One day. Just one day.

That's all I want.  Just one day when it stops for a second.  No toddler hollering at six am.  No preschooler wanting to play with trains at seven.  No beds to be changed, no laundry to be done, no cats to be fed, no drainboard full of last night's dishes to be emptied.  No breakfast to make while two children cling to my knees and whine with hunger.  No breakfast to serve, or clean up.  No fights over trains to break up.  No, "Leave your brother alone!"  No, "Give that back!"  No organizing the diaper bag and filling the everlasting sippy cups.  No getting clothes on and diapers changed and shoes on and sunscreen applied.  No wrestling everyone the door.  No loading up the van, no clicking into carseats, no driving to playgroup or preschool or library or park or gym or doctor or dentist or vet or grocery store or co-op or mall or church or friend's house.  No  unloading at the destination, no shepherding into  building, no wrangling of children for minutes or hours in grocery aisles or waiting rooms or children's rooms or living rooms or play areas.  No collecting and reorganizing and persuading and coaxing and ordering and carrying and stuffing back into carseats and van.  No unloading the van with weeping toddlers and hungry preschoolers and stuff everywhere.  No dumping stuff in the front hall.  No fixing lunch and snacks and bottles and having none of it eaten.  No cleaning up, no reading, no diaper changing, no singing and rocking and walking and singing and rocking some more to get the goddamned nap going.  No snatched moments to prep cook dinner and fold laundry and call the idiot satellite TV company that keeps charging us for a service we haven't had for eighteen months.  No getting horribly drowsy and trying desperately to stay awake and generate the energy to start the afternoon post-nap.  No diaper changes, no snack-providing, no repeating the morning's entire sequence from shoes to car to road to mall or wherever to in to out to car to home.  No scrambling to make dinner with two cranky hungry whiny clingy kids hanging all over me. No finally getting dinner on the table and having kids fling it to the floor.  No cleaning up the kitchen.  No cleaning up the playroom.  No organizing everyone to get upstairs for baths.  No stripping kids, running tub, dealing with multiple meltdowns.  No heaving kids into the tub. No drying tears when heads get split open on the faucet.  No washing hair while children scream bloody murder.  No handing off one screaming child to husband who has just now walked in the door from  work in perfect time to rev up the bed-ready children for another hour.  No cleaning the bathroom.  No reading to the older one while husband puts the younger one down again and again.  No fetching of snacks and water and stuffed animals and trains before the final good-night.  No sitting in the room while the child goes to sleep because his father started that trend while you were away working three nights in a row and now it can't be broken without an effort you are just too damn tired to make at 8 pm.  No finally getting finished with children after fourteen hours, then spending another hour listening to your husband recite HIS day.  No falling into bed and hoping your husband goes to sleep before you so you can just READ A BOOK IN PEACE WITH NO ONE WANTING ANYTHING FROM YOU FOR FIVE BLESSED MINUTES.  No drifting off to sleep just as the toddler wakes up coughing.  No repeating it all six hours later.

Just one day.  That's all I want.  Just one.

Comments

[savtadotty]

You'll get many many days like this. In fact all of them. I promise.

[Liza]

Let me get this straight...HE GOT THE CHILD USED TO HAVING A PARENT SIT IN THE ROOM WITH HIM UNTIL HE FALLS ASLEEP?

I have always loved TTD and envied what you guys have.

Until now.

Smack him upside his tall, doctorly head for me, wouldja? Eesh.

[paks]

Thank you for this. I needed to know someone else out there was feeling it too today. Wishing you peace, and both of us more time to read. It's all I long for some days.

[Midwestern Deadbeat]

Oh you poor, poor thing. How I wish I could swoop in with a pitcher of margaritas and a mindless video and enough SweetTarts to rot your teeth. With my magic wand I'd zap all boys away, and we would put our feet up and bliss out for hours and hours....

I hope tomorrow is better.

