This week I’ve been playing Mommy to an adorable 16mo little man.
It’s been a complete and total blast.
But, holy mother is it exhausting!
I really don’t know how parents do it.
Diaper changes in the middle of the night so Little Man isn’t covered in pee (and I don’t even want to know) in the morning. And saving yourself a load of laundry washing bedding and pj’s.
Early mornings because Little Man is ready to get up and you run on HIS schedule. Sleeping in?! What’s that?
Making breakfast one-handed. No judgement, Little Man. If I could get away with someone else carrying me around, I’d do it too!
With your non-dominant hand because Little Man wants to be held and Little Man isn’t quite so little when you’re not used to holding a toddler and your weakling other arm can’t cut it. Thankfully Little Man doesn’t mind the banana slices aren’t even CLOSE to the same size…they all go down/on the wall/on the floor/in the carpet/between couch cushions/in his or my hair the same.
Cleaning up breakfast while keeping and eye on Little Man. Please tell me eyes in the back of your head come with the How To Parent book the stork brings when they drop off your child!!!!!
Changing another diaper. And hoping to God Little Man doesn’t stick his hand down in Man Land…again before you have a chance to clean him up!
Getting dressed. Crotch snaps may just be the best invention ever…if the stupid things stayed snapped!
Keeping your smart phone and the tv clicker out of reach. He must be male if he has the clicker for 2 seconds and manages to find the adult channels…
Having a hard time remembering if you brushed your teeth. Which is highly unlikely.
Peeing with an audience. I thought once I moved and didn’t have to share a bathroom with 5 other people my days of peeing/showering with someone else in the bathroom were over. More lonely, but over. Yeah, not so much. Little
Shit Man is juuuuuuuuuust tall enough to reach the door handle.
Cleaning up the toilet paper Little Man ran up and down the hall with. Seriously, that door was TOTALLY closed. Wasn’t it…?
Loading up and going for a walk. Because Pretend Mommy needs to get her sweat on, she’s tired of looking at the same walls and seriously plotting ways to kill that damn purple dinosaur.
Changing another diaper. And trying not to vomit all over Little Man. Seriously, what the french toast did he eat?! Never serve that again!
Make lunch. For the childless/cooking challenged, finding something nutritious to eat that Little Man would actually eat, that I can actually make and doesn’t make for another Crap-a-palooza is pretty difficult. Feeding Little Man the same thing for all meals probably isn’t much fun for Little Man.
Play with Little Man some more because that giggle and those dimples are To. Die. For. And wonder when the crap Dora the Explorer hit puberty.
Thank the Lord Little Man is as easily entertained as I am. Hey, if flicking the door stop and listening to it make noise is entertaining, I’ll take it!
Deal with the post lunch/pre nap melt down. And hope to heaven he doesn’t fight the nap too much.
Change another diaper. Plot ways to get B to change a diaper. B decided he was going to be hands off a diaper time…for this pretend parenthood AND the real thing. Right, like I’m going to let that happen…
Rock a crying, squirming, snotty, drooling Little Man before nap time. And feel my heart melt when he snuggles in.
Put half asleep Little Man in the crib for a nap. Time how long the crying goes on before Little Man realized he really IS tired and falls asleep.
Flop on the couch. Behold the disaster area/ biohazard that is your house.
Clean up lunch, start a load of laundry, vacuum up the bits of cracker ground into the carpet. Pray the vacuum doesn’t wake Little Man and stare longingly at the bottle of wine in the fridge.
Thank my lucky stars B is home from work. Grab a shower and change out of my pajamas. Did I seriously go walking around the neighborhood with banana in my hair and peanut butter on my forehead.
Pray Little Man is still asleep when I get dressed and (finally???) brush my teeth. Because B doesn’t ‘do’ diapers.
Change Little Man’s diaper when he wakes up. I don’t ‘do’ diapers, my ass. We’re going to have a chat about this and get things straight when (fingers crossed) I’m pregnant. This shit isn’t going to fly when it’s a full-time, for real gig. Laugh at your own unintended pun.
Let B play Daddy while I make dinner. Again, stare longingly at the bottle of wine in the fridge.
More playing. Watch my husband play with Little Man and feel my heart break a little that a child isn’t something I can give B right now.
Bath time. Wooo! Two showers for me in ONE day! But, man, that Little Man laugh is worth the sore knees and soaked clothes.
Diaper, pjams, snack, rock-a-bye, bed. Read- hands in Man Land- at least he pooped in the tub and Man Land in clean. Almost a second bathtime. Lots of crying, squirming and gnashing of teeth until he falls asleep while rocking and looks just like a heaven-sent angel…until midnight when it’s time to change his diaper, again.
Fall in bed, exhausted and fall asleep. Forget “adult time”, that’s how Little Men happen! And that WOULD be the first time Little Man breaks out of bed and gets an eye full…
For all the sarcastic, snarky, alternative/in my head cursing it was totally worth every second of it. I seriously don’t know how you parents do it day in and day out. But I can’t wait to figure it out myself.