Just Another Manic Morning

Mornings are not my strong suit. I’m not my best self during the hours of 7 and 9AM and I’m an even worse version of myself if I’m up earlier than that. I’m hopeful that once all the kids are miraculously sleeping through the night that I’ll somehow transform into a Mary Poppins type morning person, and have the energy to whip up waffles and French braid all the hair…but until that time, mornings and I are not friends.

I find our family tends to have about 1 or 2 DECENT mornings a week.  These are days when I don’t have to ask the kids 600 times to brush their teeth, or to put on their socks, or get off their sibling. That leaves on average 3 or 4 HORRIBLE mornings a week (weekends don’t count because we don’t have to be anywhere, and can stay in our jammies all day if we so choose). Some are more horrendous than others, while some are just crossing the line.

This morning was one of those mornings when I was SUPER thankful that our neighbour is 80 something years old and 99% deaf. It gives me much relief to know that she can’t hear the yelling. I don’t like to yell. I try not to yell. I make a real effort to NOT yell….but on mornings like today there was LOTS of yelling.

I’m not sure if it was because I was up 27 times lastnight with a sick kid, a full bladder, a brain that won’t shut off and a hungry baby….or if I can blame it on PMS (yes, that’s right…I’m only 3 months PP and have already been blessed with that gift again). It’s probably neither. It’s most likely because my children are wild animals. Most of the time they are lovely little creatures, who are fairly good at following rules and meeting my expectations…but in the morning they quite frankly suck.

We have the exact same routine every single morning. They know what needs to be done. This is why on mornings like this morning it BAFFLES me that they are shocked and appalled that I would expect them to brush their teeth. And how dare I expect them to put on hats and coats before heading outside. I mean, it was only -11 out there. I’m completely unreasonable.

I always start by gently reminding them of what they need to do…but eventually my scary voice comes out, and nobody is happy. My heartrate sky rockets to dangerously high, and it feels like flames are escaping my mouth, and smoke is billowing out of my ears. I try to practice deep breathing to calm myself down…but when I look at my fitbit reading later in the day I can see that my heart rate was in “peak” functioning level during the hour it takes me to get them all in the van and to their respective locations. Infact, it’s higher for longer during that hour than it was during my actual workout. That’s beyond ridiculous…but I suppose I should look on the bright side:  I’m burning extra calories during that time!!

I know I’m not alone in this. It has been a topic of conversation many a times in my favourite mom group. The struggle is real…mornings suck for most of us. But that doesn’t make me feel any better!! I hate that I yell. I hate that I’m starting their day off on THAT foot. I hate that I have to perform the whole drive to school to try and cheer them up so they can actually start the school day in somewhat of a decent mood (“what’s that sweetheart, you want to listen to the Gummy Bear song AGAIN? OF course…let me put that back on for you”…BARF!!!)

I really want to do better. I want to be a calm and patient mom in the mornings. Do any of my lovely readers out there have any ideas that have worked for your family? Maybe it’s a calming technique you use on yourself, or perhaps it’s some sort of magic spell you’ve used on your own children. Either way, I’m welcome to any tips you may have!!

A Poop in the Hand is Worth Two in the Can

Sometimes I wonder if other families have as many weird things happen to them as we do. Not a day goes by in this house without a gross or unusual thing happening. In fact it’s probably more accurate to say that not an hour goes by without such an event. Today has been no different.

This morning I was having some quality time with Miss Maisie. We were having a great time dressing up the dolls and getting them ready for “the ball”, which basically entails struggling to get an outfit on the doll, and then just taking it off and putting something else on instead (over and over again for all of eternity).

I had a hard time reaching the t-shirt I wanted my girl to wear (it was a pretty fancy ball!), so I asked Maisie to pass it to me. As she went to grab the shirt, her eye caught something else..and her face lit up. I wondered what she had found. It could have been anything really because we were in Harleigh’s room, and her big sister tends to hide all the cool stuff up there.

She reached for the mysterious treasure, picked it up and brought it close to her face so she could get a better look. She tapped it on the dresser and we both heard the sound of the hard item as it knocked against the wood. She was baffled, so passed it to me while asking me, “What is this, mommy?”  It was in my hand before I had a chance to get a peek…and this is what I saw:

Perhaps you’re reading this from your mobile device, and the image is too small for you to be able to really tell what it is that you’re looking at. If so, let me be clear. That small nugget in the palm of my hand…is nothing other than a turd. A tiny, aged to hardened state little piece of poop. In my bare hand.

