Dear Sydney, Ivy and Isadora,
I will start by saying I love you all so very much, more than I ever could possibly have imagined I would before I had kids. That being said, on some weekday mornings, you are all so dreadfully awfully horribly terribly appalling, I just want to leave you with the TV, drive (in my PJ's) to the nearest Starbucks, and curl into a ball in one of their comfy chairs. I will rest there, like a homeless person, until an employee asks me to leave, but I will offer to buy the whole store Petite Vanilla Bean Scones and Pumpkin Spice Lattes, and I will be forgiven by the employees, and customers will come and thank me, and give me the positive validation and praise I SO DESIRE. As I sit in my comfy chair in my Starbucks, surrounded by people who are mystified but grateful for me, I will imagine what your lives will be like in the very, VERY distant future...
... Maybe you each will also have three daughters (it could totally happen-- it is a trend in our family). On one Friday morning, you will be woken by your two-year-old at 5:52 am, and forced out to the pitch-dark living room to nurse her. You will hope she falls back asleep, but alas, she will not. Instead, she will continue to ask to nurse until you simply cannot take it anymore and leave her, screaming on the couch, to make your first giant latte of the morning. As soon as she calms down, your middle child will walk into the living room and try to sit down, only to be yelled at by the two-year-old because she is sitting in "her spot." The middle child will begin to cry, too, because it is Friday and she is still adjusting to all-day school so she is tired and sensitive, and that will wake the oldest child. Then, you will have all three crabby, hungry girls awake, and they will want breakfast. But they won't want cereal. Or toast. Or waffles. Or fruit. Or yogurt. So you will give them pop-tarts because it is Friday, so why not. You will realize the dog is still in his crate, so you will let him outside to pee. Then, you will drink your latte (made with espresso left over from yesterday because you are incapable of wasting anything), and enjoy the quiet.
Approximately 72 seconds later, the two-year-old will begin crying again and begging to nurse. You will give in, because maybe she will fall asleep this time so you can do the rest of your jobs. Instead, she stays awake. And when she stops nursing, and the big girls are done with their food, they all will start fighting over who gets to choose what to watch on TV. You will remind them that it is time to get dressed so the TV must go off, and ask them what they want in their lunch. They don't want sandwiches. Or soup. Or cheese and crackers. Or noodles. Or hot dogs. So you make them something (anything that will fit in their lunch box, has SOME nutritional value, and they might, maybe, possibly eat), and put a love note on a napkin because you feel guilty you are not giving them what they really want (yakisoba and mac and cheese). As the kids go down the hall to presumably get dressed, you remember that the dog is still outside and has not eaten, so you will bring him in and feed him.
When you find your three children, they will be in their rooms, but none will be even CLOSE to dressed. The oldest will be standing in front of her PACKED closet and complain that she has nothing to wear, then tell you that you are mean because you will not take her to the mall TODAY to buy her the shirt that she "really, really wants." You will try to ignore her ingratitude, and sneak into your room for 37 seconds to put your workout clothes on because your goal was to workout three days per week and so far you have been lucky to get one day. You will then move next door, where you will find the middle child playing with her dolls and the two-year-old terrorizing her sister. You will try to distract the two-year-old by offering to dress her in her favorite-- wait, is that the dog eating the baby's favorite toy?-- dress, but it will backfire as she screams about not wanting to get dressed. This will ultimately end in a 10 minute wrestling match to change the diaper and clothes of a rabid toddler who is trying to bite you, while your middle child cries because the screaming hurts her ears.
You finally bring the gasping, red-faced baby back to the couch to nurse AGAIN, and find the dog (that your kids BEGGED for) eating the Halloween decorations (that your kids HAD to put up in September), so you put him back outside, where he promptly begins barking at the wind. Or eating your Japanese Maple. But it is now 8:20 and you have to leave in ten minutes so you pretend not to notice what the dog is doing. Now that the baby is finally quiet (because she is nursing AGAIN and STILL NOT FALLING ASLEEP), you call down the hall to find out the status of the older girls. The oldest is dressed, she says, and going to the bathroom. The middle child says she is dressed, too, and has already gone to the bathroom. You relax for one minute, realizing that it was silly for you to put on your workout clothes, because there is no way you can bring this baby to the childcare in her current state, when your middle child walks down the hall, STILL IN HER PAJAMAS, to show you the bracelets she found. You somehow keep your cool, ask her to find some clothes to match her beautiful bracelets, and remind her that you only have five minutes to get ready. Then, your oldest will call you to help her do her hair, so you will leave the youngest screaming on the couch yet again.
When you arrive in the bathroom, you will see that your oldest is, indeed, dressed, and EATING THE SOUR CANDY that she got at piano lessons last night. You will ask her to brush her teeth and save the rest of the candy for later, but she will inform you that she does not have TIME to brush because she has not actually gone to the bathroom yet. You are tempted to tell her she has to hold it because who taught her it was okay to eat candy at 8:27 in the morning and brushing her teeth may not seem more important but it IS!! But you cannot do it. You let her pee and say a silent prayer to the Dental Gods.
Back in the living room, the middle child is actually dressed in something weather-appropriate (your ONLY standard for your children's clothing), and you call to everyone to grab their lunches and go. The baby must be carried down stairs, still screaming, as you assure her that you will nurse her on the couch again as soon as you return. You glance longingly at the bathroom as you pass by on the way to the garage, as you feel your bladder swelling from the giant latte (only the first of the day), but you press on to the minivan, because your kids CANNOT miss the bus. You marvel to yourself as you hold the writhing two-year-old down in her car seat so you can buckle her that you, once again, got all three girls out the door with something in their stomachs, something for lunch, and clean underwear on their bottoms. At least, you are pretty sure about the clean underwear thing.
DEEP. BREATH.
On one of these mornings, dear daughters, you will call me for support, or advice, or encouragement, and first, I will LAUGH. IN. YOUR. FACE. When I have stopped laughing, I will call you back, because you will most certainly have hung-up on me. Then, I will remind you that this, too, shall pass. That although certain times might be crazed, the good times still outnumber the bad. I will encourage you to channel your frustration, stress, and anger to something constructive, like vigorous cleaning (which is, by the way, a great workout), or dancing to a happy song (close your curtains if it makes you feel more comfortable), or calling a friend (or even better, a sister) who also has young kids, so you can sympathize with each other and tell stories that makes the other one realize her kids aren't so bad after all. Or, by writing 1500 word essays/letters/blog posts.
Even at our worst times, I still feel lucky to have all of you in my life. If my days were not so challenging, I would not go to bed with the feeling of complete satisfaction and fulfillment that I often have. Anything in life worth having is worth working for, and I will never stop working for you.
Love forever and ever and always,
Mommy