I’ve cried a lot today–not exactly sure why…
Today, Will turns 31.
Today, my girls are both sick with chest colds, complete with a nasty cough and a fever.
Oh, and today is “The Royal Wedding.”
The day started off emotionally when I was quickened at 6 a.m. by my poor, pitiful Abby whining and sniffling. It was good to go ahead and get up to get started on Daddy’s birthday breakfast (a tradition I am determined to uphold). The menu: bacon, eggs, blueberry pancakes, fresh strawberries, and homemade yogurt. Why did I think I should make pancakes this morning, when the kids are both sick? (Tradition.)
Cooking breakfast, 7 a.m.
I start the bacon in the frying pan, and it’s as if the mere sizzle sends Abby into a holy fit. She’s screaming “ma-ma. ma-ma” and listlessly throwing open cabinets throughout the kitchen, taking pauses only to push on my legs and get between me and the splattering grease.
Enter Sophia. She’s standing on the stairs, confused aand sweaty from a fitful sleep.
“Good morning, honey. Go potty,” I say. Oh, good she’s gone. Not one minute later. “WAH!” Sophia’s crying. (Remember, Abby hasn’t stopped whining and crying and banging on cabinets.)
“Sophia, honey, what’s wrong?” I run upstairs.
Sophia’s sitting on the potty. “My back hurts.”
I’m confused. “Are you done? Wipe. Let’s get down.” I notice that her panties and pajamas are moist from an apparent nighttime accident. (Future note: might be a good idea to give a pull-up to a sick toddler at nighttime during drug-enhanced sleep.) My acknowledgement of her wet panties sends her into full-on shame crying.
Enter: Abby, crying for lack of attention.
Enter: birthday boy, fresh out the shower.
I literally bite his head off and end his life on his first day of his 31st year in this world…
Tears, #1 .
Meanwhile, bacon is burning…. smoking… charring….
8:00 a.m. We have a very nice breakfast. Girls get it together. Mommy apologizes for losing it. Bacon is surprisingly edible. Daddy reattaches his head and opens some fun presents and we get on with the morning.
9 a.m. Cry #2.
I notice on Facebook all the people commenting on “The Wedding.” I decide to look up CNN on my phone and watch the video. I have no idea why the sweet, Catholic wedding sends me into the sappiest, throat aching cry, but it does.
I contemplate my situation. I realize that I have missed every single bit of the hype. I knew it was happening today, cool that it was on my husband’s birthday… cool that there’s going to be a wedding… But, we don’t have cable, so I missed the 5 days of wedding countdown on the Today Show. I missed the commercials, the wedding party dress speculation, the… I don’t know what all cause I missed it. I wasn’t sad that I missed it until I watched the wedding footage and felt… I don’t know… American–completely disconnected from all things “royal” and British. And, without cable. There’s nothing to apologize for. It just made me sad that I didn’t get in on the hype, I didn’t get up at 4 a.m. to watch it, and I don’t get to claim them as my country’s royal family. The wedding was nice, and the kiss was sweet. The 2nd kiss even sweeter. I’m glad I got to watch it, and read a funny NPR story on it… but it made me cry. Weird.
Welling up, yet again. Cry #3. 11:30 a.m.
I decided to take a bath–wash off my over sensitivity and soak in a hot, relaxing tub. I put the girls in front of Sesame Street and expect to have 20 minutes to myself. Apparently, the sound of running water to Abby is like rustling paper in a dog’s favorite biscuit box because she was up two flights of stairs before I even got my hair wet. She kept handing me all the elements that I needed for my bath, showing me with her body what I needed to do with them. Then, she’d miss the side of the tub, and they’d fall on her feet and send her screaming.
“Abby. Go downstairs with Sophia and watch Sesame Street. You know? Elmo?” I did my best to coax her back downstairs, but it all failed. She continued picking up oversized Sam’s Club bottles of shampoo and body wash and dropping them on her feet. More screaming and wailing. I sink down in the tub, trying to drown out the cries.
Enter: Sophia. She runs into her “princess bathroom.” (Yes, that’s where I’m taking a bath. It’s our only tub.)
Sophia has the most pained look on her face. Her knees are pressed toward each other, and she’s calling out in broken syllables. ”Ah. I. Ah. I. Ca-.” I remember the 4 glasses of juice and milk she’s had this morning. I look over at her “princess potty.” Her potty seat is in the floor between the toilet and the wall, her stool is two feet away. She’ll never make it. Not with that look on her face.
She fumbles with the seat. I coax her nicely but firmly. She gets the stool.
I raise my voice, “Hurry. You can do it….”
My voice gets louder as she stands on the stool and doesn’t sit down. “Pull down your PANTIES!!!! SIT DOWN!!!!”
Pee runs down her leg. She screams out as the pain of holding it in is replaced by the shame of having wet herself. I sink back down into the tub, close my eyes and hold my breath as the girls are both sent into another fit of cries.
“Sweetie. It’s okay. It was an accident. You tried to make it, and it’s o-kay. Mommy is NOT mad.”
I pull her in the tub with me. And, I try not to cry.
It’s 2:30 now. They’re both asleep. Probably. I hear some coughing.
I might cry again today…. We’ll see.
We cancelled our babysitter tonight. Will thought it might be best not to venture out on an evening bike ride date when the kids have temperatures of over 100…
Parents first. I wouldn’t change a thing. It gives me joy to parent them everyday. Even days like this.
Happy Birthday, Honey. I love you.