Getting Started

I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm starting a blog. Something I've wanted to do for awhile, but have never gotten around to until now.

So here is my first "Memoir of a Mother."

Today I am reminded of how hectic motherhood can be.

I wake up later than usual, which means my daughter will wake up before I even have a chance to make coffee, and I will have no time to myself. I try to think of a way to capture some time to myself anyway, and decide to give her a breakfast bar and her usual sippy cup of milk, then put on her favorite morning video. Maybe I'll even get a chance to check some emails. I go start the coffee and try to start breakfast. She only eats about half of the breakfast bar in no time flat, throws it down, then begins whining for me again. "Huuuuugs yooooou," she cries. My heart melts and I pick her up to hold her. She clings tightly to me, and I go through an hour long battle of trying to distract her so I can make breakfast, but to no avail. Finally, she decides she wants to play, so I get that cup of coffee and make breakfast. Just as I am sitting down in front of the computer to eat and check some emails, she walks over and begins the plea again, so I put her in my lap while trying to hold my plate in one hand. She sees the waffles on my plate and exclaims with a giggle of delight, "Waaw-ful!" So of course, I share about half my waffle with her until she finally decides she's done and gets down to go off to play again.

Later, when I'm leaving the house to run some errands and take her to the park, I feel like I need a third hand as I put the diaper bag over one shoulder and my purse over the other, then grab the two trash bags that need to go outside, and with the other hand take her hand to lead her out the door. As we go down the back steps, cats are draped over them blocking the way, and she politely tells them, "Pees moof!" (Please move.) As we step off the bottom step and I release her to go chase the cats, I suddenly realize that I forgot my keys, so I go chasing after her, trash bags banging together and the diaper bag about to drop off my shoulder. I drop the trash bags onto the ground and guide her close to the back door, then run up the steps and back inside to get the keys off the hook by the door. I come back out and lock the door, and by the time I get to the bottom of the steps again she has already taken off running. I grab the trash bags and call after her, but she ignores me and keeps running further and further away, playing with the cats in the yard.

I unlock the mini-van, throw the diaper bag and my purse on the passenger seat, start to throw the trash bags in there, too, but stop myself before I do, mumbling something to myself about what the heck I am doing. I take the trash bags to one of the trash cans a few feet away, then go to collect my daughter. I lecture her about ignoring me (a work in progress, of course), pick her up, and carry her towards the van. As we pass by the cats' water dish, she leans over so far that she almost falls out of my arms, crying, "Waw waw!" (She wants to make sure the cats have water.) "Don't worry, sweety, they've got enough water for now," I tell her, and then put her in the van and strap her into her car seat. I am surprised by how easy it is this time. Normally she's bending halfway over one side of her seat or the other, begging and whining for one of her books or some other "thing" she wants and won't stop bending over until she gets it. This time she sits still and allows me to buckle her in, then I ask her if she wants her "One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish" book, to which she responds with a giggle of delight, "Wun Feesh!"

Finally, we leave to go to the park and to run our errands. Whew! All that and it isn't even Noon yet.