Wednesday, March 12, 2014

The glamour of motherhood, a true story.



It's Friday night, Cody just got home from work and I'm sitting on the bedroom floor with a mason jar of wine. This is my first moment of alone time all day. I have spit up in my hair, on my shirt and spaghetti sauce from lunch under my finger nails. I barely found enough time to brush my teeth this morning, and by morning I mean 11am. I'm wearing my favorite yoga pants for the third day in a row and yet another one of my husbands oversized shirts.

All I want is to slip into a hot bath and soak the next few hours away, I imaging a world that lets me hide in here until the children are fast asleep and I can cozy up on the couch and watch the inappropriate tv shows that we have to save for when little eyes aren't around. But alas...I will have to settle for a quick shower, because there is a toddler to feed and a fussy baby to nurse.

I speed through, foregoing conditioner in an attempt to save time and opt for a glob of leave-in and a quick comb through. My mascara is hanging on to the undersides of my eyes for the second day in a row, but I do manage a couple swipes of deodorant under each arm. I look in the mirror, take a few deep breathes, a quick pep talk, a pat on the back and back to the battle field that is our living room.

Reagan is crying because she wants bread for dinner and not what has been prepared. Carter is in the swing on the brink of losing her shit and has spit up dribbling down her chin. Cody and I shoot each other the "is it bed time yet" look, or is it the "pass the vodka" look?? But we carry on. Mainly because that's our only option. These days go by so fast, and soon they will be a distant memory. And when the time does come to tuck in the covers and turn out the lights, I look at my girls and my heart is so full. I would choose this life 100 times over. After all, I will have plenty of time for that hot bath when the girls are grown.


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