When I fantasized about being a mom, I thought my day would go something like this.
Wake up. Shower and get dressed in decent clothes with all my jewelry on, and nice shoes, and do my hair and makeup.
Wake all of my children up. Help the little one(s) get dressed, and the older one(s) would dress themselves.
We would all come downstairs together where we would eat plain Cheerios with fresh strawberries on top, and a tiny pinch of Stevia.
We would leave the house with plenty of time and sing songs as we walked to the bus stop.
Exercise, snack, story time, craft time, lunch, then nap.
In the evening, we would all do our part in helping with dinner, and my husband and I would take turns preparing a healthy meal.
After dinner, we would play a board or card game, go outside for a bit, and come back in for baths, story time again, and then bed time. We would say a family prayer, kiss them goodnight, and they would fall blissfully asleep, and my husband and I would watch a wholesome romantic comedy or our favorite sitcom together.
Now, my day goes something like this:
I am awakened by a kid who's in my bed because the zombies were attacking him in his dreams. Another kid comes in crying really loud because he can't find his blankie, which in turn wakes up the baby, who is hungry and needs to eat right then, or the world will cease to exist. I send the older ones downstairs to watch a cartoon while I tend to the baby.
The younger two are still in pj's while I get the older one his clothes for the day. I rummage through his drawer for socks and underwear, because the last clean pair isn't in the right drawer. During this time, I hear "Hey, fight me. " Laugh, laugh, whack, whack, scream and cry. Then one child comes to me crying that the other one hurt/hit him. I get out captain crunch berries, or cinnamon toast crunch for breakfast, probably forget the spoons, and napkins along the way.
After demanding the oldest get dressed, the baby falls asleep, and the middle one spills juice all over the floor.
Now I have to wake the baby, we run out the door with pj's still on and hair def. not brushed, and lunch hasn't been made, only to see the bus pass by. The big boy hauls butt to the next bus stop, and I realize my garage door, and the door leading into my house are wide open. GREAT!!!
This is all before 8:45 am.
I would divulge the rest, but I'm sure you get the picture. (And most of you can relate, right?)
And even though life with kids is not like I expected, I'm OK with this chaos. Because when I put them to bed at night, and kiss their little foreheads, I realize I'm blessed to be able to give and receive love from these little ones that I've been entrusted with here on Earth.
