I can't really describe the "it" that I am referring to in this blog post, but I think you all know what I mean. It. You know, it! I guess "it" refers to everything done well. Because I am having one of those days when I don't feel as if I am doing anything well.
I woke up exhausted. Maybe it was from the middle of the night feedings, maybe it was because my back is still killing me(long story,) or maybe it was because I feel like I am running on empty. I don't know why I woke up so tired, but I did. Then my entire morning was spent changing one diaper, changing another diaper, feeding one child, playing with another child, burping one child, reading to the other child.... by the time Rob came home for lunch I hadn't even thought about lunch, much less made anything. So we had Taco Bell. Disgusting. I couldn't even muster up the energy to feel guilty about feeding Bennett artery clogging junk smothered in Taco sauce.
After lunch I fed the other child, played with Bennett, changed more diapers, and then realized that I hadn't showered. Oh, well. I had errands to run. I manage to get both dressed, more diapers changed, more diaper bags packed, and into the car. We stop in this really cute little bakery to get some baked goods for my parents upcoming visit. It is too small for the double stroller so I let Bennett walk and I carried Will in his car seat.
I manage to squeeze in this tiny bakery ahead of Benentt and I tell her to come inside. She lets the door shut. On her fingers. Crap. She is screaming and I am panicked. After scooping her up and trying to quiet her wails, I see the blood everywhere. I am so freaked out about her that I don't notice the 6 other kids in the room that are hunched over Will's car set that I left on the floor poking him the eyes. The bakery ladies were nice but annoyed that I have a wailing infant that has become a sitting duck for every other child in the room and a screaming one year old who has left blood all over their store. I am in jeans, a ratty T-shirt, and my hair is up in a dirty pony tail. I am pretty sure there is spit up all down the back of my shirt.
And as I stand there I see all these other women looking at me scornfully. They have children as well and somehow they have managed to pull themselves together. They actually have jewelry on. Impressive. And lipstick. Wow, what is that? Their kids have shirts that are tucked in. Their kids aren't bleeding all over the floor.
So my question is, how do they do it? Seriously, because I obviously need to know. And I need to stop blogging because Will needs to be fed again, I think I smell a dirty diaper, and Bennett has pulled off her Elmo band aid and is yelling from the top of the stairs because she has locked herself in a room.
I obviously do not have "it." And maybe I will shower tomorrow. Oh and Bennett is fine. It scared her more than anything, but she did slice her finger pretty badly. And Will has recovered from the hordes of kids surrounding him and poking him. I will never leave his car seat on the floor of a store unattended again. Maybe. Depends on how much "it" I have that day.
****UPDATE*** I finished this blog post at 3:20 pm knowing that I had 40 minutes to compose myself and possibly (gasp) shower before my 4:00 chiropractor appointment. At 3:45, my chiro's office called wondering why I was late for my 3:30 (!!!) appointment. Can you say train wreck? I flew out the door, got adjusted, and now I am back and it is dinner time. I have no idea what to make tonight and I haven't been grocery shopping in 2 weeks. I give up on today. As my dear Scarlett always reminds us, "After all, tomorrow is another day." ***
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