The other morning I took my son to school in my pajamas as usual. No big deal, I don’t have to get out of the car or get near enough to anyone for them to discover I have not yet showered and brushed my teeth and hair. The extra 20 minutes of sleep are well worth the trade off…most days anyway.

On this particular day I decided that I should also stop by the grocery store to pick up soup for my sick boy at home. It was going to be a bit of a sacrifice if I happened to run into someone I knew, but I needed to do it before Travis left for work and I was forced to throw sick kids in the car.

I don’t per say keep track of what’s in my checking account. That may be why Trav has given me my own account so that I don’t end up spending ALL of the money or something. I was still quite surprised when my card was declined and the man in line behind me had to wait as they re-scanned each item and put it aside for me while I called my husband in a panic. Since our internet was down at home there was no way for him to bail me out by transferring money as he has done so many times before. I stood only a few small feet away from the examining eyes of the clerk as I explained I would have to come back later. I could see the judgment in her eyes as the traveled from my nappy hair, to my pink pj’s, and all the way down to my warm Roxy boots. All the way home I just kept asking myself, “what was I thinking”!!!

I was so excited when I could finally put away the diaper bag and the “moist toilettes”. No longer would I have to roll up my sleeves, hold my breath and remove human discharge from a wiggling child’s bottom while trying desperately NOT to get any on me. But then came the calls from the bathroom. “Moooommyyy”…..then even louder,”MOOMMMMYYYYYYY”. ” I need help wiping my bottom.” I doesn’t sound like that big of a transition, but the mess I use to remove with a handy dandy wipey is now much more difficult with a less sturdy piece of toilet paper. Darn, where are my plastic gloves when I need them! I tried to show them how to do it on their own, but when it comes down to the truth, kids don’t want the dirty job either. So the battle of the wills begins.

After months of the calling out from the bathroom and strained affirmation announced back by me, “you can do it, your a big boy now!” they finally gave up, but not without continued torture. Phase Two of the transition began when a naked child approached me, pants down, and fully bent over he says, “Mom, did I get it all?” Choking down the last bite of my lunch, I made the mistake of answering his question while staring into his “big brown eye” (if ya know what I mean). I really do not recommend this unless you want the phase to last longer. When I finally learned my lesson and refused to open my eyes and look anymore, the boys needed to find another way to torture me. Clogging the toilet with as much TP as they could possibly stuff into it was not enough. Nor was putting dirty toilet paper into the garbage. Come on, we don’t live in Mexico or Brazil. That is something I had only seen while on the mission field!

Phase Three, just when I think it’s all over, I find a child standing on the bathroom sink, bent over, butt to the mirror, several squares in hand ready for any missed spots that the mirror may expose. I really felt the mom part of me saying I needed to do something to stop this madness, but the lady in me went into self preservation mode. I picked my jaw off of the floor and quietly walked away. What I don’t know or go into denial about, won’t hurt me…I hope.

I should have got had my hopes up. I know that I generally don’t like Mondays. I know that I don’t bounce back easily when woken up before 7am. I had set GOALS for myself. It was too good to be true.

The boys were not focusing, they struggled with their attitudes a little, but we made it. Now for my fourth and final goal since I had already worked out, cleaned the kitchen, and did school. I was finally going to fold and put away the three baskets of laundry that had been sprawled out across my bedroom floor for the past two weeks. I figured I had no choice since, my laundry room is now piled high with laundry in need of washing. Laundry, for me, feels like a prison, actually more like slavery. I am stuck doing it, without pay and only a small glimmer of hope that one day everyone will do their own and I can finally be free. Someday, maybe my family will appreciate me as a person and not just as a wife and mother who has nothing better in life to do, but pick up after them. So call me a dreamer!

I thought I got my big break when the boys were playing so nicely together on the couch. They must have sensed it. The brothers decided that in order to continue their nice play, they were going to need the Rescue Hero toys from outside, the ones that had been out their since before all the rain had turned our backyard into a mud pit infested with flies and mosquitos. Being the loving mom that I am I sprayed on the bug spray, untangled the hose and set out to clean these nasty toys so that they could be brought into my home and touched by my precious children. The little police car cleaned off fast, the mid size Rescue boat…..impossible, the large ship took quite awhile, but after the hose didn’t take the slime off, I got the Clorox wipes out and fine detailed it. When I brought everything in the boys explained to me that the boat that was still outside was the most important toy that they needed. I said that they would have to share the large boat because the other one will NEVER be allowed in my house. It was then that they informed me that they did not like the other boat anymore, the one I had spent most of my time on.

I was now filthy, and wet and could not put off taking a shower as a reward for completing my daily goals.

Feeling motivated again after my shower, I got started right away. I began to get frustrated again when a couple of items looked like they had been worn. I decided to sniff a pair of my husbands underwear to see if my suspicions were warranted. Why I breathed in so deeply I do not know, but I still have the stench of BUTT in my nostrils. I guess I need to post a sign on the baskets since no one hears me telling them that the clothes in the basket are CLEAN!

I was nearly finished and thinking I just may even get to the pile in the laundry room too. I was fantasizing about how happy my hubby would feel when he came home and of spending the rest of the evening painting my toe nails or doing something just for me, when Isaac ran in declaring an emergency. The toilet was overflowing. Maybe I didn’t really believe him, maybe I was in shock, but I did not get up immediately and run to the bathroom in question. I kept telling myself that I needed to hurry, but I felt like I was moving in slow motion. When I got there, I found myself in about an inch and a half of poop water. I had to step into it in order to shut the water off. These are the kind of things I use to call out “MOM!!!!”But now I am that person. The next thing I found when looking for towels was that they were all, except three, already wet in the washer. This was going to drag on my dealings with this disgust. I would now have to come in and finish the job later. If I had to find a bright side to this part of my story it would be that tonight I get to buy all new towels.

Tuesdays are usually better. Maybe I will finish my goals tomorrow.

I have told this story to a few people already, but it is one of Trav’s personal favorites. I had to take the boys to the fabric store with me a while back. That is something that I will never do again unless I know exactly what I want. It took twice as long with three boys competing for my attention. I was finally getting somewhere when they had to go potty. So, with several fabric bolts in hand and pushing the stroller all the way to the back of the store, I decide to wait right outside the door while they went in without me. I was a bit grouchy, I will admit that, so when Isaac came out so excited that he had bought me something he may have been disappointed by my reaction. After all, his voice was loud and he was waiving around a tampon that he had purchased from the vending machine inside.