but it’s my poo!

I remember sitting up immediately when I heard it; “My poo! Not your poo!” Then I heard the next part; “No it’s MY poo!” Cue me practically falling over my own feet (again) in my rush to get downstairs, in the hopes that I wasn’t going to find a bedroom covered in that first morning poo, times two.

I was very relieved to discover that there was in fact no poo, from either Alex or Maddie. But hearing them argue as to whose poo it actually was, had me run the fastest I have ever run in my 31 years. Please understand that I have experienced poo in the cupboard, poo in the lounge, poo on the dog (don’t ask), poo in my bed and poo in the kitchen. We also won’t talk about my car or the bath.

Yes. This is a post about poo. Baby poo.

And I’m so relieved that it is this short.

G

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petrol fumes and my guardian angel

Yesterday morning, something pretty amazing happened to me. In true me style, I pulled into my closest petrol station with 5km left in my tank. My salary cleared late, and I made it home on Tuesday night with 20km left in my tank.

I was running a little late yesterday; I had gotten up later than usual, and that just had a total snowball effect on the rest of my morning. This included leaving the twins’ bag at home, as well as my gym bag. I however did not know that I had left these 2 bags at home, until I got to the petrol station and asked for R200 worth of fuel. I had gone to gym on Monday night, and had placed my purse in my gym bag, because that’s where I keep my gym card. I was going to gym last night, and so had packed my bag yesterday morning (it still had my purse in it) but then forgot to put it into my car.

Right. So now what? I would have probably been able to drop off the twins and Morgan-Lee but then I know I’d be stuck. As I’m a regular at the petrol station, the manager was contemplating giving me a R100 advance, as I promised him that I’d come in and pay it last night, and I went to tun my ignition on to show him that I only had 5km left in my tank.

I turned the key, and it showed 79km left. Guys, I swear to you, I had 5km of petrol left in my tank when I pulled into the petrol station. What I think happened, is that in my mild state of panic in realising that I didn’t have my purse, I couldn’t put any petrol in my car and not being able to get hold of the husband, a good Samaritan quickly and quietly paid for R100 worth of fuel for me, as my petrol cap was open from when I first arrived. I was so distracted by trying to phone Lee, pacing next to my car and talking to the manager, that I was not paying attention to anything that may or may not have happened by my fuel tank. But I know that someone did something amazing for me; they saw a frazzled mom with 3 kids in the car, that it was after 7am, and that I had left my purse at home, something that I think most of us have done. And so they helped me get my kids to school, and myself to work.

So, to my guardian angel, the good Samaritan that helped me at the Total Botha’s Hill yesterday morning; I don’t know who you are, but I will be paying it forward.

Thank-you.

G x

so about last night

There is something very daunting about having to “pop” into the shops after work with the twins in tow. VERY daunting. So daunting in fact, that I really do try my very best not to do so, because it ends up being chaos. Pure and simple chaos.

Last night was no exception.

Madness with a capital M

When I head into the shops, even if just for bread and milk, I always get a trolley for Alex and Maddie. Where the shopping is supposed to go is anyone’s guess, but I know that they are at least contained, and cannot get up to any mischief. Apart from climbing (read falling) out of the trolley, I’m able to get in and out of the shop without causing too much damage to my surroundings. I inevitably end up getting a small sweet or something to distract them from everything else that they can destroy, hoping that it will keep them distracted until we get back to the car.

Last night for some stupid reason, I did not get a trolley. *insert deathly ill/shocked face here* We rushed into Dischem because they were about to close, and I needed to have my script filled. Thank GOODNESS we were 3 of about 10 customers in the whole shop, and that there were A LOT of staff still on duty.

