What Do You Do All Day?

I'm very lucky to have surrounded myself with people who do not ask this question, because, well, they know. But, for you who wonder what a Stay At Home Mom does all day, here's a snapshot at today. (This first part is pretty routine for those SAHMs that might be reading it, so skip down to, "I filled...")

After waking up naturally at 5:30 (then proceeding to snooze for 30 minutes because we decided to stay up late to finish Lost), I got up, got my kids fed, got my husband's breakfast and lunch ready, unloaded and loaded the dishwasher and got the toddler's clothes. I started a load of pee-accident laundry, then proceeded to purged our cedar chest of all blankets and sheet sets that do not fit on our upgraded bed to be donated to charity. I then moved the rest of the linen's from the linen closet and deposited them into the chest. At this point I got all the children down from the table and told the girls to go get dressed before starting Cassia and Camellia on their online preschool while Jewel Plant played.

I snuck into the bathroom for a rare mid-week shower, that was immediately followed by helping kids figure out reading and math, while I ate my breakfast. When they were settled and able to continue unassisted, I snuck back into the bathroom to reorganize the linen closet, which, if you haven't figured out, does not hold linens, but soaps and other bathroom essentials.

After finishing in the bathroom and helping kids with preschool, we played a little while before putting Jewel Plant down for his nap. The girls and I picked up the Easter grass from one bedroom and the hall and cleaned up the entry way. Then, as they road bikes and played in the yard, I cleaned out and organized the mess the garage became in winter (we'd love to park either vehicle in there, but they're both too long, ugh), gathering more items to either sell or donate.

Afterward I got lunch ready, and got Jewel Plant up and ate. It took 30 minutes to get everyone's shoes on and in the car because my sweet spirited Camellia has fully embraced the terrorist threes in the last month and was very upset that we couldn't ride the bike with trailer to the store that was 5 miles away. (Being 15 weeks pregnant and adding an extra 75-100 pounds of weight to my bike just wasn't going to happen for a 16 mile round trip ride.)

After getting the groceries we needed and running the errand my husband needed, we finally got home with enough time to run our last errand via bike, but with the tantrum prior to leaving we couldn't do that, so they played while I took a "nap" and planned to run that last errand alone.

After preparing and serving them dinner I took a minute to answer a phone call from one of my sisters. As I was on the phone they were ready for a bath. As I entered the bathroom I thought back to my shower and how the bathtub wasn't draining, so there was certainly a hair clog that needed to be manually removed. I felt prompted to clean it, but decided to do it later. This is where things got interesting.

I filled the tub and was letting the kids play (no soap yet, Jewel Plant can't be stopped from drinking the water, if he doesn't have a cup or lid he'll use his hands) and I pulled out the glass cleaner, deciding to take a moment (still on the phone) to clean up the mirror and the surfaces that looked like they hadn't been cleaned in a year (spoiler, I cleaned them about two weeks ago). Just as I finished the mirror Cassia got out to use the toilet, and just as she was finishing my sweet Jewel Plant pooped in the tub. Well, I guess the living room isn't getting picked up before bedtime, there won't be time after what's coming. Immediately ending my phone call, I pulled him out and into the bathroom sink to wash him off, of course his wet hands straight away covered 70% of the mirror that was just washed, and had the other two wait while the tub drained, ever so slowly (I only put about 6" of water in the tub, or less). Once he was diapered and dried I removed the toys and cleaning cloths to the sink to wash them; the tub was still draining. After an eternity I could finally wash the rest of the poop down the drain and quickly bleach the tub and rinse it. At this point I decided that it's better late than never to head a prompting and removed the hair clog.

Refilling the tub, this time as a bubble bath to make sure the kids got extra clean, I let all three kids back in the tub, removing Jewel Plant after 3 warnings to stop eating the bubbles, so, less than 30 seconds. I finished cleaning the counters, toilet and picked up the floor, even dealing with the overflowing bathroom recycling and got the girls out and had everyone brush their teeth. After an explanation about why the PJs that were already out were the ones that were going to be worn (gotta love that Camellia) and having our nightly routine and tucking everyone in to bed, I went upstairs to prepare dinner for the adults. (You know, a salad because who has time to do more than up greens and toss them in a bowl?) As I made dinner I reached in to my pocket and found a block. Where did it come from? No clue, it must have appeared out of thin air.

