On getting back to reality

I’m taking a break from writing about the peaceful, beautiful time we had in the Lake District to reflect on my first day back to the grind.  The feeling of ‘back to reality’ is one that many people can relate to on this, the first Monday of the new year, and I’m somewhat comforted by the thought that probably most of my friends have had similar experiences to mine today.

Last night, at 12:06 am, after trying and failing to sleep, I abandoned my bed and went upstairs to sleep with the girls on a futon in their room.  There I tossed and turned and tried to block out the lights that they insist on having on throughout the night. I considered turning out the lights, but that would inevitably have resulted in one or the other of them waking up, scared, crying. So I curled up in a ball with a pillow over my head and had bad dreams about altercations with my neighbors (something to do with a Mardi Gras party that I didn’t invite them to).

Of course I overslept and our day started off in chaos as usual.  School shoes had to be found and gloves were lost.  A brief altercation over trousers or dresses ensued. Bowls of cereal tumbled off the counter and onto the girls’ clothes, so up they went to change again.  The cat and dog paced and panted, wanting to be fed, needing to be let out, needing to be let back in again.  The coffee was weak and ten minutes before we were supposed to leave, I was still standing around in my purple bathrobe and with my hair sticking straight up. So much for resolutions.

Before Christmas, and for various reasons that I won’t get into, I rashly decided to reduce Millie’s nursery days from four full days a week to only two full days a week.  At the time, it seemed like a good idea.  My little girl wasn’t happy so I was going to make things better by letting her stay home and be with me until something better came along!  We live in North London and I know better than to think that a nursery place in the school of my choice is going to spontaneously appear when I need it to...but that's kind of what I thought would happen.  And, surprise!  It hasn't.  Now, after our first day of togetherness, I’m wondering if I didn’t act too quickly.  We had a very nice day, but with a four year old at home there is no time to think about anything but said four year old (and the dog that could, potentially, pee on the floor at any moment).  We walked the dog in the woods then visited some friends, went to the library, and ran a couple of errands. That got us to about noon, at which point we went home and toodled around for a little while before I dumped her on the neighbors and headed for the hills.

Not only am I readjusting myself to full time motherhood with the children actually at home, but I also don’t have the cushiness of after school clubs to fall back on until next week.  So both girls were home and bouncing off the walls by 3:30 this afternoon.  For a while, I just ignored them, focused on defeating the mountain of laundry that seems to be procreating in the hampers around this house, but eventually I lost my proverbial shit and the bouncing off the walls ground to a halt.  

Dinner was scrambled eggs. Now that Jim is back at work, all fine dining has gone out the window.  The dog, after managing to eat half of one child’s eggs, peed on the floor.  I chased her out the back door while holding a basket of dirty laundry.  As I spooned my eggs onto my own plate, the doorbell rang and on my way back in from collecting the package, my downstairs neighbor decided to be friendly and I was caught talking for ten minutes.  The cat ate the other child’s dinner.  My eggs were cold.  

I’ve become really apathetic about baths so, in the interest in getting to bedtime, we just skipped that part of the evening.  I pinned the girls down and scrubbed off the blue eye shadow that they had applied while I wasn’t looking, all the while admonishing them through gritted teeth (‘Don't complain! This is what happens when you put makeup on during the SCHOOL WEEK!’  etc.) I brushed their teeth and settled them down on the couch for phonics and reading.

Halfway into the phonics the first one needed the toilet.  ‘I have diarrhea!!!’ she announced from across the house.  ‘I saw some carrots come out!  Or maybe it was crust.’ Then, ‘I need a wipe!!!!’  

As soon as that one was wiped and ready to go, the other one called from upstairs, ‘I have diarrhea too!!!!  I need a WIPE MAMA!!! I NEED A WIPE!!!!’

Sometimes you just have to admit defeat.  Plus, I’ve been reading stupid inspirational things again and one of them suggested that to have a happy and healthy home, I should address messes as I see them, rather than letting things build up.  Obviously the person who wrote that suggestion doesn’t live with my family.  Or maybe she lives in the States in a huge house and has a full time maid so she can zen out and do yoga in her spotless house that has lots of storage space and no clutter.

And so, with the girls tucked into their beds and quietly talking to each other upstairs and the plan to ‘address messes as I see them’ resonating in the back of my brain, I stare at the piles of laundry that I don’t feel like dealing with, the dishes that never end and the clutter strewn about my living room…and all I can say is ‘fuck it.’ I'm off to read my book and eat some ice cream. Tomorrow is another day.