Parenting is not for cowards.

So,I’m really just kind of ‘done’ tonight. You could read all of my tweets at the left and piece together the kind of day I’ve had. Maybe it started with the rain and running through it from gym to grocery store, to van then home, then back to van. Then to the high school to get my daughter for a doctors appointment that didn’t exist, that we got into a verbal war over because she wasn’t on time waiting for me etc. There’s also the issue of my not sending her a note, blah, blah, blah. All of the above with my 2 year old niece who’s in town with her Dad who is currently working on what my husband likes to call, Chad vs. basement. 

Little Samantha, Sammy as we call her, is very good, she’s had a few random melt downs here and there, but all in all, she’s a sweety, and she’s 2…which brings me to my next point; Who in tarnation ever said that the 2’s were the worst age because my son is 3 and he’s killing me, quickly. He went to school today, but began reaking havoc very soon thereafter. So, maybe it’s the age, the excitement, maybe he’s coming down with something, maybe he’s just too much like his mama. Maybe it’s me, maybe I have limited coping mechanisms. Maybe me vs. the 3 year old is going to be the biggest battle of my life.

After I picked him up from school I met my teen daughter at the car place to politely decline the extra $400 bill to adjust the bent part of the wheel shaft that somehow mysteriously got damaged. She still has no earthly idea how she caused $600 worth of damage to a car that we only paid $750 for-go figure. Thank heavens for good old fashioned friends like Ed and Renee. Ed spent the evening in his driveway working on our daughters car, their babysitter, who I am sure will be indebted to them for the next several weeks. Oh yeah, Ed did have a break in the monotony of extra-curricular mechanics after he came home from his long day at Cerner…but I’ll get to that in a minute.

 We all get home and I put on a children’s tv show and sit for a sec when my cell rings, it’s another friend from the next street over. She and her husband are jetting off to Vegas for one of his conferences and some much need mommy and daddy time. Meanwhile, her Dad, who her little ones call Papa, has been watching them until their “Margaret” gets there to pick them up. Margaret it essentially Grandma and cares for them often, but there just happened to be a kink in her schedule and Papa’s not exactly the ‘granddaughter watching all the live long day’ type, they’re little, one’s in diapers, they’re girls. So…frantic for a pinch hitter until Margaret can get home from…The Ozarks, she calls me. I oblige. What the hey, it can’t get any worse, right? Wrong. 

I decide I am going to make the steak dinner I had planned anyway, referencing  the Duggar chick, she does it with like, 20 kids, right? What’s five, that’s like…cake. So, I commence the mac n’ cheese for the kids, start the salad, wash the potatoes, when what to my wondering eyes should appear, a 3 year old screaming bloody murder because he wants me to put on his socks. Now a wise person might have just wiped away the tears and put the child’s socks on, but not me. It’s been a long day and I am fully equipped for a fight with a 3 year old, mac n ‘cheese boiling over etc. I talk to him, tell him to bring me the socks, he won’t, he continues to rant and rave, it’s getting louder, I put him in his room, over and over again. Thank God my teenage daughter has come up from her cave to help me with the girls while I deal with him, so things are remotely under control at this point. I finally get him calmed down, my husband makes the steaks, we all have a great dinner. Afterwards, I take the kids outside, my husband and his brother head to Lowe’s and I decide to descend on the Harper’s, just a few houses down the street and around the corner.

It was like magic how it all happened, black magic. As I’m pushing my 3 year old son and my niece in the double stroller, Lexi the 1 1/2 year old pushes my dog in the umbrella stroller and the two 5 year olds lead us. About the time we approach the house, the two in the double stroller are throwing down, UFC style, and Owen bites into Sammy something fierce, I see blood, she stops breathing, like total pissed off I’m mad “and” I’m hurt and breathing is not an option right now kind of cry. Then she starts to cough, and choke. I’m hearing the tight cough and congestion she’s had this week in her chest not moving and she’s just gagging in Renee’s yard, she purple, I’m trying to hold her parallel to the ground, she’s fighting me and stiff as a board, all the while coughing and gagging, and purple. Ed shows up with some paper towels, Renee is at my side, all the kids are gathered round, then my husband and his brother, her dad, pull up to ask me a question before heading off to Lowe’s. I tell Chad to get out and come help, meanwhile we’re making progress as evidenced by a small pile of mac n’ cheese, hotdogs, and phlem in the front yard of the Harper’s. She’s starting to pink up but there is blood blisters around her eyes, I tell Renee, we’re leaving, she tries to tell me it’s cool to stay, I decline citing not wanting to pass this cursed day off onto her. As I make my way up the street with my five children, two of whom are still screaming, I see that she has come after me, trying to give me a hand, and her two are hot on her heels screaming as well. Ed, her husband comes after them, there is a small scuffle, some screaming and crying, and thus begins the, “glad she stopped by” moment that I am sure Renee is having.

My husband is back at the house waiting for me when I get home, he decided to stay home from Lowe’s and help me. He takes the boy, I am glad. I get the three girls in the tub, give one an albuterol treatment, finish all their baths, snuggle them up with a movie in my bed and wait for Maragret. She showed up about an hour later, and I’m still alive and so are all the kids. I have three left here in the house, they’re asleep, and I’m dumping my day on you. 

I’m just glad it’s over, I’m going to bed, boot-camp in the am, and Grandma’s coming to visit, now there’s a reason to smile.


About rolanda

Forty-something, married to a great guy with a stellar beard, we have 3 children, 2 granny babies and super cool son-in-law. I home school my kids because I love to be around them, I hope they turn out ok. I am a pediatric nurse and I live near the Kansas City area. I like vintage things. I love people, coffee and Jesus and I also love to write.
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3 Responses to Parenting is not for cowards.

  1. Leslie B says:

    Wow. You deserve a month of GNO after that!


  2. Renee says:

    You forgot the “Stephan and Ed tell Ethan he stepped in the puke” part – which made my little terror go running screaming bloody murder into the garage. That was fun too;)

    Hey, what’s life without a little excitement here and there??


  3. Stacey says:

    WOW! I owe you big!



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