My kids are friggin’ high maintenance. I’m just being honest. I love them more than anything, but damn they are needy. From the time my eyes open, until the time they close, I probably hear the word, “mom” over a hundred and fifty times. It’s like they are afraid that if I’m not looking directly at them at all times, they will have to seek counseling for abandonment issues. All this time we spend together is great and all, but it’s also exhausting.
My mother stayed with me last night. She knew we’ve had a lot going on lately with my kids being sick on and off and my husband was out of town, so she packed her little bag and came over to “help.” (Honestly, I think she wants to make sure I remember to lock my doors and not talk to strangers, you know…typical mom-type things).
I woke up at 6 a.m. knowing my kids had early dentist appointments and immediately heard, “Mom, if you fell from 8 feet on a pillow would you die or would the pillow save you?” DAMMIT! I was hoping to get some coffee before the little minions sensed that I was awake. Searching for my contacts, I looked up to see my 7 year-old standing there in his jammies. I remember just thinking, ALREADY??? IT’S STARTING ALREADY??? Mumbling a random answer, I made my way to the kitchen to start breakfast. He followed me. “Mom, do you think people who live in Florida go to Disney World like every single day?” More questions. Then I felt another minion was lurking behind me, “Mom, can I have some water?” It was my 3 year-old. NOOOO! I wasn’t ready for him yet. Needed coffee. Needed to pee. Haven’t peed. “Mom, did you send in my yearbook order form?” came a voice from behind me. It was my 9 year-old with his eyes halfway open. I’M NOT READY!!! FOR THE LOVE OF HARRISON FORD, I’M NOT READY!!
Suddenly, like a walking care package, my mother trotted into the kitchen. She was showered, bright eyed, bushy tailed and ready for work. WTF? She’s all ready to go and I look like an extra on the set of The Walking Dead. She told me to just go and get ready and she’d make sure the boys got breakfast and got dressed. I began to protest, but my bladder wasn’t having it. I thanked her and took off to my room. That’s when a choir of imaginary angels surrounded me and sang a beautiful hymn as I took my morning piss in peace.
I began to wash my face when suddenly, I heard a voice from downstairs. “Mommmmm!” SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! THEY’RE AFTER ME! Then it happened. I heard the words. The four words I have been needing to hear for so long. It was my mother’s voice.
“Give her a minute.”
Basically, my mother was telling my kids to back the hell off. They listened. I carried on my “get ready routine” with no interruptions. The whole time I felt this insanely weird sense of protection. The only way I can describe it is feeling like I was in prison, but had a protector who wasn’t going to let anybody mess with me. Only thankfully I didn’t have to do anything freaky to get this protection, because that would just not be okay on so many levels.
I desperately needed a minute.
I finished getting ready in a nice quiet bathroom. I had makeup on. I had my hair looking decent. I brushed my teeth, got dressed and went down to find all three boys completely ready with shoes on and all! And there stood my “prison protector” smirking, like…Bitch, you’re welcome.
So now that I returned to my children, I was in a great mood. I was ready to take on the pediatric dental experience. I was even smiling. No joke. I’m just not used to being able to take time for myself as I’m just normally scrambling to get everyone else ready. It was such a simple thing, but I was so grateful. I grabbed my mother and kissed her face while she cracked up laughing. Then I loaded up the offspring and away we went into the morning sun, listening to metal in the minivan.
Having kids is a full-time job (cue all the people that get offended because I used the word “job”) Sun-up to sun-down, and often in the middle of the night can really take a toll on a person, especially if your little critters are high maintenance. With all the questions, needs, and wants from our littles, a break can be a precious thing. Sometimes we need a vacation, sometimes we need a girls’ night out or maybe a date night. But sometimes, just sometimes…all we really need is a damn minute.
*So Mom, THANKS FOR THE MINUTE.