It’s hard

As if someone up above was looking down and saying that I soooo looked like I had this whole three kid thing down…I’ve been served a curve ball. It’s like I was getting all too comfortable with my three and a half hours of sleep a night that I needed one more night distraction, just for giggles. And to whomever made this lovely decision to complicate my life, even if just slightly, I thank them oh so very much.

Friday, out of sheer stupidity, I used the hour before dinner to rush out to the grocery store sans kiddos. I thought it was a good opportunity to make the much needed trip and could do it so much faster without kids. So the fact that I had a half baked recipe, laundry in the dryer and hungry monsters on the horizon, I raced out to do the shopping. Upon my arrival, kids were going crazy, I had millions of bags needing unpacking and laundry was getting wrinkled.

In a house of loud barkers, unfortunately the loudest gets their needs met first. This, which was unusual, was Gabby complaining about not feeling well. With toddler on hip I tried starting dinner and unpacking groceries. I looked left, looked right…and before I knew it was head to toe in vomit. Um………

No sooner done than baby starts piping in (of course he’s hungry YET AGAIN for his human vending machine), Drew’s dying to know about all the activity going on in the kitchen (and get in the midst of it all). I’m sure you can imagine the rest of this story.

So rather than share all the gory details of our otherwise uncomfortable weekend, I will get to my point. On a good day, we are making it through by the skin of our teeth. On a day where vomit is involved…well, we’re not. I spent Sunday feeling as though I was a walking zombie. It almost felt surreal, dream like. And certainly not because I’m in a state of utter bliss.

This isn’t exactly like my previous blogs where I seemed scary (although maybe this one does) or I’m complaining about my brain power being diminished (although it has), it’s about how this is hard.

A special friend told me to think about how I want my table to look when I’m fifty years old. There are most definitely three beautiful children sitting there. I thank G-d everyday that I have my dream table. And when making the decision to have three kids, I knew it would be tough. It was tough getting used to having one kid. It was even tougher getting used to balancing two kids. What I didn’t realize was that I was able to conquer both of those while still maintaining some composure. Since having three, any composure I once thought I had is GONE!

I never really felt like a true, bonafide mother. Rather, I felt like I was faking it until I made it. I can safely say that having three kids, having puke in my hair, having spit up on my shoulder, finding stickers in my pants and bags under my eyes…I feel like a mother.