- The other responsible adult in this household has been working hours longer than a never ending road this entire month of September.
- We're suffering post vacation excitement withdrawals times six (Yes, even Sam has them. Yesterday he let me know he really misses being held by people all day long).
- I have 4 children all 5 and under.
- Three of them (Yes, even Sam) are extremely active boys.
- The other child who is generally agreeable, thoughtful, likes napping and stays in one place long enough to photograph is perpetually over tired from being in all day kindergarten and is no longer any of the things I previously mentioned.
- I realized I don't really enjoy two year olds, they're too moody, demanding and simply won't listen to reason (or anything I say for that matter).
- Now that I'm not pregnant I'm back to being lactose intolerant, which means I have no where worthy to turn to when I feel like eating my stress away.
- I've still been eating my stress away and now my tummy hurts all the time and I look 6 months pregnant by the end of the day.
- I can't locate my living room under the waiting-to-never-get-folded laundry pile up from our trip, several nights of diaper removing and the 4 daily clothing changes from Drulio Down by the School Yard.
- One or more of my Prince Charmings keeps leaving me love notes scribbled onto expensive objects around our house and popping the keys off my work computer.
None of this is actually new. It's all in the job description in one form or another, but I haven't had a day off in far too long and while the benefits are pretty good in this role, the pay is lousy and the health hazards take a toll. In fact, since my first day I've notice my hair is falling out in clumps, I have lines on my face that aren't going away and people avoid me in public places like I have leprosy.
Most days I shrug it all off the overburdened shoulders and focus on my sincere gratitude for the gift of motherhood (because it is there even on days like today). But every once in a while when I go to scream into my pillow and it's covered with pen scribbles I think I just might explode.
But I don't. And instead I just pray with a thousand pretty pleases that my husband does not have to work late again tonight.
And then thank the Good Lord for things like The Honest Toddler to ease the pain and put a smile back on my face for when real adults are around to talk to again:
"Anyway I wanted to thank you for changing my pajamas and throwing that towel down on my pee pee sheets. I noticed you didn’t open your eyes once (weird). It’s also OK that you didn’t actually change my sheets. I find the faint smell of ammonia comforting. Love means doing things halfway."