Friday is FINALLY here. If you are a working woman with kids at home the week is a blur of meals (apparently kids need to eat every day), dirty dishes, piled up laundry, homework, empty cat food containers, and if you have diaper kids, perilously low containers of bum wipes. You work HARD every day to make sure everyone is clean, fed (not too much sugar) has had enough sleep, and is getting enough mental stimulation to make their brains grow strong. Don't forget to take care of you too! Friday means you can relax the reins just a little. Order a pizza, turn on SpongeBob and pour yourself a big glass of wine. Sit down next to that pile of laundry and breathe.
To understand the intense, intimate and strange life that is Parenting Small Children you have to experience it.
Last night, my son, a rowdy intense smiley two-year-old, decides not only is he not sleeping in his room he isn’t sleeping with a diaper anymore. As soon as his sweet cherub face drifts off into slumber-land he made like Houdini and ripped that extra-thick nighttime sleeper diaper off and kicked it into the nether regions of the bed sheets. At precisely 3:45 am he rolled over halfway aiming his tiny Sergeant-At-Arms toward my husband’s side of the bed. Next thing I hear my husband mumbling something about it raining. Then, “My god! It’s going off! Get a towel! A towel, Woman!” Half delirious from exhaustion I stumble across books, toys, broken boxes and anything else our son deems necessary to keep directly in the path from bed to en-suite. I grab a towel from the bathroom and throw it to the bed. My husband starts dabbing the mattress in an attempt to clean up – all the while the enemy appendage still actively firing! I yell-whisper, “My god, Man! Cover the gun! The gun!”
Our son, still adorably dozing away and completely unperturbed by this episode needed to be gingerly rolled into my husband’s arms. He rocked and whispered, sleep, sleep little one, as I change our entire bedding for the third time this week.
The next morning at a breakfast meeting, my eyes glazed over and smelling faintly of urine I’m asked if everything is ok. I'm fine, I say, fine. Dreams of Sauvignon Blanc and Friday dancing through my head.