Oak’s most recent post reminded me that I have things easy when it comes to the exhaustion department….and by easy I mean, I am fucking worn out, but not as worn out as her. Basically I am so thankful to be at work and get some “quiet time” – Do any other working mom’s feel like this? – if only my job was to nap….are there jobs like that?
Don’t get up in arms SAHMs I miss my little man a lot and realize that you guys get the benefits of seeing every single step of their lives and what not, but every once in a while I am thankful to go to work.
Speaking of, I should buy my daycare provider a mercedes or something. That woman is a saint….not because of Jack. Jack is obviously the best behaved, well-mannered kid ever….ahem…but because she not only has Jack, but 7 other little ones as well…..can you dudes imagine having 8 little kids in your house at one time running around? I sure can’t. That sounds like a nightmare.
What’s even more amazing is that when I pick Jack up she is all calm and relaxed. Her hair isn’t like frizzed out in all directions and her clothes a mess. She doesn’t have pee and/or poop all over her and she isn’t like meeting me at the curb with Jack in her arms and tears streaming down her face….how do women like that do it? I would be a mess. That is for sure.
With Andy working nights, I do a bit of the single parenting thing…..don’t get me wrong it is NOT AT ALL as rough as actual single-parenting. You dudes are amazeballs that manage that. Saturday Andy went in at 5pm and within the next two hours Jack managed to get into an insane amount of trouble.
It was like he got into the Christmas cocaine or something, he was all over the place.
- I turned around for a nano-second, and when I looked back he had my SIL’s deotorant, sans cap, in his mouth with bits all over his lap. I grabbed it from him and found teeth marks all over it…..how can they do that so quickly? I was literally sitting 3 feet away from him. Yucky deotorant taste in your mouth = crying.
- I bought these metal racks, they aren’t too big, but they seemed too heavy for a 15 month old….nope apparently not. Despite stacking them between a chair and the wall for safety from him, he managed to crawl back there, lift up the stack and drop it on his toes. Smashed toes = crying.
- My SIL was drinking an IZZE, the tiny ones in the metal can, and quick as a whip Jack picked it up off the coffee table, tilted his head back and dumped it all over his face and up his nose…..oh and on my freshly mopped floors. Fizz up a baby’s nose = crying.
- As I was coming back from grabbing a paper towel to wipe up the mess, he slipped on it and bashed his head. Head bashing = crying.
- He got a hold of a picture frame and figured out how to take it apart. I look over and he is carrying around the glass by itself. Me = heart attack…..he = thinks this is funny.
- As I was making his dinner he was standing on the baby gate…as per usual….then all of a sudden he started to get fussy….I realized he had wrapped his arm like a zig zag through three rungs and was stuck.
When I finally put him down in his crib I breathed a sigh of relief that he would most likely not cause as much trouble in there and I could finally relax after a lot of jumping, running and comforting. Whew! Dudes I think this road is getting bumpy….who am I kidding though? It is definitely awesome.
Trouble? Who me? Nooo