Toys are still scattered around the living room, there's a load of dishes still waiting to be unloaded and another load to go in, there's a pile of papers that need to be filed away, a load of laundry in the dryer needing to be put away and one errand to be run and that's the way it will stay, apart from the errand, until tomorrow. Why? Because after having an hour with my husband it's time to have me time. You know, going to the store alone, and getting in the first bike ride of the season, second of the year because now that the air is clean.

So, what do I do all day? Everything you would pay to have someone else do for you and more. You can pay for someone to do just about everything you don't wan to do, except exercise. So, when you go over to a SAHM's house and wonder why it looks like it does, and why she's twilight-napping out on the couch while the children play, now you know. It might look like she's done nothing, but trust me, so much has been accomplished and you'll never see any of it.

Life After Kids: The Tale of a Clean House

    This post is not about what my children have done, well, at least not directly, but I wanted to share, so there you have it.
    Tonight, well, technically last night, you know, Thursday night, not right now, Friday morning... Anywho, last night I stayed up until midnight so I could get my girls signed up for tumbling tots at one of the local recreation centers. The only one in the county that has a tumbling tots program. The same one that the slot for 2 year olds fills up faster than a blink, so if I didn't stay up the class would be full before I got a chance to get on sometime in between nail polish fiascoes and syrup slip-n-slides. I had to do something leading up to that marathon of staying awake, that, mind you, I just got myself out of for the first time since Cassia was born. (Long story short, my husband deployed just before our first baby was born and I stayed up until 2 am to be able to talk to him most nights, so yeah, I didn't sleep much. Then, after our second was born he deployed again. For non-math majors, that means he got home, we got pregnant and he deployed 12 months later. I had never switched back from the previous deployment, so when he got home and, you guessed it, we got pregnant again, I didn't both switching back. I only mastered the 9-10pm bedtime in the last month.)
    Where was I? Oh yeah, doing something to keep myself awake. I started by taking the dog on a walk so I had energy to stay up. And once we were home I cleaned. I cleaned the bathroom.

 

 I cleaned the living room.

I cleaned the kitchen.

 

And when all the cleaning was done I sat and I reveled in the clean. (No need to clean the children's rooms, they're always clean.)
    Side note: Last night I got some estimates on how much it would be to get a maid in here once a month to do the stuff I just don't want to do, like dishes and laundry, the price of that spurred me to action to get some of it done.
     My house used to be clean. When we were first married and living in student housing at my university we won awards for how clean my house was. I loved cleaning and organizing. I had so much energy to do it, but not after kids. My house is never that clean anymore, much to my chagrin. Even now, as I write this, my house is not clean. I can see popcorn under the sofa and the entertainment cart and I know there is popcorn under the chair I'm sitting in. (All left over from last week's, "Let's watch a special movie and eat special popcorn so mama can get something done on the computer that she's been putting off for weeks," event. I know it was vacuumed up, but apparently a 14 year old's version of vacuuming and mine are different, but I don't care because it wouldn't have been done otherwise.
    So I sat, reveling in the clean and decided to catch up on a show, because it doesn't matter that my kids go to bed at 6pm, the two year old has to pee thirty times before bed so she doesn't have an accident at night and wake me up, and the four year old thinks bed time is the time to tell me every story in her head, so I never actually get to watch programs when they air. I closely watched the clock so I could get on as quickly as possible and get them signed up for their classes. 12:02 and we were all settled with classes, but I still didn't go to sleep. I reveled some more...and then I put on another episode.
    My house is "clean". Just don't go into my bedroom or the laundry room and the house is clean, but that's not a part of the house anyway, really, they are outer darkness where things go to die. It won't win any awards. It's nowhere near as clean as I would like it, but I can sit here and feel complete because my house is clean, my children are in bed (and haven't made a sound since 8pm. The baby has been asleep for 6 hours straight!) and that is a big accomplishment. A bigger accomplishment than I ever knew it would be after having kids. Enjoy the pictures. They're more for the next time I think, "I need a maid because my house will never be clean again. Ever!" So, the next time you're feeling like your place will never be clean, just remember, it can happen occasionally.

Syrup

      On February 25, I'm sitting in the brown reclining, nursing the baby while the kids eat. I look over and notice Camellia's not in her seat. "Camellia, what are you doing?" That's when it happened.
      "Camellia spilled!" Cassia reported.
      "Well, clean it up. Get the towels out and help her, please, Cassia."
      When Jewel Plant finished nursing I went in to help and the full scope of what had happened hit me. Camellia had not spilled water, as I had thought, but cooling syrup. Over the counter, down the dishwasher, splattered on the stove, and dripping in gooey puddles all over the floor.