The thing is, I wasn’t even really all that surprised. Although I would have been much happier if it had been a missing earring, or a coin that Maisie had found and considered valuable…. it did not really shock me that there was fecal matter just sitting on the floor, nowhere near any bathroom in our house. Nor did it create any reaction in me. I simply said, “Oh, that’s poop!”, stood up, walked to the bathroom and dropped it into the can.

As the piece of crap made a tiny splash entering the toilet bowl, I thought to myself how different the me of today is from pre-kid Shannon. I’m trying to imagine the astonishment and disgust I would have felt if someone ever dropped a poop into my hand 6 years ago. I likely would have screamed and threw it away in one swift action, ran to the bathroom and scrubbed my hands, arms, and the rest of my body with boiling water and anti-bacterial soap, brushed my teeth, and thrown my clothes into the incinerator.

Now, after being a mom for 6 years, potty training two kids, and changing approximately 800 thousand diapers, the idea of holding poop in my hand is nothing unusual in the least. A common event in this house, really. What about you? Do you think if someone handed you a crunchy turd that had been sitting on the floor in your house (while not perfectly clean, not a complete disaster either) you would be surprised? Grossed out? Or would it just be another day in paradise?

Don’t Touch!!

This morning after I dropped the big kids off at their respective locations, I started thinking to myself about what proper blogging protocol entails. Specifically, how long do I wait before writing something else? I got myself a bit stressed out about it. What if nothing interesting happens for WEEKS?! What if I just have NOTHING TO SAY!?

Turns out I had nothing to worry about!

Sully and I had big plans to stop off at a store this morning before heading home. I had been putting it off for over a week, but I really needed to get myself some heavier weights (apparently I’m much stronger than I give myself credit for, but that’s a whole other post). I wanted to do it quickly, because if you’re unfamiliar with Sully, it’s important to know that he basically only ever sleeps if you’re holding him, or has been lulled to sleep by a ride in the car. So since I have started working out again, my goal is to get home as quickly as possible after dropping the kids off at school so that I can get the 20 minutes of uninterrupted workout time. That’s all I need right now. TWENTY MINUTES.

I digress.

Sully and I made it through the store in record time. He was still dozing away. I was thrilled, and excited to get home and actually use the weights. I felt myself getting fitter just imagining the scene.

We pulled our cart up to the cashier, and I went about my business paying…when BAM! The cashier reached over the counter and pulled the hat off his head!! AND THEN she tickled his cheek! He was immediately awoken from his slumber, and proceeded to make the grumpy face/furrowed brow thing we all do when someone wakes us up from a nap. I just looked at her with my jaw on the floor.

“Oh, you don’t want him sleeping here anyways! You want him to nap at home! He’s so cute. Just look at him” …I’m sorry, WHAT?! In what universe is it acceptable for some completely random stranger to not only TOUCH my newborn baby (I’m not even going to remind you that she is a CASHIER, so her hands are on dirty money all.day.long), but then tell ME, his MOTHER, when I should let him sleep.

I was furious. He of course cried the entire way home, and guess who didn’t get to do their workout as planned? This really isn’t the end of the world…but this whole strangers touching babies thing grinds my gears. I get that they are cute. Their adorable little cherub faces, their kissy lips, their soft skin…they all just scream “touch me”…but as a mother, I assure you that it’s not ok. DON’T TOUCH THE BABIES!!!

There are so many germs, so many illnesses going around right now. What if your filthy paws shared those germs with my wee babe and he got sick? It happens all the time. Babies don’t have immune systems yet. Winter babies have a rough enough go as it is, trying to dodge all of the plagues their siblings are constantly bringing home from school.  There are actually little tag things that you can buy now that you tie to your baby’s carseat that say “you can look, but don’t touch”…so obviously it happens enough to require such an invention.

And then there’s this: you could be waking him up from his nap! More importantly, in doing so, you could be depriving a mother of the only twenty minutes of solitude she would have all day.

The moral of this story is simple. If you do not know me, do NOT touch my baby.

 

First Blog Post – Welcome!

I’m writing a blog! I’m writing a blog and someone is reading it!

I have always wanted to do this, but never sat down and actually started. Today is the day!

Welcome to (Quasi) Organized Chaos. You can read more about who I am and what makes me tick in the “Who am I” section…but I’ll give you the Coles notes. I’m a mom to four kids six and under. I’m married to my person. I’m a teacher. I like stuff.

My plan for this blog is to share my experiences, and hope to make connections with my readers. Please comment (click on “leave a comment”) and share along with me! I’ll also be talking about stuff. Stuff I like, stuff I bake, stuff I buy, stuff that’s awesome and stuff that sucks. Basically, I’ll be giving my opinion. Feel free to give yours!

I have lots to say, and am blessed in many ways. I’m looking forward to sharing my world with you. Thank you for starting this journey with me.