Trouble with a capital T

It took me about 20 minutes to get my medication from the pharmacist, and in that time, Alex had run off and made friends with another Alex, Maddie CLIMBED ONTO A SHELF and proceeded to dress herself in all of the hair accessories, Alex had thrown his bouncing ball all over the shop, including underneath the over-the-counter-medication counter and underneath all of the shelves and down about 4 different aisles. Maddie then proceeded to launch herself off of the bench by the prescription medication waiting area, almost into the arms of a gym-going beefcake, who almost wet himself with fright, landing on her bum, laughing, and then doing it all over again. I don’t know how many times I apologised to the staff and remaining customers, but I think due to the time of day, no one really cared and were all pretty understanding that I too was exhausted, and just 1 mom trying to reign in 2 toddlers. The staff were cracking up with laughter at the antics of my 2, and everyone knows Alex’s name… When I had finally managed to pay for my medication, Maddie then proceeded to help herself to a handful of sweetie packets, which I of course only saw just before stepping out of the shop. Thank goodness for understanding security guards and about 4 cashiers who could see that I was about to actually just sit down on the floor and have my own tantrum!

Needless to say, when we walked into Checkers, the very first thing I did was wrangle 2 pumped up toddlers into a trolley. The very next thing I did was question my existence, for my failing to remember just what an exercise it was getting bread and milk with 2 mini-monsters.

And I sincerely hope that Dischem Hillcrest NEVER views their security footage from last night, as I somehow doubt that I would be welcome again in their store if they did!

G

Maddie & Alex (when they’re not being mini-monsters)

via Daily Prompt: Notorious

getting bread and milk with the kids vs getting bread and milk without the kids

With Kids

1. Pack a baby bag. Forget that your wet wipes are finished, and only pack 1 nappy each. Should be enough. Forget the juice bottles and snacks, because irritable children are such delights in the car.
2. Wrestle 2 toddlers into their car seats, all whilst yelling for your eldest to unglue her face from the tv and get into the car.
3. Once everyone is buckled in, drive off. Stop 20m down the road to turn around and fetch your purse on the kitchen counter.
4. Get to the shopping centre, where the “mom & tots” parking is taken up by non-moms & tots. Eventually find a parking 14km away from the mall entrance.
5. Realising that you’ve also forgotten the pram/stroller, you grab the closest trolley and load all 3 kids in. The eldest inevitably jumps out in the middle of the parking lot to “beat you inside”. The other two are now pulling each other’s hair. Great.
6. Walk into the shop, and instantly start cursing yourself for going out with all 3 kids, all whilst 4 little hands are grabbing every breakable in sight. The other 2 medium sized hands are sizing up the toy aisle. You just walk past.
7. Finally make it to the bread section, after having made a detour down the snack aisle, as 2 shrieking babies does not a fun shopping trip make. Ensure security isn’t watching you as you rip open the packet of chips, and basically throw it at said babies. Grab a loaf of bread.
8. Remove said bread loaf from the trolley, after babies decide that it’s just so interesting, and that they must stand on it. And poke it. And throw it on the floor. Remember that you have a 3rd child still in the toy aisle.
9. Shimmy on over to the toy aisle. Grab eldest child’s hand and drag her away, all whilst trying not to trip over her bottom lip that has suddenly grown 3ft and is now dragging on the floor.
10. Make a u-turn into the dairy aisle, and grab 2 bottles of milk. Place said milk into the trolley with the babies. Very quickly remove said milk bottles. Hand loaf of bread to the eldest child who acts like it’s 50kg and is under immense torture. Hook a bottle of milk onto each pinky finger, and push the trolley to the checkout.
11. Wait until the cashier is clear before offloading your 3 items onto her till, as 3 pairs of hands are now grabbing sweets and chocolates and magazines and all of the other wonderful things lined up at the till section. Again, curse yourself for going out with all 3 kids.
12. Pay for your 3¬†4 (forgot the chips didn’t I) items, and take off like an F1 car from the till, as the chips are now finished and the babies now want EVERYTHING. This is when you realise that your wet wipes are finished, as the babies managed to get more chips in their hair and between their fingers than in their mouths.
13. Make it back to the car that is 14km away, giving a silent air punch that you survived. Offload the 1 shopping bag into the car, and wrestle the 2 babies into their car seats.
14. Remember that you have another child that is not in the car, and bundle her in quickly, side-eyeing everyone just to make sure that they didn’t see her ambling around the car, alone. Realise that there is a smell wafting from 2 little bottoms, but knowing that you have no wet wipes, you block out the smell and turn a blind eye.
15. Drive home, trying to ignore the whining babies who want the juice that you forgot at home, and the drop lip of the eldest who didn’t get the toy that she wanted. Promise that you’re never EVER going shopping with all 3 kids (alone) ever again.

