Stupormom

I have heard parents of older children talk about how challenging mornings are - getting everyone fed, dressed and out the door for school. I thought that I had a while before I would have to deal with that, since my kids are at home with our beloved Judy when I'm at the office. So in theory, they don't need to be dressed and fed before I'm out the door on the days I work outside the home. Yet, I usually feel like it's part of my motherhood job to feed my children each morning and get them dressed. I also feel like it's part of my motherhood job to prepare healthy meals for dinner and do laundry. I mean, I work at the office fewer hours than Jeff, and I actually love cooking, so our division of labor makes sense, right? Thus, I've been trying to do all that - meet my alter-ego Supermom! But several mornings lately, I realized I'm no Supermom. I'm Stupormom - barely able to respond to stimuli because I'm already spent by 8:30AM.

Take this morning. My parents are coming to town, and I wanted to have a nice meal ready for them. So I planned to make chili in the morning and have it hot and ready when I get home from the office to serve everyone. I also had baskets of laundry to do, and didn't want my parents to see our house in disarray and our kids with no clean clothes to wear. So, I figured I'd just do our morning "get fed, get dressed" routine while also doing these other few things. I showered and got the chili almost done before the girls even woke up, and was feeling like Supermom. I got them dressed pretty easily and we all sat down for breakfast.

Does it count as "getting my kid dressed" if this is the resulting ensemble?

I planned to cook some cornbread with Lydia and throw in a load of laundry after everyone was fed. There was one hour remaining until I had to leave for the office at that point - "This Supermom gig isn't that tough!" I thought to myself. Lydia finished her breakfast and was quietly reading a book, and Anna was still eating little bits of beets in her highchair (what baby doesn't love beets for breakfast?). I figured this was my moment to run up and get the laundry baskets, so I stirred the chili quickly and did just that. I jogged up and down the stairs and dropped the baskets in the kitchen - it felt like less than three minutes that I was gone. I looked up from the laundry baskets to find Anna covered in puke from head to toe, including lots of little chunks of beets, and holding a bottle of baby medicine. "Lydia, did you give her that??" I demanded. She confessed she did. Apparently Anna had gagged herself on the baby medicine bottle in my absence? Or choked on a beet? "At least she didn't choke to death while I wasn't watching," I thought to myself. I pondered what story I would tell the police if she had choked. I precariously tried to get Anna into the sink, while attempting to avoid getting my silk work sweater covered in green puke (before the beets, Anna was eating a spinach-based homemade baby purée that Stupormom's alter-ego Supermom had made). I got down to her diaper, saw it was covered in puke, too, and ripped it off. I discovered: poop! "LYDIA, I need HELP?!?!!!!" I begged my toddler for a baby wipe. She tottered aimlessly over to where the wipes are, and I decided I had to get one myself. I got to the wipes at the same time as Lydia, and she sweetly handed me one. We ran back upstairs to get Anna redressed, and I then dragged the kids back down to the kitchen to make the corn bread. I dumped my Trader Joe's mix into a bowl, and went to grab milk out of the refrigerator - no milk. I poured out 3/4 of a cup of half-n-half before deciding that would be too much saturated fat (gotta keep my family healthy!). I poured the half-n-half it back into its container and scribbled "MILK" on a running grocery list I have of ingredients that I am out of and need before the weekend, when I "have to" (in my mind) cook a feast for Lydia's third birthday party, including two homemade batches of "Toy Story" inspired cupcakes. By the time I was on my way to work 20 minutes later, I had spoken with various loved ones (my mom, Judy and Jeff) to talk with them about various things I'd forgotten to do for or tell each of them. I realized I also had forgotten my parking pass, and called in to the front desk at work to see if we had a guest pass that I could use. 

As I turned my office lights on and attempted to text my mom a grocery list, a coworker kindly asked me how I'm doing. I felt speechless. Stupormom.