Friday, September 6, 2013

Last Night

The past 10 days have been a reminder of Husband's fellowship schedule. It's been easy to get back in the single mom routine, but difficult having had just a taste of how the other half lives. Last night was almost legendary.

I picked up LMC, Niece, and Bennie from school yesterday and brought the three girls home. Bennie napped, Niece and LMC played. And played. And played... and played some more. They played "freeze dance," had shows on the hearth,  organized the "best cooking show ever," read books to each other, asked me to read books to them, and took turns-- yes, I said it-- took turns riding LMC's Princess bike. They played chase, blew bubbles, colored, and danced. When I say they played, I am serious- they played.

Niece was going to be picked up at 1:15, but told SIL to hold off and run more errands. She was going to pick Niece up at 3pm and I said go run more errands and do laundry. She was going to come at 4pm and I flat out said, "Don't." She finally came around 5pm and Niece asked if she could stay. I said YES before SIL could say NO. She stayed and played until after 6pm. They had the best time playing and being both friends and cousins.

Going to school and then playing for another five hours makes a four year very, very tired. And she's whiny. And hungry. And really, really whiny. Paint a picture of a virtuous mother in her apron string and heels patiently talking to her about her whines and graciously calming her down.


Paint a picture of a mother still in her work out clothes, sipping wine, and threatening her within an inch of her life.

A forty-five second bath follows the whines with promises of her favorite TV show if she doesn't throw a fit. She throws a fit. I "forget" because, like her- I want a few minutes of calm, too.

MOTY throws her jammies in the bathroom with the statement of, "Get out. Dry off. Put your jammies on and meet me in the den. This is you last chance." ('Last' became a relative term)

I walk up front to pour her milk and a very naked, very wet, very hacked off four year old comes streaking down the hall at my heels, screaming the whole way. NONO NO NO!!! She's red in the face, her tears are real, and she is howling.

"What's the matter?" (I'm really starting to gain some composure, because let's be real- only one of us can act like a child. Today was not my day.)

"I TTed a widdle bit."

"It's okay."

"Ohhhh".... and then she TTs a whole lot. On the floor. Thank goodness for hardwoods and no money for rugs.

"Go go go... run to the bathroom."

And she takes off in a bow-legged hopping/run, TTing down the hall.  Fortunately, her bladder is empty by the time she gets back to her pink bathroom sanctuary.

I grab my rag and 409, following the trail of tears and TT. Husband will never know.

After tucking her in, saying her prayers, and promising to keep the hallway light on, I have one child left to manage. Watching some chick-flick on FX, Bennie's little eyes wisp open and look at me. She is full of love for her mommy. I smile and softly kiss her head, trying to hush those eyes closed. It was a beautiful and perfect between mother and child.

Full of love, she was also full of puke.

Down her jammies, down her diaper, down my shirt, down my pants, down to my skivvies, the green puke flows like water. All I can do is let her finish so we only clean up the hallway once in a night. When I think she is finally puked out, I pick her up and take her to her bedroom to get her undressed.

Let's back up a moment.

I did mention it's nighttime, right? I say this because there's some law about optical something or other when one is in a lighted area and looking through a glass into darkness, the lighted room cannot see out into the darkness, but the darkened area can see into the lighted area-- clearly.

Did I mention that we don't have curtains on our windows yet?

No big deal, naked baby. We've all seen them. I shuck her jammies and they, literally, splat on the floor. Noticing that putrid green smell as my perfume, I look down and notice that not only am I wet with puke, I am saturated with puke... like I said, down to my skivvies.

These clothes have got to go.

It was not until I was down to my socks did I realize that I am standing in front of the window in my full glory, ready to meet the neighbors.

Being a mother is awesome.

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