Without Kids

1. Park in the first available parking, grab your purse, walk into the shop, walk to the bread aisle, grab a loaf, walk to the dairy aisle, grab 2 bottles of milk, walk to the till, pay and go home.

Yep. Pretty much covers it.

G

in limbo, i think

Due to our living arrangements when Morgan-Lee was born, she only got her own room just before her 2nd birthday, as that’s when the husband and I got our own place. We’re still in our home that we moved into in 2011, but space has been an issue, especially with 2 more babies.

Our home is a 1.5 story; basically the 2nd floor is only half of the 1st floor, if that makes sense. So the husband has always used the upstairs as his office, and we’ve had the 2 bedrooms downstairs. Then with the impending arrival of the twins, we decided to all move upstairs, as it was big enough for all of us. For the first 8 month of the twins’ lives, the husband slept downstairs on the spare bed, whilst I was upstairs with all 3 kids. Yay. Awesome. So much fun. We eventually moved our main bedroom back downstairs, put Morgan-Lee back into her old room, and the twins bunked with us in our room. The issue with that is that not only do I wake up to every single tiny noise or movement that they make, but they were also so restless, especially when I came through to bed. I swear they could sense me or smell me or something, because when it was my time to sleep, it was wake up and niggle time for them.

So last week Friday, the husband and our nanny rearranged our rooms. Morgan-Lee got moved into our room, the twins into her room, and we moved upstairs. Holy cow guys, I can’t even explain it to you. Not only have the twins started sleeping through, but I actually got a solid night’s sleep on Saturday night. I think that was mostly because I was so buggered from working 3 jobs in 24 hours but still; I felt awesome on Monday. The problem is this though; I am still waking up, several times during the night. It’s like my body has become so used to waking up 1-5 times a night, that now it does it automatically! The twins went down at about 19h00 last night, and woke just before 06h00 this morning, with 1 or 2 niggles throughout the night, that I didn’t go rushing to sort out. But me? I went to bed just before 21h00 and fell asleep. I then lay awake just before midnight, fell asleep again at who knows what time, got up at 03h00, lay down again, got up at 04h45 and put the geyser on (what else was I going to do) and then lay in bed until 05h30 when my alarm went off. Like seriously?!

Then, in tucking Morgan-Lee into bed last night, she asked me to lie with her, which I did. I then rearranged the shade on her lamp, as the light was in my eyes, and she said to me “It’s ok to turn it off mommy. I sleep with it off most nights now anyway.” I’m sorry what? I’m 30 years old and I still have a night light of sorts. Where did my baby girl go? So I turned the light off and held her a little tighter than normal, and she fell asleep in my arms. I got up, tucked her in, checked on the twins (who were both snoring) and went upstairs to bed.

My babies are growing up. All 3 of them. In the last 2 months or so, Morgan-Lee has just lost some of her childish innocence; she’s becoming a young lady. At 6 (almost 7) years old! Her mannerisms, her statements, her jokes are all becoming so grown up, and I’m so torn. On the one hand I’m so proud of her, her work ethic at school, how she interacts with her brother and sister, and how she just has this immature maturity about her. But on the other hand my baby girl is vanishing before my eyes. Every day I see her just that much more grown up. She shies away from getting undressed in front of us now, she wants to wash herself in the bath, all perfectly normal things as she grows up, but things that I did when she was so tiny and fragile, she doesn’t need me for anymore. Alex and Maddie now lie themselves down at bedtime when they see their bottles; they don’t need me to do it for them. They sit down when they see their breakfast, lunch and supper bowls. I see them quietly playing, thinking, inspecting, analysing. My babies are growing up!

I can’t stop them from growing up, I know that. And I honestly would never want to. I think what I’m most scared of is simply not being needed anymore. I want to raise independent children, who are unafraid to experience new things, to tackle their challenges in life head-on, to grasp life by the horns, and to give it horns! But when they no longer need me? What then is my purpose?

Wait.

I guess I would have fulfilled my purpose.

They grew up. They’re independent. They’re ok.

I did good.

G

PS: I’m seeing my shrink again in 2 week’s time. I’ll be asking for the sleeping pills that she wanted to give me 5 month’s ago! I need sleep!!!