In case you haven’t noticed, The Sarcastic Journalist gave birth to a scrumptious little boy this week. I want to bury my nose in his little neck folds and breeeeeeathe for a while. Stop looking at me like that. Go tell her congratulations and pretend I don’t have a weird baby fetish.
My own children, well, they won’t do at all. They are big(ish) and no longer all that cute and they often SMELL and also they know how to irritate the living crap out of me. I’ve decided it’s time to institute some changes around here, for sanity’s sake.
Monkey needs to spend some time in a room with nothing but a floor and four walls. No furniture, no objects. Certainly no objects belonging to ME. The child walks across the backs of the couches, swings from my desk chair, kicks the side of the desk as he shimmies up the nearby toy box, and starts clomping across the room in my brand new running shoes. I envision a special space for him where he can roam free without my barking “Get down! Get off! Leave those ALONE!”
Chickadee, on the other hand, needs a room with her dolls, assorted accessories, books, a cozy spot to curl up and read, and NO FLOOR. I’m aware that this is impossible. Just let me dream. The child is incapable of putting anything back where she found it. Onto the floor it goes. The bookcase looks like it threw up. Doll clothes are strewn about, intermingling with her own clothes (which never reach the hamper). Left to her own devices, she leaves a trail like Gretel. At least I always know where to find her.
I’ve also decided to stop packing lunches for my children. It’s a huge waste of time, and then they have to tote them back and forth. Nope, from now on I’m just going to get up in the morning, pull some food out of the fridge, sit on it a couple of times, and then throw it directly into the trash. Then I’ll just pack a juice box for Monkey and give Chickadee permission to bum food off of all her friends (which is, apparently, what she does anyway, as all her friends have cooler moms who pack better food).
Monkey is done with nighttime pull-ups (the kid is 6 now, for crying out loud) but still wets the bed if I forget to take him to the bathroom before I go to sleep. Or if he’s sick. Or if he drinks too much with dinner. Or if Mercury is in retrograde. Let’s just say he’s doing well, but I am changing sheets a lot more often than I’d like. And it’s not so much the sheet changing as the massive amounts of laundry that are driving me insane. So from now on, I’m putting saran wrap over the sheets and putting all of his blankets in those new giant ziploc bags (bargain duvet cover!). I think it’ll make those middle of the night accidents a little easier to deal with.
From now on I plan only to buy snowpants that are brown. Or at least brown in the seat and on the knees. And if I can get them already damp and moldy, so much the better. Also I will buy only single mittens and gloves, or perhaps an assortment pack of half a dozen left gloves, or whatever. I will preemptively load each backpack with a couple of pounds of pencil stubs, paper scraps, happy meal toys and found items… just to save the children some time and give me plenty of places to hide the gloves.
Hey, the alternative to all of this is to get rid of the kids and enjoy peace and order. What fun would that be??