One of THOSE weeks

January 18, 2013

One of THOSE weeks

It's been one of those weeks. The kind where you realize you just served your son his sad peanut butter sandwich dinner on your husband's case of SweetWaters.

Don't they say it's all about the presentation?

Today, I had a cranky baby. As seen here.

No wait, I said cranky. As seen, HERE.

Love his precious face, but it was one of those days where we couldn't get anything right for him. Andy and I basically spent the day passing a crying baby back and forth begging, pleading with him to tell us what he needed. It was one of those days when I would have given away family heirlooms for a moment of peace and quiet. One of those days where I spent the whole day dreaming of all the amazing things I was going to do when everyone under six finally went to bed.

Every time the baby cried today. I thought about my after bedtime plans. Every time my son asked me what word "jklq" spelled and then got mad when I said it didn't spell anything. I thought about it. Every time I went to the bathroom while simultaneously talking to a five year old. I thought about it. Every diaper I changed. Every feeding I gave. After my son prayed a prayer of thanksgiving to God for Legos, Spongebob and "Gangnam Style", I added a prayer asking to get through the next few moments so I could finally take time to read a book or catch up on my DVR. Paint my nails or talk on the phone. Maybe I would do something crafty or finally organize my recipes.

I had so many big "me time" dreams today that I could hardly wait until I heard the beautiful sound of heavy sleep breathing coming from their bedrooms. Finally, I heard the blessed sound of nothing. It was time for me. I dragged myself into the bedroom where my husband was already lying across the bed with his face in a pillow...I collapsed beside him. Suddenly, I couldn't remember anything I was planning to do after bedtime. Plus, I didn't particularly care.

"I've had these pajama pants on for five days," I thought I heard him mumble from under a pillow.

"What?" I asked.

He came up for air. "I said, I've had these pants on for five days. I just come home and the first thing I do is look for these pants. I just. I want my pants."

"Oh, yeah...I come straight home and look for my maternity t-shirts."

"I know." he answered a little too quickly.

"Did you know that my socks don't match?" He continued.

I looked at his feet.

"See, they don't match. I have on two different socks." he let his head fall back on the pillow, "and I'm pretty sure one of them is yours."

"I gave up on socks when I had Samuel. I just wear those mules I've had since high school."

"I know." Again with the quick response.

He looked up. "What happened to us? It's 8:55 on a Friday night and we are lying across the bed and all I can think about is how I don't have the energy to get in it."

His question was a good one. What happened to us? Why did we do this to ourselves. A question that would keep any parent up nights trying to answer it if we weren't all passed out ten minutes after the kids fell asleep.

When Andy and I got married we were the first people in line at the theater the minute a new movie came out. Every night was date night. Now, we spend months trying to catch one single movie. Oh, we have high hopes. We see the preview of the latest blockbuster on t.v. and point and say with the energy of, well, people with no children, "Next date night. It's on." Weeks pass. The movie becomes available On Demand, we point and say, "Friday night, after the kids go to bed. This is it." Friday comes and Friday goes. No one can stay awake for a movie. Premium channels get the movie and still we miss it. Pretty soon we are both lying in the bed at 8:55 on a Friday night trying to remember the name of that movie we both wanted to see.

So why do people do it? Why do they choose to put themselves through the torture of childrearing. Who would do such a thing?

I know why we do it. It's because in between the 3AM feedings, the mystery rashes, the brother jealousy, the screaming, the case-of-beer-for-a-table dinners, the uncertainty and the disbelief that we will come through this alive or with any disposable income...we can't help but be taken away by this face...