What Day Is It?

Quotation-Tina-Fey-mom-happy-Meetville-Quotes-271152I am not going to lie. I feel tired. I don’t know why I am tired, but I am tired. It feels like everything I do is exhausting. Between the future mechanic toddler who is determined to run in the parking lot and touch every tire rim, truck, and “metersicle” in the vicinity, and a infant who, like all infants, just wants to be held, nursed, and cuddled, I find that my energy tank gets emptied pretty early in the day.

I feel like part of my day is spent in a daze. I thought I was forgetful before children, but I really have reached a whole new level of absent minded-ness.

The other day I was at BJ’s restaurant and the waiter asked if anyone owned a red Charger. I own a red Charger. Apparently I had left my keys sitting on top of my car. I had presented the perfect opportunity for someone to live out their “Grand Theft Auto” dreams. Thankfully someone brought them into the restaurant instead of driving off with my car. The funny thing is the first thing I thought of was that if my car was stolen, my expensive carseats, baby carrier, and double stroller, would be gone. Take the car, but leave my ridiculously expensive baby items!

I can not even remember the last time I bathed the infant. The toddler gets a bath every day because I use the bathtub as a baby sitter, but I can never remember when the baby was washed last. I now have to schedule a day to give him a bath because I am afraid two weeks may be too long to go without one.  I schedule everything on my calendar now. It is the only way I can remember to do things. I have little symbols I put on the calendar because I am embarrassed about some of the things I have to schedule.

Pretty soon I will probably forget what my calendar symbols mean and the baby will start to look like Pig Pen from the Peanuts comics.

There is nothing like a trip to the doctor for a well baby check up to remind me that I may be losing it. When my doctor asks how many diapers the baby goes through or how many times he eats, I look at the toddler as if he can help me remember, and then throw out an answer when my brain starts to hurt too much.sleeping-mom1

I have no idea when my little guy released himself last. I can not even remember what day it is… some days I do not even know what year it is.

I graduated with my BA in three years, but somehow I struggle to keep my life organized with two kids.

I now understand why when my Mom yelled for one of us four kids she sometimes had to say all four names before she got the right name. I get you Mom. I get you.

By the way, would you like to watch your beautiful grandchildren while I sleep?


I Survived Doomsday: A Tale of Sickness

 Sometimes when I am having a really rough time with the babies I think to myself “Is it too early to drink?”

And then I think “It’s 8 am Shelbi. Yes, it is too early.”

imagesYou know, since having two kids under two, I feel like I have officially earned my “Mom Badge”. 

I mean I went through some rough experiences while adjusting to one baby, but I do not feel like I really earned this badge of honor until I survived doomsday in my own household. In a matter of one week, we were hit with the tummy flu. “We” being the kids and I.  Luckily, my husband’s ironclad immune system has yet to fail him.

“We” may be a little bitter about this.

Do you want to know what I experienced in that week of tummy flu? Projectile EVERYTHING.

I sat in disbelief as I watched my toddler come up to me, lay his cars down on the couch, and proceed to vomit straight out all over the couch. The kid was like a dragon laying waste to all that he breathed his fire on. I mean it came out of his nose! Do we as adults somehow know how to block vomit from spurting through our nostrils? When do we learn this skill?

The best part was that while I was cleaning up the couch I realized there was another distinct smell surrounding the area. Yes, Holden had peed all over the couch. Somehow he had positioned his diaper in such a way that he could spray the couch. It seems the dragon deemed it necessary to put out his vomit fire with his very own urine. He is such a sweetheart.

And then it was the baby’s turn to vomit all over me and my bed.

6a8a2db524e8d72fe98a626910a1abf7As if that was not enough, the baby decided to spray his feces onto my shirt and face while I was changing him.

By the time the nausea hit me I had spent all day cleaning up disgusting messes. And then I had a “You know you are a Mom when…” moment.

You Know you are a Mom when:

You get sick and because you are breastfeeding you don’t quite make it to the bathroom in time and thus have ANOTHER mess to clean up. You have a meltdown. Your husband hears this meltdown. His reaction is to sweetly tell you to just take a shower and lie down, and he will clean up your mess.

This was not exactly what childless you had in mind when she thought of her husband whispering sweet nothings into her ear, but nonetheless, it is at this moment that you fall in love again. You think, “This is true love. Truly, there is no greater love than this. That a man lay down his life for his puking wife.”

The romance is real people. 

And no I did not let him do that. A girl needs a little dignity in this life.


Picture Perfect

There are many times as a mother that I wonder, “Is this real life?” It is almost as if  I am watching an event of my life play out in a movie instead of being present.
This out of body experience happened to me shortly after the birth of my second son. It was time for his newborn photo shoot, and I was very excited to have his pictures taken. I was so  proud of the second beautiful little man I MjAxMi0zMGMyYmE3NDRjMDgwYmE3had created. When we arrived at the photographer’s house she escorted us to her studio, and we began the session. Newborn photos are typically taken with the little one in the buff so the photographer took my tiny bundle of joy and laid him on her lap in order to undress him.  I watched her as she gently took off his little outfit. He cooed at  her with all his newborn cuteness. I mused on the perfection that was my baby. I beamed with pride as I concluded that, like his brother, he was the most beautiful newborn to ever exist. I oozed Mommy pride. And then.. as she undid his diaper and lifted up his legs, the most horrific thing happened.
Hudson, my perfect two-week old human, projectile pooped all over the photographer.
I had never seen anything like it.  With one push, the kid had managed to launch a stream of feces a couple feet into the air. To my horror, he had hit her in her face, in her mouth, on her clothes, and in her hair. I swear it was like I watched the whole thing happen in slow motion. We both just sat there in shock for a second.  
What are you supposed to say at a time like this? “Sorry my kid managed to squirt feces into your face and hair from two feet below you. Boys will be boys. Ha.. ha?” Maybe a crude joke would work, “Like father… Like son.” Hee. Hee? Instead, I only stammered that I was so very sorry. Luckily for me, she was a Mom of three, so she was able to laugh it off. And luckily for her, I exclusively breastfeed, so the “face in feces” incident didn’t wreak of baby formula excrement.
The not so funny thing is.. this was only the introduction to projectile bodily fluids with two kids… but we will save that story until next time.
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