Can I do it?

I have been reading an online journal of someone I know...actually, I have never met her. She went to high school with Jason, and she randomly messaged me to invite us to her daughter's birthday party which was taking place close to our house. Since we started talking via facebook, I got drawn into her "essays". For Lent, she decided she was going to write an online journal for the 40 days leading up to Easter Sunday. She is an amazing writer--witty, entertaining, captivating. After reading her journals for the past few days, it got me thinking--could I do that (not be witty and captivating, just write)? Could I write a journal of just what happened in my day? For just one week? Could I write down my daily happenings for one short (or long in many cases) week? So, I decided to give it a try. I'm not sure I'll be successful, but I'll try. So many of my days are made up of trying...

March 24, 2011

I can't say it was a stellar start to our day. One day my children will realize that I am NOT a morning person. Their fighting began before I even rolled out of bed (and the rolling out of bed happened because Lilah spilled my glass of water I keep by my bed all over our carpet). Noah and Lilah wouldn't get out of Landon's room while he got ready for school, and it just kept going down hill from there. Landon is dragging his feet getting ready, Noah is begging for a bagel, and Lilah makes two waffles without my knowledge. Max gets one of the waffles, and while I'm disciplining him, she crumbles up the other one and gives it to Kasey. I finally get Landon out the door to the bus stop and start to the routine of getting the other two to school. Little did I know during this time, Lilah has found my cherry coke, the ONE cherry coke that I allow myself every day, and is taking secret sips of it. I stop her mid-sip and can feel I'm about to blow. First of all, we very seldom let our kids have soft drinks--especially Lilah (and definitely not one with caffeine for her). Secondly, it was MY coke. MINE. I know that sounds silly, but I don't get much of "mine" any more. You know--you lose any type of 'mine' when you become a mother. I don't even get to go to the bathroom anymore by myself. It's like it's become a sin for me to go and do my business alone. It's gotten to the point that if I do go all by my lonesome, I feel like I have to go to confession. I can see it now...

Bless me Father, for I have sinned. Two days ago, I went to bathroom completely by myself. I closed the door, I read a magazine, and I had no interruptions. There was no banging on the door while "Mommy" was being yelled over and over on the other side. There was no little girl saying "Mommy, you go potty? Mommy, you done? Mommy, you wipe?" There was no dog barging in looking for a scratch behind the ear. There was no one. Just me and my business. Just me.

At this point the priest would gasp, maybe even faint, and demand that I say so many Our Fathers and Hail Marys that I wouldn't even have go back the next week because I wouldn't have time to sin again. Moms just don't get to go to the bathroom alone. It's that simple.

Okay, so back to my stolen coke. That Cherry Coca-Cola is my treat each morning. It's my fizzy wake-up-soon-so-you-don't-hurt-your-children drink. It's MY Cherry Coke! I snatched up my drink, told Lilah to get dressed, and tried to get back to getting us out the door (mind you with much less coke in my system). That miracle finally happened (about 10 minutes later than it should have). We are almost out of the neighborhood when I realized I had forgotten my purse. Turned the car around, ran inside to retrieve the purse, and got the kids to school (late, of course). After hurrying to the gym, I found out the usual instructor isn't teaching my combat class, and the subs are two girls who I'm not overly fond of. Whew--it's 10am, and it's already been a day.

Good news is that it got better from there...well, for a little while anyway. I kicked butt in class and felt rejuvenated. Then I went and did a little shopping. That was going splendidly until I made the mistake of trying on bathing suits. Unfortunately for the kids, it put me back in the bad mood I had started the day with. After the bathing suit debacle (that ended up with no bathing suit being purchased), it was time to pick up Noah and Lilah again.

The afternoon was okay until everyone was awake. Noah fell asleep almost immediately after getting home which is odd for him because he no longer naps. I was almost giddy at the thought of the two of them sleeping at the same time in the middle of the day and tried to get Lilah to go down for her nap. That wasn't happening. She was determined to change her baby's diaper--over and over and over. I was okay with that as long as she played quietly in her room. It was 2:30, and I had not eaten lunch yet. I just wanted to eat. I took out a full container of homemade salsa and a bagel. I chow down the bagel, and then I hear "Mommy, can you wipe me?" I abandon my idea of sitting down to eat more lunch and go help Lilah. Little did I know that her baby doll diaper changing escapades included wiping the baby's bottom. That meant that she used half of a Kleenex box to do so. Once I cleaned that mess up, I told her no more getting up and go to sleep. At this point, I had not completely abandoned my giddiness of peace and quiet. That was short lived. Right after Lilah went to sleep, Noah woke up. Sigh. About this time I go outside in the backyard for some reason. I notice something on the other side of the yard and realize it's the container of salsa that I had left on the counter in my attempt to eat lunch. Max had gotten it, carefully carried it outside through the doggie door, opened it with no teeth marks on the container, and ate as much of it as he could handle. Please understand that Jason does not make mild salsa. I did not punish Max for his mischievous activity. It seemed like the salsa was doing that for me. I try to clean up the rest but find out that Kasey has decided to finish it off. So be it. It's time to start making the pasta for dinner. Another big sigh.

Lilah got a short nap before we had to pick up Landon from his track practice. Got the kids in the car, and I swear I heard a bell...ding ding ding...round 2 of fighting. Noah had brought Landon's DS in the car, and as soon as Landon got in and buckled, the "give me my DS" started. Lilah hit Noah, he hit her back, I started yelling. This activity seemed to continue until dinner. Jason walked in as we were about to sit down to eat, and he saw the look of defeat on my face. He chuckled and tried to cheer me up. I informed him that after dinner, I would be heading to the store. It was originally to get some bananas, but after my afternoon, I added beer to that list. As I was walking out the door, he reminds me that his soccer game is at 8:15. I'm pretty sure that he wasn't convinced I was coming back home.

I did return (with beer in hand) and was thankful to see that he had already gotten Lilah bathed, and Noah was taking his turn in the tub. Jason left for his game, and I finished the bedtime routine. I read Noah and Lilah a million books, turned out the lights, got Landon settled, and thought it was finally time for me to get to work. Then the bedtime fight with Lilah began. She has decided that she doesn't want to go to bed at night and stays awake for an hour after she's been put to bed. She gets up to go potty and tells us often that she's hungry and thirsty (which we respond "go to bed"). I gave up trying to catch her leaving her room and head downstairs. It's after 9pm, and I'm tired and want to veg out in front of the TV with a nice cold beer. No can do...I have to work. So, I sit at my desk and plunge into payroll reports, journal entries, bank entries, and other exciting HR details. Jason comes home around 11pm with a badly pulled hamstring muscle and finishes watching American Idol from the night before. After a while, I finally finish my work and join him in front of the TV to watch the results show that aired earlier in the night (so thankful for DVRs). Whew--I'm sitting on the couch. FINALLY.

For some odd reason, I decide that's a perfect time to start my week of journal writing which results in my staying up WAY TOO LATE! I didn't even finish, so I'm not sure my project is going to work. I'm typing this the next morning-tired, of course. Very tired. When will I learn?