      Sweeping before moping wasn't an option at this point, so we got down to business, which of course means taking off your clothes if you're two or four. (Maybe I shouldn't have let them take a "mopping bath" that one time to try and make mopping fun, but the damage is done, no going back.)
      Lesson number who-knows-what in The Children's Handbook states to make sticky messes by being independent as often as possible. I'm just grateful the syrup had cooled and hadn't caused burns on anyone and that the glass syrup container hadn't broken when she knocked it over on the tile counter tops. I really got luck, too, because not a single drop of syrup got on the lids I had put on the counter to reorganize after breakfast.

Mani-Pedis

     

       The sound of my husband's call, "Lela, come in here. Lela, come now, hurry!" was terrifying. He sounded panicked. Thoughts burst in my head of who was hurt and how. The sharp knives that had been on the counter were in the dishwasher, and it was still running, I could hear it, but did they get into the knife block?! I was half laying on the bed watching Jewel Plant as he woke up and was looking around. We had just gotten out of the shower. I chose showering over taking the dog on her walk and over food. I couldn't remember the last time I had a shower, but I smelled awful, so I changed my priorities today. Luckily I had already finished getting dressed, so I rushed out.
       The smell hit me like a ton of bricks. I had smelled it faintly as I got dressed, but I hadn't registered what the smell was. As my eyes found Camellia I learned that the sound in Sam's voice was not panic, but amusement being held back. Covered from head to toe in yellow nail polish. You see, yesterday we did mani-pedis, my attempt to give the girls some better one-on-one attention. They wanted me to do my nails too, so as the day went on I eventually got mine all done, except I wanted to finish my toes, so I left out my yellow polish and my topcoat.

       Sam looked down at Camellia and she looked up at him and in her most darling two year old voice said, "I paint my nails!" He lost it. He held his breath and turned around and let it rush out in a very poorly concealed laugh. Seeing his amusement sparked my own, and I too turned to try and hide my amusement. Then panic really set in. Where did this occur?!?! Do I need to scrub yellow out of the carpet? Where was the top coat? We set out to uncover the mystery. From everywhere we looked the carpet was spared from this yellow carnage, but how? I looked to the table and reclining chair I had been doing nails on and saw nothing.
       "The top coat is gone too, where's Cassia?" I had missed the sound until that point when it registered that Cassia was running water in the kitchen sink. Sam went to investigate.
       "The polish is under the table, and in front of the stove. I found your top coat, only it's just water now." She had filled it up. At least she hadn't dumped it out on the dishes first. Apparently she pays attention to when I make our foaming hand soap and thought that the same principle could be used with the nail polish.
       Sam then found the bottle of yellow nail polish, it too was covered in yellow. I haven't dared look at the dishes, but I'm sure they were spared from the havoc. If not, life goes on and dishes are easy to wash.
       I transferred the girls to the bathtub to try and loosen the polish and got the baby sitting in the Bumbo in the bathroom so he wouldn't be all alone. Sam left for work as I retrieved the cotton balls and acetone.
       Camellia removed herself from the bath and dried off and I got to work scrubbing her down with acetone soaked cotton balls. Face. Hair. Fingers. Arms. Thighs. Toes. Feet. Tummy. I found polish in places I didn't think it could go, but after 30 minutes she was finally cleaned off and back in the tub to get the acetone off of her body.

 

       By this point Jewel Plant was crying so I nursed him while Cassia dried herself off, all the while screaming, "It hurts, it hurts!" When I inquired as to what hurts she said that me using the cotton balls on her was going to hurt. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my four year old is a drama queen. She has been since birth.
       Mostly satisfied, I set Jewel Plant aside and got to work on removing the polish from Cassia, who immediately started laughing because the cotton balls tickled. She then bathed and then the two of them cleaned up the nail polish and we could finally have a sit down.
       "Why did you get nail polish?"
       "We wanted to paint our nails in our house." (Under the table is their "house" "in the game.")
       "If you'd asked, we could have painted nails again today."
       "We know."
       As I put Jewel Plant down for his nap my fear from the moment Sam called for me came true, almost. I walked into the kitchen to find the two year old with scissors and the four year old holding a bag of chocolates from Christmas chocolates, trying to cut it open. I declared, "Naps all around!" And put them in bed.
       And that is how we came to not go on a bike ride immediately after breakfast, like I'd promised the girls we would do.
       The Child's Handbook must state, somewhere around the chapter on being two, that they must get into make-up. I do believe it was around this same age that Cassia started getting into make-up. Not mine, I own nail polish, that's it, but other peoples. She was found in my sister's mother-in-law's room, under the bed, with a $20 tube of lipstick smeared all over the bottom of the bed. Though, I do know Cassia was the person to open the nail polish, Camellia hasn't figured out how to twist things off yet.

