Day 4: thinking maybe I can do this

7 08 2008

Determined not to go anywhere today, to just chill at home for the day, I of course eventually had to go out. I FINALLY got my PIF winner’s gift in the mail. I think I was subconsciously putting this little outing off. It may have something to do with the fact that I’d rather go to the dentist for a surprise root canal than take my two little angels to the post office. For some reason, whenever I run this particular errand, whatever can go wrong does, and then some. And then some more.

Exhibit A: I broke down and bought Ethan some little Crocs. Well, Frocs may be a more appropriate term, given that they are fake crocs, a la Target. I’d seen some a few days ago that were Batman themed and despite all my previous feelings toward Crocs (loathe describes those feelings spot-on), these were aDORable. Not, however, $30 worth of adorable. These Target Frocs were an easy $7.99, much more my style.

Ethan wore them for the first time on our little trip to the post office today. We were walking across the parking lot, and a few steps into it, Ethan goes, “Mommy, these shoes don’t work!” He couldn’t get them to stay on his feet; whenever he’d pick his foot up, they’d fall off. You know the strap that Crocs have in the back to solve this very problem? Frocs don’t have that strap. Guess that’s what the $22 price difference accounts for.

We made it halfway across the parking lot, Ethan whining the whole way, when he lost a shoe and at one point was hopping around, flailing and screaming. We got to the door, and luckily a nice man held it for me, since I was holding the contents of the package, my purse and a 20-pound human in a 20-pound car seat. The same nice man offered his hand to Ethan to help him down the stairs, and then he picked up Ethan’s shoe when he lost it again. I should have tipped this nice man.

From that point on, it’s all a blur; lots of screaming and shoes thrown over the postal counter. Babies crying, brothers hitting each other. Well, one brother hitting the other brother. With blunt objects. Had to go back to get my car keys, more flailing over lost shoes in the middle of the parking lot. Sigh. It was the longest 20 minutes of my life.

But once we’d made it home, things calmed down. I made the boys lunch, put them both down for naps, and got busy. I made a double batch of chocolate chip cookies, freezing one (that I’d split into half chocolate chip and peanut butter chip, half white chocolate chip and pecans) and baking the other. I took half of these down to my neighbor, the one who’d so kindly put together Ethan’s bike. I put the other half in mah belleh.

I also made the MOST amazing dinner: whole wheat quesadillas with asiago, artichoke, some of the leftover chipotle chicken from last night, a little salsa, and some corn, black beans, peppers and onions. Oh. My. Yum. So freaking good. After we ate, Ethan told me, “Mommy, you’re the best kid I ever saw.” Sweet-talker, that boy.

I finished up the night by giving the boys their first-ever dual bath. Ethan had one rule during this bath, and it was to not get rowdy. Which he of course did. Oliver loved every minute of it, though. Both boys went to bed about the same time, allowing me the evening to fold laundry, watch my show, cut some coupons, and hopefully get to bed early.

When Jeff first left, I’ll admit, I was kind of fearful of this week. Of how on earth I’d possibly survive the nonstop demands of my 7-month-old combined with the stress of my… how can I put this nicely? My mean and nasty, back-talking sassy-mouthed little outlaw? My days are normally spent clock-watching for Jeff to get home and RELIEVE ME ALREADY, I need my Calgon and a DRINK. And while my little outlaw is still rude, still talking back, still acting up every chance he gets, I’m not glancing at the clock every chance I get, muttering to myself under my breath about when his father will get home, what’s he doing, having cocktails with his colleagues? His colleagues who surely are not sporting puke stains down the leg of their ratty sweatpants?

But since I’m not clock-watching and muttering, things are more relaxed. Still stressful, but in a more laid-back way. I’ve realized I can not only survive, but I can get things done, too, and even manage to enjoy my two silly boys.

Today’s motherliness:

-Arts and crafts time

-Homemade chocolate chip cookies out the wazoo

-Dinner of amazingness

-3 loads of laundry, DONE

Todays fatherliness:

-Changed a lightbulb

-The brief moment during arts and crafts time when Ethan ran with his scissors

-I told Ethan during dinner that he’d never be able to burp as good as me; naturally, a burping contest followed


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2 responses

7 08 2008
Stephanie of Stopbouncing

Can you come over and make dinner for my fussy twenty-eight year old?

7 08 2008
Caley

Stephanie: Don’t worry- my 3-year-old didn’t eat his voluntarily; I had to bribe him with the promise of dessert. I told him he could have his choice- chocolate chip cookies, ice cream or Oreos. His eyes lit up and he said, “Oooh, yeah, I like those! I eat all my dinner and I get cookies and ice cream and Oreos! Yay!”

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