A typical morning for us, child is age 20 months:
Fed kid breakfast while making lunches for everyone. Got kid dressed and headed for the bathroom
to take a shower, with kid in tow. Was
intercepted by Husband who wanted me to put lotion on his back because he can’t
reach. While putting lotion on his back
I hear the shower start – Uncle in the other bathroom. So I turn on cartoons for the kid and hang
out with him for a few minutes while Husband finishes dressing and Uncle
showers. When he’s done I close all the
doors and strip for my shower while the kid pulls things off the counter. I ignore it and get in the shower. I soon am joined by Husband’s deodorant canister
and a plastic cup. Whatever. Husband comes in and takes the kid somewhere
else and soon I hear crying because Husband has no clue what our routine
is. I finish my shower and the kid comes
bouncing back in and Husband asks if he can leave yet. I say goodbye and then try to get dressed
while the kid clings to my leg. We brush
our teeth. Well I brush mine while the
kid throws things into the sink for me to try not to spit on. I empty the sink three times. I brush the kid’s teeth. I put on makeup with one hand while being
pushed away from the mirror by the kid so he can ransack the cabinets
beneath. The kid is chewing on
something. I pull a piece of broken
plastic out of his mouth and soon realize that the lid to my deodorant has
shattered due to being thrown around the room so many times. I pry the kid off of my leg so I can spray
perfume on myself but not him. He cries
and runs out of the bathroom. I pick
everything off the floor and put it all back where it goes, close the door
behind me. Kid is back from his
mysterious errand by now and helps me by emptying my sock drawer onto the
floor. I put on a pair of socks which
have a hole in the toe. I take them off
and search out another pair. Meanwhile
kid has escaped bedroom and runs off to bother Uncle who is about to leave and
has left every door in the house open, again.
I put on my socks while he announces the kid has pooped. I put on shoes and find the kid, take him to
his changing table and discover he is clean and dry. I redress him. Say goodbye to Uncle who skipped off to work
without a care in the world. I shut all
of the doors, again, and wander off to find my purse, keys, a sweater for the
kid, kid shoes, turn off the unwatched cartoons in my room and shut that door
behind me. Dump all the crap on the
coffee table and realize that the dog has to go out at least once that
day. Head for the kitchen, let the dog
out, put the kid back in, and start making his juice cups. Take the plants outside, put the kid back in,
pick the empty cups up off of the floor and start to fill them. Hear the neighbor’s dogs start barking at my
dog and look out to realize the dog is caught on the abandoned wheelbarrow out in
the yard, and is stomping all over the berry bushes while trying to bark at the
neighbor dogs. Kid loses his shit when I
push the cups out of his reach so I can get the dog. I untangle the dog, prop up the plants and
get the dog back in the house, and the kid back in the house and am confronted
with spilled milk and juice everywhere.
I lose my shit and start yelling nonsense about the dog ruining
everything. I clean up the mess, lock
the back door, refill the cups, put shoes and sweater on the kid and haul us
and all of our shit to the car so I can go get gas and take kid to daycare
where he clings to me and doesn’t want me to go, ever, and in spite of that and
knowing I’m leaving him with five other toddlers who will bother him all day,
one of whom is obviously oozing snot and another who looks really out of it, I
walk away so I can come here. Then my
husband calls to tell me to have a good day and all I can do is mumble ‘thanks,
you too’.
