Friday, April 13, 2012
The Idiot's Guide to A Day In the Life of a Stay-at Home Mom (Husbands and Hilary Rosen Please Tune in)
Regardless, the leisurely picture of a stay-at-home mom has really come to grate on my nerves. I'm embarrassed to admit that I used to be one those people who scoffed at these moms, as I was raised to be an education-achieving, career-driven, independent woman. Cue the Beyonce music.
So I went to school, got my master's degree, and got knocked up in the process. While I was raised to hate the idyllic 1950's housewife, I wanted a family, and was excited about the prospect. I figured I would stay home for a few months to get the little guy acclimated to this big, bad world and then dive back into the "working" world.
Fast forward, and my few months at home have turned into 9 months, with no end in sight. As difficult as it is, this is the best job I have ever held, and I plan on staying home for as long as our finances and my sanity will allow. I love spending every day with my son. I love that I never miss any milestones and he is turning into a full on "mama's boy". Like I said, I wouldn't trade it for the world. I consider staying at home a luxury and realize that not everyone has the option or even the desire. That's ok. To each their own. However, anyone who thinks this gig is a walk in the park needs a swift kick in the nuts...or the vag for that matter (Shout out to HILARY ROSEN).
My rebuttal to the epic question that I think my husband is too smart to ask anymore, "What did you even do today", is as follows:
We'll just start around
5:15 a.m: Was b*tch slapped in the face and got a titty twister from our son indicating that he'd like to nurse.
7:15 a.m: We repeated the above.
7:30ish: Stole some more shuteye before official wake up call.
9:00 a.m.: Wrangled a screaming baby in an effort to get his ear drops in. In the process, the baby took a bite out of the arm that was trying to hold him still. Awesome. At least he has his shots up to date.
9:30 a.m.: Held baby on lap, with my uninjured arm, while I peed so I didn't have to hear the cacophony that is his crying this early in the morning
9:35 a.m.: While making the bed I discovered a mysterious wet spot on the floor where the baby was previously sitting. Upon further investigation, I discovered that it is pee. These faulty diapers have failed me again.
9:40 a.m. Considered a strongly worded letter to the diaper manufacturer while I changed his diaper and scrubbed the pee spot.
9:50 a.m.: Entertained the baby by singing my rendition/remix of "Big Boys Don't Cry" while I shoveled as many frosted mini wheats into my mouth as humanly possible. For the curious at heart, the record seems to be around 12 mini-wheats.
10:00 a.m.: Tried to check emails and jot down an idea for the blog... so I can convince myself that I am still a contributing part of society rather than a simple milk making, diaper changing, jester to an 8 month old. While I take this "me" time my son continually rams himself, via his walker, into the pantry closet door.
Hold your applause. I will accept my "mother of the year" award later this week.
10:10 a.m.: Pantry ramming had lost it's appeal. While trying to get him suited and booted for the epic battle that was breakfast..I managed to take a chunk out of my ankle with the high chair.
If you are keeping score for the morning that is: baby-2 mommy-0.
10:13 a.m.: Put some Cheerios on his plate as a distraction while I prepare his meal.
10:15-10:35 a.m. This time was spent playing my own version of the "Hunger Games." The object of which was to get as much pureed apricot into my baby's mouth as possible before it ended up in his nose, my hair, the carpet, and on the wall. This process typically involves a lot of crying and even the occasional gnashing of teeth. The games resulted in maybe a tablespoon of food actually making it to its intended destination.
10:40 a.m.: Clean up time. All those Cheerios I thought he ate were actually smashed under his giant diapered ass. Wiped down the offending apricot from the baby, the furniture, and myself.
10:50 Did the dishes with a 31 lb. baby on my hip as he refused to be set down. How do I still have flying squirrel arms??!
11:20 Began the process of cleaning up after the tornado that is my husband. How many M-Fing times must I tell him to pick up his clothes off the floor, or clean up his coffee mess, or my personal favorite..FLUSH the toilet?! What an asshat. A loving, wonderful asshat, but an asshat none the less.
11:45ish: Baby had begun spiralling into nuclear meltdown mode which indicated it was time to let the little leech nurse some more and put him down for a nap. Just as I was sneaking away, the UPS man rung the doorbell (FOR THE WRONG HOUSE) and the baby awakened even more pissed than he was before. I briefly considered throat chopping the UPS guy, but settled for a stern, angry look.
This all happened before noon.
On REALLY productive days I also manage to:
1) Make it out of my pajamas. Double points for the team.
2) Take a shower.. to rid myself of the homeless goat smell that seems to be my current spring fragrance.
3) Go grocery shopping with our son..who typically turns into the spawn of Satan somewhere between produce and the meat department
4) And my personal favorite...make the baby laugh so hard he shits his pants..this is a rare treat.
All in a days "work".