children, gratitude, happiness, mommyhood

Run for Your Motherhood

I wanted to recap some of our spontaneous weekend adventure highlights (and lowlights) because it was certainly a memorable time. To kick-off the weekend we dined in our hotel restaurant. About 15 minutes in, little T.Puzzle, who is kicking-butt with his potty-training, announces he has to ‘POOP!’ I grab him and race through the restaurant and make it to the bathroom just in time. Upon returning to the table and after the arrival of our food, Full Speed starts acting weird. He keeps saying something is in his throat and he is extremely whiny. Then, he gets that look. It’s a look only a mom can recognize. Yep, it was the ‘he’s gonna hurl’ look. And he does. Right in the restaurant. I sensed the coming vomit early enough that I had a plastic baggie ready and manage to catch almost all of it. I leave Mad Dog with little T.Puzzle, my untouched food and the bill, scoop up Full Speed and run to our room (here I go with more running). He still looked ghastly pale so I had to pick up my pace and endure what was possibly the longest elevator ride in the history of elevator rides. When those elevator doors finally crept open, I busted out and ran full-tilt ┬áto our room where Full Speed unleashed the rest of his stomach’s contents into the toilet.

I was exhausted. Mad Dog brought my food up and once I knew Full Speed was settled, I finally had a chance to eat. Mad Dog also brought a bottle of wine because he is a brilliant, brilliant man. Things just got exponentially better from there. Mad Dog and I watched the Magic Kingdom fireworks from our balcony (the boys were long asleep by then), we had an awesome family day at the Magic Kingdom the following day (no more vomit, thankfully) and we even managed to catch the new Toy Story movie on our way home (the boys were absolutely riveted from start to finish).

Even though I consider the weekend a huge success, I still get frustrated at motherhood. That feeling that no matter how much I do or how much I take care of everyone, it is never enough. I’m too busy running to bathrooms with sick, puking kids who excrete an assortment of grossness from every possible orifice. I mean, how am I supposed to find ‘me’ time in the midst of all that?

However, as the boys grow and need me a little less each day, I sense my freedom and independence returning. This is a very good thing. It makes me feel more balanced and hopeful. Sometimes when you are in the thick of something like motherhood, you can’t see past the tantrums and the vomit to see what is right in front of you.

And for me, that is two of the most incredible kids on the planet.

bad day, children, mommyhood, tantrums

6:00 Sharp

Since I have been slacking in many areas with the boys because I have been sick; I wanted to get back in the swing of things by preparing an actual meal for the boys. They have had so much processed, fast food lately I’m worried that they may turn into chicken nuggets.

Full Speed determined he ‘didn’t like’ the main course of pasta, peas and turkey sausage and proceeded to fight me tooth and nail about ingesting it. Little T.Puzzle decided he didn’t want raisins (I know you are impressed by this gourmet side dish). Not only was he passionately against eating the raisins, he didn’t even want them touching his plate and screamed and cried because I ignored his tearful requests (trust me, the kid’s had raisins before AND lived). Then he decided he didn’t want the beverage I chose for him. He was in and out of time-out like a revolving office door on a busy day.

After several threats, Full Speed got his act together (a little bit) but T.Puzzle spiraled deeper into his abyss of contempt. He was mad that Grandpa was sitting in ‘his chair’ in the living room. I told him to get over himself. Grandpa offered to move but I drew the line. T.Puzzle was simply not going to get his way.

Since time-outs in the dining room corner were not making a dent in his hysteria, I changed tactics and moved him upstairs to his room. He was already at a level 10 and spewing snot like a fountain. I had to sit on the other side of his door to keep it shut. He was beside himself.

After ten very long and tense moments, he calms himself enough that I can engage him in conversation. “If you stop crying and pull it together, you can come downstairs. You need to apologize to Mom first,” I say.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he bleats over and over.

He’s reasonable enough now that I think I can take him downstairs. No sooner than we cross the threshold of the living room than the level 10 tantrum commences. I call ‘uncle.’

It’s 6:00 sharp do you know where your kids are? I know one of mine is smack-dab in the middle of his bed and won’t be seen until morning.