakfast and hoping lunch was a success because dinner got an “F”.

I bathe them and water them and as I’m getting them dressed for bed L says “Mommy, why you have a rainbow on your face?”. “What? Where is a rainbow Baby?”, as I look in the mirror for a random sticker or something.  I raised my eyebrows and said what are you talking about? Where? And then…she points to my forehead.  SHE POINTS TO THE LINES ON MY FOREHEAD!  I want to crawl into a hole and die.  Please send me your Botox recommendations ASAP! I am trying not to be vain here but a rainbow on my forehead is about all this mommy can take.  Peace out.  If you call me and I don’t answer it’s because I’m calling my dermatologist.  Xoxo

 “I will give thanks to you, Lord, with all my heart; I will tell of all your wonderful deeds”. Psalms 9:1

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