Y’all, it was recently brought to my attention that social media makes it appear as though I’ve got my life together.
I 👏🏻 do 👏🏻 NOT 👏🏻.
I could rattle off a list of things that makes me not put together, for starters, I have no idea what our finances look like. No lie, if my husband died tomorrow, our house would foreclose. Not because we don’t have the funding to pay the mortgage but because I have no idea how to pay it, like what site to go to, what the passwords and logins are. None of it. That’s just one example. Now, would our foreclosed house be clean? Slightly, it depends really, on how well behaved the kids are but the point is I can only adult on some levels some times. I am not on all the time, ever.
So today when my MIL text me to tell me 3 left her toothpaste at their house, I brushed it off like “ehh we will be fine”. If I was a put together person I would’ve realized the gravity of the situation. Any seasoned mom knows the importance of a kids toothpaste. But those seasoned moms are also like I said, put together. Of which, I am not.
See numbers 1-3 slept at Dee and Papa Gales last night. This is almost always a double edged sword. One one hand, we get a night away, on the other, the next day is a challenge with three tired girls. This was not unlike any other post sleepover day. Except 1 was invited to go to rock climbing with a friend. Since we homeschool and she doesn’t see her friends from preK and our old church often, I let her go. They we’re coming to pick her up at 1330.
It was right around that time, 3 decided to lose her ever loving mind and whine a ton, hang on me, the chair I was in and anything I was touching. I told her to go upstairs it was time for nap. I told her calmly, three, four maybe even five times. Finally I snapped, I pulled the chair away from her as she was trying to…honestly I don’t even know what she was trying to do but she was throwing a fit while hanging on it but also laying on the ground. As I pulled it away to angrily slam it back down on the floor, she pulled. So when I slammed (listen I won’t even pretend that I don’t slam things in anger. Which I realize is ironic since we don’t want kids slamming doors BUT I AM HUMAN!!!! Cue the “give them grace” conversations. Yes Linda, I know, it’s why I go to bed feeling guilty all the time. It’s half my conversations with the Lord himself. He’s still working on me okay?!?) I digress. So when I slammed the chair down, she had pulled it back just far enough that I slammed it down onto, my pinky toe.
Now, if that’s not karma I really don’t know what is. But if you’ve ever stubbed your toe you know that the weight of the world seems to fall onto your shoulders. Even if you’re not the “crying type” your eyes water. So, my eyes water and I yell (I am not proud of this bit here but I will not censor it to make you think I am anything other then the broken mess of a mom I am) “GOD DAMN IT go upstairs!!!!” I mean I was yelling so loud and forcefully that my voice cracked.
My husband turned around and looked at me, because it was in that verrrrry precise moment that 1 joyfully
opened
the
front
door.
There stood her friends dad and her sweet friend waiting to pick her up. There was permagrin plastered on his face. He awkwardly chuckled and promptly exited to take the girls to rock climb. Honestly, I was still so angry about my throbbing toe and now crying, screaming, whining toddler it didn’t register completely.
Until it did. I text her mom (also a friend of mine) explained what happened and added “so there's that. You’re welcome for letting y'all know you are not the worst parents ever 😂”
That was just the morning. Because later that evening….
My daughters friend stayed over tonight. We will call her … 1.5 because she’s basically like my own kid but she’s 1’s friend. (of note this is a different friend then the rock climbing one). So anyway 1.5 is very particular about some things. It’s endearing really, the way she has hundreds of stuffed animals (may or may not be a hyperbole, I really don’t know because she does have lots) but she also has a name for each of them. She’s not the kind of kid to have tons of stuffed animals and not even remember which one she has. They all have names and homes and reasons for being in her life. I wish my kids valued their toys like that.
Anyway so 1.5 is particular about some stuff, like her stuffed animals, food and flavors. Which always makes me laugh a little because she once held a bite of pork chop in her mouth for 45 minutes before finally eating it. She has determination like no other. So when I say she’s particular just know, it’s not like shes just a picky eater and “shame on them for not making her try more”. Oh no, 45 minutes yall. 45 minutes 1.5 sat with her fully masticated bite of pork chop refusing to swallow. Aint no mama on this side of heaven with that kind of time to have that fight every night. 1.5 has taught me a few things, firstly some fights aren’t worth having and secondly sometimes its not as simple as we as parents would like things to be.
This is important to tell you because she was spending the night. It was a last minute on the fly decision which is a big deal for her! She seemed fine without her blanket but she had her turtle and things were going great. Until, we realized we left the strawberry toothpaste at grandmas house the night prior.
This is huge.
Kids don’t like sensodine mint toothpaste. Don’t get me started on me needing sensodine which makes me feel some kind of way about my age.
So I causally say “it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s all we have so everyone use it and just brush speedy quick” I didn’t leave room for argument. I just kept repeating it to reinforce it. I was elbow deep in sudsy bath water and 1.5 looked at me like she was certain this whole sleep over was about to come crashing down.
I stopped what I was doing and said “how about, I brush your teeth for you, super fast, and then you can rinse and spit as much as you need?” She hesitated and nodded slowly giving me a thumbs up. I thought, maybe it won’t be awful, maybe she will still want to stay over.
Then I started brushing. Her face contorted into what appeared to be physical pain, while she let out these odd wounded animalistic sounds from her open and very minty mouth as I brushed. 20 seconds yall, it’s all I got and those 20 seconds felt like a lifetime. Aside from 1.5’s cries of anguish from the toothpaste torture, the bathroom fell silent. Which is a very eerie sound in a house full of girls. Everyone was transfixed by the mint toothpaste burns being inflicted and as a result now terrified to use it themselves. 1.5 grabbed the water in the cup I handed her and rushed to the toilet to swish, spit, rinse and repeat until “the burning stops”.
I looked from the toothbrush in my hand to the three children of mine across the room and said “don’t even ask me. You are all brushing your teeth with the mint toothpaste” it probably looked like I was rage filled women on a war path ready to torment any and all mouths in my reach to them. I sighed, put the toothbrush away and finished bath. No one dared to argue about the toothpaste for fear it would somehow burn them the way it did 1.5.
Ten minutes later, 1 FINALLY finished unpacking her back from sleeping at grandmas. Guess what she found. . .
Berry flavored toothpaste.
I laughed and wanted to cry at the same time. We tortured 1.5 for no reason!
Here are the take always.
Always heed your MIL’s warnings no matter how subtle they seem.
Maybe try not to yell profanities at your kids. Especially when the door is open.
Anxiety is contagious, so do the scary thing with the least scared kid first.
Unpack sooner then later and fully.
Comments