A day in the life…weekend edition

My goodness, I have sucked at this whole blog thing lately. All I can say is #momlife. I’m not even going to pretend that I’ve been making an effort to write, because that would be a lie, and, I’m not about that life. However, this past weekend triggered a thought, so figured I’d jump on the opportunity.

This weekend was filled with birthday parties, baptisms, swimming & visiting with friends.  I couldn’t help but think; it feels like quadruple the amount of work getting out of the house with two babes compared to when we just had one.  Jason and I have a running joke now.  When we get to wherever it is we are going, we kiss, high-five, and say “see you tonight!”  Dramatic?  Perhaps, but not too far-fetched for our life as of late. We’ve each taken responsibility for one child, Jason claims Lincoln while I take ownership of Wyatt.  It just makes the most sense.  It’s difficult with their current ages; Wyatt demands my attention {and boobs}, while Lincoln only wants his dad.  Why fight what the universe is telling you, am I right?

For those of you flirting with the idea of having a second child, let me give you a glimpse into a day in the life…on Saturday, we were trying to make it to 8:30 service for a baptism. The good Lord was with us that day.

6:00am My alarm goes off. Note; Jason appears dead but is in fact breathing. I shut off my alarm, roll over & immediately fall back to sleep. Mistake? Yes. Regret? Not even a little. This momma needs her sleep.

7:00am I am surprised when I wake up to see the clock read 7:00.  Jason and I make eye contact and both roll out of bed to start the day, each pretending like sh*t isn’t about to hit the fan.  I head to the shower, and he grabs Lincoln.  {Keep in mind I was awake from roughly 3:30-4:30.  Basically, I wake up in anticipation of Wyatt needing to nurse, wait for him to actually wake up, feed him, and then continue to lay awake trying to convince myself that I need to go back to sleep because I have to wake my lazy a** up in a few hours to be out of the house by 8.}

7:15am I stand in front of the mirror, sweating profusely {hey hormones!}, attempting to tame my mane, while also slopping overly priced makeup on my face; all to accept the fact that only one of the two ever ends up looking as I hoped. Why the hell can I never have a good hair AND makeup day? Anyone????

I would like to add, Jason is downstairs dealing with a screaming toddler, and while I may not be the one handling the situation, it still gives me a great deal of anxiety. Why? Because I can’t turn mom off, that’s why. Cue more sweat.

7:30am Wyatt is screaming because he has been sitting in some type of child containment device for the last thirty minutes without the slightest bit of interaction from we who are his parents.  I’ve prolonged his feeding as long as humanely possible.  I grab him {before I get dressed, yes, I’m naked} sprint down the hallway, while trying to cover my goods so that the neighbors don’t call the cops, fall into the rocker & start to nurse him. He flails his arms, grabs at my face, destroys the hard work that was my makeup, and then spews all over me. The naked part is suddenly making sense, isn’t it?

While I’m slowly morphing into the hulk, Jason brings Lincoln upstairs, grabs the clothes I have laid out for him, wrestles to get him dressed, and then takes a quick shower himself.  Lincoln is running amuck, smacking his brother in the head as he runs from room to room.  One second he’s in our bathroom, attacking Jason and demanding to see his “pee pee” because…boys.  The next second, he’s downstairs on the counter trying to make a peanut butter, fluff & Nutella sandwich.  Yes.  We put all of those things on bread at the same time.  Back off.

8:15am We are supposed to be out the door already.  I put Wyatt in his car seat, he has spit up all over, which I make no effort to clean up.  I set him by the door {this ensures we don’t forget him as we stumble out the door} and start to pack up the diaper bag.  I run into each of the boys’ rooms and grab an extra outfit and diapers for both.  {Side note, I try to have the diaper bag ready the night before, I’ve yet to learn.}  I curse under my breath, haul ass down the stairs, tripping over the dog, and throw a bunch of baby crap in my bag.  Then I remember we need swim suits.  Back upstairs, more cursing, more tripping.  You get the drill.

Wyatt is screaming, again, as Jason scoots by me on the stairs.  He knows better than to make eye contact at this point.  He grabs Lincoln and puts him in the car.  I do a quick once over, even though forgetting something is inevitable, walk out the door {with Wyatt, don’t fret} and can’t help but feel slightly proud of myself that we may actually make it to the church on time.

8:16am Jason makes his way in the car, and we’re off. I look over to see the gas gauge sitting below at empty, and my pride is long gone. One day we may get this parenting thing down, but today, today is not that day.

P.S. I’m trying to convince Jason that having a third won’t be that bad…