Sometimes, Monday is a relief. The kids and I can get back to our routine. I like structure, I like counting on naptime and I like my day to have a certain order about it. Still…..it's a slippery slope to checker eating when you do the same thing day in and day out. It begins in the night when The Man brings Little Man in to sleep with me in the wee hours and then heads to work. It's just me, the kids and the endless downward spiral of housework.
Little Man wakes up and we play "Baby tries to crawl off the two-story high bed and Mommy tries to get fifteen more minutes of sleep". It's the snooze button for stay-at-home moms. Then I finally give up and we move to the couch where it's "Baby drinks a bottle while Mommy dozes". At some point Lil Dew joins us, my niece arrives and we have breakfast.
There's the making of the breakfast ( I pour the cereal or wait for the waffle to pop up), the eating of the breakfast and the cleaning of the baby and his chair. Then I try to do some chores while chasing him around and getting him out of jams. Then he has another bottle and takes a nap. I finish up the chores I couldn't do before and break up fights between the girls. Little Man wakes up. I chase him some more until lunch.
There's the making of the lunch, the eating of the lunch and the cleaning up the baby and his chair. After he runs some of the after lunch joy off Little Man has another bottle and takes another nap. The girls read for thirty minutes and then we either go outside to play in the pool or do an arts and crafts project. Little Man wakes up in time for snack.
There's the making of the snack, the eating of the snack and the cleaning the baby after the snack. By this time we're desperate for a change of scenery and we go somewhere even if it's just outside to play. The Man gets home and we start talking about what we should have for dinner.
Then there's the making of the dinner, the eating of the dinner and the cleaning it up afterward. This is the busiest time of my day. The phone rings, the kids are worn-out, people come over, and The Man and I try to get some "me time" like crazy ping pong balls shooting in and out of our hiding spots around the house. Before you know it it's time for Little Man's nightcap and Lil Dew's bedtime chapter. The Man showers and goes to bed and then bliss, it's just me and whatever I want to do with the evening. Is it any wonder I can't sleep?
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Ever get where you could just pop? I'm like the hottest most slippery kernel in the bag tonight. I wanna stomp n' jive in combat boots. I want spiked orange hair. I want a tattooed body sleeve of four leaf clover and lightning bolts just so I could stretch it and step on out with knees up in a march to the beat in my heart. I'd like a reason to throw my arms up and spin until the stars above me kaleidoscope and bend my very existence into, around, above and below you until all hope of escape is lost, until we can let go and just drown in the slippery crackling heat, until we burst into kernal fluff.
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If it's true that I stopped swimming the year before I became a mom than Lil Dew is the pearl I brought back with me from the deepest part of the ocean.
I absolutely believe she's magic and count myself lucky to call her my own.
She was born 10-10-2000, via an emergency c-section due to her bossing me from the womb. Her umbilical chord had wrapped around her arm from the finger wagging.
She's balance and fire and fast-forward, with sharp blue eyes and freckled cheeks, whipped wheat hair and a roller coaster heart.
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