Potty Training Attempt #5,000 Results...

Drum roll please.... She did it! She's trained! Camellia is finally out of diapers and Pull-Ups and is taking herself potty! I mean, yeah, I still take her in every hour if she hasn't already taken herself, but her accidents are getting fewer and farther in between. There's only been two or three nights since we started this, two weeks ago, that she hasn't been dry at night. The days are harder for her to stay dry, but she's getting better. I'm so proud of my baby girl! She doesn't typically have poop accidents either, so it's a double win.

Potty training Cassia was a snap. It took 3 days of intense potty training and 2 weeks of steady training and she was done. It took a long time for the accidents to stop, and we had months of dry beds and a few months of wet beds, and then the cycle would start over, but we're finally out of that cycle (I hope). Now with Camellia's potty training experience, and adding my nannying potty training experience, I've learned the Child's Handbook must say, "Potty training, you've got two choices: make it difficult for your parents if you're an easy child, but if you're a difficult child, make it easy on them, they deserve a break.

Not so Unconditional Love

For the last couple of months Cassia has taken to using toilet paper as toy. She unrolls so much, then leaves it there, she uses lot for "my party" and then there are the times she's actually using it for its purpose and she has to have a perfect square or it's not good enough and she drops the ones she won't use on the floor. I'm desperate to stop her from wasting toilet paper, any ideas? My last one failed:

"Cassia, do you think it shows daddy you love him when you waste toilet paper?"
"I don't always love daddy," she said seriously, so of course my response was a very poorly concealed laugh of, "What do you mean, "you don't always love daddy"?"
"I don't love daddy when he's at work."
"Oh, you don't?"
"No, I only love daddy when he's here."
"Daddy has to work. If he didn't work we wouldn't live in a house, or have toilet paper, or food, or a car. We'd have nowhere to live, and be so hungry we would die."
"I want to have a house, and food, and clothes, but beautiful clothes, not hand-me-downs from my friends and cousins, and I want daddy to be here all the time because I don't love him when he's at work."

Apparently the child's handbook doesn't come with instructions on unconditional love, it's something that they just have to learn on their own. Darn.

Potty Training

      Camellia has been begging me to potty train her since April of last year. One day she said she needed to poop, walked into the bathroom, I placed her on the toilet and she pooped. I tried to potty train her after that and it didn't work. She'd pee and say, "I need to pee!" We tried off and on for the rest of the year, never having much success. I finally decided to get down to business and train her at the beginning of December and then she got a stomach bug that gave her diarrhea on day two of potty training. Needless to say I gave up again.
      Yesterday, upon waking up, somehow Camellia made it upstairs and to the bathroom without Sam or I noticing. We found her coming out of the bathroom with panties on and her Pull-Up off as she announced, "I'm potty training!" The night before, we had heard her in the bathroom grunting. We found her standing in front of the toilet and a log on the floor. We should have known what the morning would hold for me, but, alas, we did not.
      I am still not ready to put any effort into potty training, so I let her take herself. She had two pee accidents and pooped in the toilet and one successful peeing in the toilet after, "I need to pee!" And she literally held herself as she ran to the bathroom. She made it with dry panties!
      This morning I ignored that she was wearing a Pull-Up after I had asked her if she wanted to change them and she said no. My mother-in-law was here so I could go to a cooking class, and while I was at the cooking class Camellia announced, "I'm potty trained!" And put on her panties. She didn't have any accidents while I was gone, and went once before we to Grandma to the train, and once before bed. The only reason why she had an accident when we got home was because I didn't insist on her trying when we got home. Instead, I found her in the bathroom trying to pull off her pants that she had peed in when she was in the bathroom trying to make it on time. I think we might actually be successful with her potty training herself this time.
      I tried to get her into a Pull-Up tonight and she resisted, "No! Flower panties!" And she ran into my room, opened the dresser, and pulled out plastic training pants. Not really ideal for night time, the last time she used them at night she got a rash, but she insisted she wear them and not Pull-Ups, so there's no point fighting her. I've got the butt cream ready to go for the morning. I'm interested to see if she can potty train herself with minimal help from me or if I'll finally find some desire to only be changing one kid's diaper everyday and really take the time to train her.