Eggs, with a side of mamas tears!

Being a woman is amazing!! We get to do so many incredible things men don’t! Carry our offspring, multi-task, bleed 12 weeks out of the year, cry openly whenever you want! Mix all that together, and you have my Thursday morning! Riding the PMS rollercoaster is something I never really did till post children (carrying my offspring). It’s no joke either! The ups, the downs, the anxiety, the short temper…on top of cramps and purchasing your necessary toiletry items…it’s just too much! Thursday was the perfect storm of PMSing, chaos, children, and scrambled eggs! I want to cry again just typing it! lol I have been robbed of something I didn’t really know I had. Freedom in the morning! Since the start of our “Big Girl Bed” phase…life came to a screeching hault, and turned upside down! Like I’m sure it did for many unsuspecting parents thinking it was just going to business as usual! My blissful child “wake-up time” had been 9am, and suddenly turned to a 6-6:30am wake up. That’s barbaric and uncalled for for a night owl mama like myself! So my usual, casual, start to my day with some alone time, is now SHARED time. That’s unacceptable.  I don’t have a chance to get to “winning at life” before the little hellions awake from their slumber, and bring my expectations and hopes and dreams for the day down to the dark side! Little lovely, glorious, assholes! I awake stumble into their room, bad breath and all, to which the girls will ask “mommy poop?” Nope. I try to negotiate more sleep with my littles by rocking them back to sleep. This only awakens them more…and so the day begins. I’m already behind and there’s no catching you till you cry “uncle”, and tag somebody else in your lifeline and say “You’re IN! I’m OUT!” So with low hope for the morning, I walked out to the kitchen to assemble something edible. I walk into the pantry to look for cereal. By the time I decide “perhaps too much sugar for this morning and let’s do cheesy eggs!”, I turn around to see Hayden the instigator on the kitchen counter.  Standing.  Drizzling dish soap all over her hands and feet can counter, just like syrup. Laughing! God bless her. She’s having a GREAT time. My blood begins to start to simmer. The heat is rising. Then I get her down. Screaming ensues. On both ends, really. Me and her. Continue to assemble cheesey eggs. Hope is shockingly, rolling about on the couch, fingers in her mouth and blankie on her face because, SHOCKER, she’s still tired!! Ya think?? 6:30am is again, ridiculous!! By now, because I accidentally left the lock off the fridge door, Hayden has snuck out some BBQ sauce from the door, analyzing how to open it and I’m sure lather it all over her body. Blood is beginning to get a good ripple of activity through it. Hope is now wanting to cook in her kitchen and is asking for a “fork or ‘poon!”.  I have yet to crack one egg or fire up the stove top. We’re about a half hour in! Hayden is screaming to “sit up mommy! Sit. Up “ To which I reply “NO!”! Oh, immlosing it now! The reins are slipping out of my grasp and even Jesus can’t take this wheel!! She finds the bar stool to the counter where they eat, climbs up it and is splashing in the dirty dishes in the sink. Standard. Then places her feet in. Mind you, they have no clothing on, just a diaper, and chewed up food debris all in some pretty dread locks! Are you envisioning a beauty. A homeless beauty? Then we’re on the right track! At this point I threw all the ingredients in and was rolling. Finally Hope resurfaced after working on a “Big Poop”. I change her diaper, grateful she didn’t walk over to me with her “Big Accompolishement”! I get both girls strapped into their seats to ensure no counter dancing, and return to the cooking eggs of which I’m getting misty eyed because how is one human to accomplish anything in such insanity? At this point I look at the clock. My nanny is to arrive in 15 minutes. In that sliver of time I’m to accomplish vacuuming, dusting, unloading and reloading the dishwasher, get my teeth and hair brushed, apply something to my face to make me look alive. Envision the mommy version of the homeless child I just described and your looking at me. Hayden begins to cry because she’s strapped in, unable to maneuver around the counters.  Hope is asleep on her pile of blankies, waiting for her cheesey eggs. I begin to sob. I was jealous that Hayden got to openly weep, and knew I needed the release to! As my tears streamed effortlessly down my face, they forced my body to shake and I remained in the corner of the kitchen, crying my eyes out. I dwindled to a small, deprecated version of the Super-Human- Woman I would sometimes see myself as, and gave in to the melt down of my own. Suddenly, the sobbing ceased from behind me. Hayden and Hope were in shock.  And started to show compassion! Alas!! They have hearts, and are concerned about mama short-circuiting! The PMSing train was rolling through at FULL STEAM, and there was no stopping it.  It all got to be too much!  the stress of the kids got to be too much, The fight my husband and I had a month ago got to be too much, the finance struggle got to be too much, my childhood insecurities surfaced, the Sarah McClaghlin save the animals commercial got to be too much, Jack never letting go in Titanic got to be too much…it came to ahead. And then there was sweet sweet release! When PMSing, anything goes…and everything comes out. And its needed! My nanny arrived, I wept openly in front of her, just wanting significant evidence to others that it was ok to send my to the looney bin!! I got in my car, drove away from the scene of the crime as fast as I could, and got the biggest coffee Starbucks offered! I had my release. I needed it. We ALL need it!! I was able to openly laugh at the shit show the day gifted me with! At the end of the day, with the wild one Hayden in my arms I told her I loved her, and she whispered it back and drifted to sleep! Perfection. Balance. Insanity. It all takes place in a matter of moments when being a parent!!