Supporting you in motherhood, one little blog post at a time
You know that strange feeling that settles over you if you’ve ever been away from you kids for more than a day or two? That somehow in the hours you weren’t with them they grew in ways imperceptible to world at large yet glaringly obvious to you. I haven’t technically been away but I am very much out of the boys’ loop as I continue my lengthy wisdom teeth recovery.
They seem older somehow. Even in the picture above they seem to resemble young men more than little boys.
When did that happen?
It’s amazing how quickly we adapt to what life throws at us. Mad Dog is in full swing as ‘Mr. Mom’ and has perfected a seamless morning routine with the boys. Apparently, Full Speed is in charge of helping T.Puzzle put on the clothes that Mad Dog has laid out from the night before. Full Speed does well with this until it’s time for the pants. He has to count to three and as T.Puzzle jumps, Full Speed attempts to pull T.Puzzle’s pants the rest of the way up. The key is timing and yanking the pants precisely when T.Puzzle has reached mid-flight. I have yet to see this in person, but I can hear an awful lot of commotion coming from the boys’ room as this new ritual takes place. It sounds highly entertaining.
I am adapting by setting my daily goals very low.
Today, I did a load of laundry.
What’s next?
I may get wild and crazy and shower.
Clean clothes AND a clean me?
Talk about a rockin’ Thursday.
I didn’t want to have to write about this. Since it has forced me to cease blogging for a week, it only seemed fair that I share some of what has been happening to me. Please, bear with me, I am currently heavily medicated and I know not what I truly write or how bad my grammar are, I mean, is, I mean,… help me.
Here are some things I learned:
The best way to get your husband to VOLUNTARILY do laundry, housework and childcare, is to have a horribly painful, convoluted quadruple wisdom tooth extraction and then appear so pathetic, it’s the only right thing for him to do. Thank you, Mad Dog. You are a saint. Yes, you can quote me on that but only until my pain meds run out.
That while I have lost some teeth, I did not lose my sarcasm. For example, as I sat miserably in my doctor’s office yesterday needing to be seen earlier than planned because of my unmanaged pain, when he walked in the room and asked me, “How are you doing?” these four responses popped into my drug-addled mind:
“Great, that’s not pizza sauce seeping down my face, I’m not that big of a disaster. That’s actual blood because I’m on a liquid only diet thanks to you.”
“Super, this color of death on my cheeks is very becoming.”
“I’m awesome, but you should see the other guy.’
“Remember that pesky bone saw you used that kept waking me up out of general anethesia? Give it to me and your arm and I will carve exactly how I am doing right into your body.”
Seriously, I’m not bitter at all and I owe it all to an increase in my pain meds.
Apparently, my extractions were pretty tough. Something about the bottom two being so deeply impacted they were practically upside down and the top two being resistant to traditional methods thus, that pesky bone saw.
How can I turn this into a life lesson?
Well, it seems that my boys are adapting to all this quite well. Their routine is completely unraveled and everyone but their Mom has been lending a hand to take care of them. They are doing great.
This has been the best medicine for this Type A, perfectionist to be forced to let go of control and see that the world and her kids can get along fine without her.
Okay, it hurts a little, too, but not as much as that damn bone saw.
It’s our tradition and since I married someone passionate about football, I go with it. I have yet to convince Mad Dog to wear a matching ‘I heart Michael Buble’ ‘ t-shirt with me, but that’s another blog post for another day.
I have to be honest here, there is a definite downside.
If you happen to remove your poorly behaved four year old from a restaurant and take him outside so he can tantrum his way through his punishment, there is no denying the kid is yours. Even if you surreptitiously slide your body away from your prone, screaming child, the matching jerseys are a dead give-away.
So, wear your matching family jerseys with team pride, but maybe keep your Buble’ t-shirt in the trunk of your vehicle for emergencies.
When Mad Dog travels, like he did over this past week, my life with the boys becomes slightly more adventurous. Thankfully, lately, I have been appreciating these adventures more. I also managed to miraculously schedule two dinners with friends (one I invited to the house after the boys were asleep) and a lunch with my mother-in-law.
I haven’t had that much social activity since the early nineties when children were a twinkle in my eye and my hair was taller than a full-grown palm tree.
It was rather strange. While I was physically stretched to the max maintaining the family routine and meeting my social obligations this week, my spirit felt completely full.
I’m learning that as my children grow and need me less, I need to embrace this (as much as I can because it hurts ever so) and find myself a little more each day.
That’s what friends and a fabulous mother-in-law are for.