Posts Tagged ‘children’

  1. I Failed Today

    March 29, 2017 by Melanie Faris

    I got out of bed at 8 am today, but first I woke up at midnight, then 2 am, 3 am, 5 am, and 7 am. It was a long night with a newborn, and my energy was lacking for the day before it even began. I could hear my sick little girl coughing down the hall, and soon after, little pitter pats on the floor making it’s way to my room. The day was about to begin, and I’ve missed my opportunity to shower.

    With greasy hair and a milk stained shirt, I roll out of bed and make my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth and throw my hair in a ponytail. If I don’t get dressed now, chances are I will stay in my pajamas until noon. So I put on some clean clothes and a quick swipe of mascara. I probably won’t leave the house today, but someone might show up here and I should look like I’ve got my act together. Even if my only visitor is the FedEx guy bringing me something I just can’t leave the house to buy.

    I see the overflowing laundry bin out of the corner of my eye while I hurriedly brush my teeth – the laundry that I’ve been ignoring for days. I haul it out of my room and put it near the top of the stairs so that I can’t ignore it anymore. At some point today I will bring it down to wash. Or that’s the intention at least.

    I go back to my room to grab the baby, and on the way, I pick up the dirty diapers I tossed carelessly on the floor throughout the night. I’m scanning the room for any diapers I missed when suddenly I see my toddler wiping her boogers all over my bed sheets. I guess I need to wash those at some point now too.

    She’s reaching for the baby. Not the baby!!!

    “Hi baby Ben!” she says, as she pats his little head with her booger fingers. How sweet. I panic that the newborn will catch her nasty sickness, so I drop everything and run to grab him.

    With a baby in one arm, and a toddler hanging onto my leg crying for a banana, we finally make our way to the stairs. I try to carry them both, but the toddler insists she wants to walk down by herself while carrying two of her favourite blankies and her stuffed dog. So we slowly make our way down the stairs, one toddler step at a time.

    My husband is running around trying to make breakfast, coffee, and clean up yesterday’s dishes. He’s late for work. I’m tempted to ask him to hold the crying baby or wipe some boogers, but then I remember… he was up at 12 am, 3 am and 5 am reassuring a sick little girl that she is going to be alright. He ended up sleeping in bed with her. We all survived another night, but the day was just beginning…

    I wasn’t sure how the day would pan out, but I knew it would involve The Wiggles on replay, every crayon we own being tossed on the floor, picking up the shredded the toilet paper that’s bound to be all over (toddlers do this best), intermittent vacuuming, all the while nursing a baby and wiping toddler boogers…oh and possibly a nap. Dear God, please let there be a nap.

    After a long day, I can’t wait to lie down and sleep. Between a sick toddler and a hungry baby, I don’t know how much sleep is in store for this Momma. I remind myself how short this phase of life is. There’s many years of sleep ahead of me, just not this year. The days are hectic, but I’m treasuring these busy, not always easy moments with my two precious children.

    I wonder how people survive with twins, or how they get anything done with more than two kids…I admire Mothers. Especially those who have time to shower AND blow dry their hair. I’m not there yet, but one day I will be. In the meantime, I’m accepting the fact that I’m not perfect at this whole Mommy thing. It’s not easy. It’s really not easy. If I need to put the TV on to entertain my toddler so I can nurse a crying baby, then I will.

    This isn’t forever, but it’s today. 

    If failing means I don’t get the chance to put on my makeup, or keep a clean house, or make a homemade meal, then I choose to fail. Failing is so worth it. And even though I feel as if I failed today, there are two innocent, sweet children who look at me like I’m their whole world. Because I am. And that’s the greatest reward there is.