[Tara]

Yes, I remember those days. The funny thing is how fast it all changes. My baby is going to be 13 in two weeks. Now, I almost miss those days. On Friday nights when I get off work and both girls are headed to a football game with all their friends and even our tiny apartment seems big, I remember how sweet it was when they were hanging all over me while I tried to make dinner. I understand that memories can distort the past.

I don't suppose any of that helps, does it?

[Blythe]

de-lurking here, because wow. i thought I was the only one feeling that way this week. Thank you.

[MJ]

I often feel this way. And then feel extreme guilt because, hey, I wanted children and I decided to stay home with them. I'll pass along a trite (yet true) phrase someone shared with me when my twins were born: "the days are long but the years are short." And it's so very, very true. I look at little babies or toddlers now and I can barely remember it and yet my children are only 5.

[Melissa P.]

Gosh, sounds like my days!
Mine are 12 and 10.
My days still sound like that.
Hang in there!
Perhaps a sitter?

[SugarPixie]

Did I say I wanted kids? I don't think so anymore.

[Monica C.]

I love it when people like Tara (above) say things like, "I remember those days," because that means it gets easier with time. I have a 2 and 4 year old ... and I KNOW it gets easier, despite what people like Melissa P. (above), say! It HAS to get easier! LOL!

[Terry]

I am de-lurking because this post is how I feel every damn day of my life.

I love my children. To pieces. All 5 of them. (They are spaced out over a period of 15 years & the oldest is in college, but I've basically lived the life you describe since 1987).

Summer was hell. All 4 boys home. You captured so well how physically & spiritually grinding it all is, day after day. Sometimes I will stay up after my husband goes to bed (even though I'm exhausted & I know I'll be even more exhausted in the morning) because I want to be by myself, to be quiet, to think, to read, to eat a complete meal, to spend more than 1 minute in the bathroom without "Mom!" being shreiked from some part of the house.

I actually admitted to my husband yesterday: when our last one is grown & gone (not happening for at least 14 more years), I will not be devastated. Maybe a bit sad, but not desolate. Why? Not because I don't love him, as I said, all my children are my life, my joy, I wouldn't change one thing about the choices I've made, but because I will be ready. After getting five children from babyhood to adulthood, I will be ready.

Thanks for this post, it just resonated within the very core of my being!

[jo(e)]

Wow. I've been there. I can remember this feeling so clearly.

I wish I could come take your kids and give you a day to yourself.

[Bihari]

Thanks, everyone! I half expected to get smacked upside the head for the self-pity here, but instead you are so understanding it makes me want to weep. Also, half of you are in the trenches with me, which is encouraging to know.

Terry: five? Wow!

[Melissa @ Organized Chaos]

Amen!

[bubandpie]

Just got here from the Perfect Posts.

This one is more than perfect - it's a print-out-and-tape-to-the-fridge kind of post.

[annieb]

I know it's hard but try to enjoy every minute with them. I had four and I used to send them upstairs at either 9 or 10 pm (depending upon age) to their rooms so that I could a small amount of peace and quiet at the end of the day. When they were small I would send them to their rooms to "read" in bed for a half hour before going to sleep. My oldest just got married, my youngest away at school. There are days that there is too much peace and quiet. Enjoy them while you can.

[little miss]

A perfect post indeed! I have had days like these, I can relate OH SO WELL.

thanks for making me feel like I'm not alone as a mother with young children!

[the mad momma]

you know, we have it so much easier in india. even the poorest of families have househelp or the traditional joint family system where you have loads of help with the house and kids from your in-laws. it has its drawbacks but you get lots of little moments of peace. i wish i could fly you down here for a day of blissful laziness!!! and oh.. you just made me count my blessings... thanks...

on that selfish note... let me also say that I admire you so so much.. you and all the other blogging mothers who have such packed days yet find the time to blog. hats off to you.

[tawny]

This is beyond a perfect post from Masked Mom, this is reality. I hope you get more than one day and when you do, tell us how you did it. Amazing is what you are and hats off to you.