We Are All In This Together!

After receiving the following e-mail from a dear friend, who happens to be a harried, working mother, I had an "A-Ha" moment. We are all reallying in this together. It doesn't matter if we are in our 20s, 30s or 40s, if we are stay at home moms or working moms, if we are tiger moms or earthy moms, we are all paddling upstream and praying not to be taken out by the rapids that are waiting just around the bend....

After a night of tossing and turning due to simultaneous premenstrual cramps and perimenopausal hot flashes (really?!!), this is how my morning began . . .

1. My son woke me up in a hysterical lather that he couldn’t find his experiment on YouTube and that he needed posted before he left for the bus in three minutes.

2. While they ate breakfast, my daughters waged an all-out-brawl over a plastic turtle bathtub toy.

3. While negotiating the sisterly spat (see #2), I spent over 20 minutes on the phone trying to explain to the customer service rep. at my on-line prescription company that they had mistakenly sent me a prescription for Paxil rather than my correct medication (although after the frustrating conversation, the thought of popping a few Paxil sounded pretty good.)

4. Now running twenty minutes late (see above), I quickly threw together some breakfast to eat in the car, and then promptly left it sitting on the kitchen counter.

5. Rushing daughter #2 into the car, I realized that both dogs were still outside, so I then spent the next ten minutes chasing them around the yard in the rain, trying to cajole them to get back inside.

6. Now running a good thirty minutes late (see above), I careen out of the driveway (narrowly missing the babysitter’s car) only to get stuck behind a delivery truck driving the entire length of my commute at a geriatric pace.

7. While fuming behind the maddeningly slow truck, I realize that I had forgotten to brush my teeth this morning (see above). Scary.

8. After dropping off daughter #2 at school, I make a mad dash into Walgreens for the necessary toothbrush, toothpaste, and power bar.

9. Arrive at the gym only to realize that I had forgotten to pack a clean bra and extra pair of underwear with my work clothes. Make the quick calculation that I should “save” my only clean bra and underwear for my post-workout work day (sensing that attending faculty meeting braless and commando was not a “professional power move.”)

10. Instead, try to camouflage my ample and gloriously unfettered chest by wearing my heavy fleece (and nearly passing out from heat exhaustion on the elliptical) while attempting to “support” myself discreetly with my elbows.

And to think it was only 9:00am!

It is no surprise that when I started mentally comparing my day with hers, there were striking similarities. A run down looks like this:

7:00 a.m. Please, just 15 more minutes of sleep! (Since I had an hour and half of insomnia at the convenient hour of 12:30 a.m.)

7:15 a.m. Dragged myself out of bed in a sleep deprived stupor to the chorus of hungry boys with various short order cook-type orders for breakfast.

7:30 a.m. Son #4 is plugging his ears upon the singing of "Happy Birthday" by his 3 brothers because he thinks they are making fun of him. Argument of inane nature ensues.

8:00 a.m. Son #2 wants me to completely rework the brim of his new hat (this involves intricate cutting and sewing) so it will be "cool" despite the fact that no one is yet dressed for school.

8:15 a.m. Son # 2 still bitching about the uncool hat while I am fielding requests from all sides for tying of shoes, missing books and "better" school snacks.

8:30 a.m. Trying to get out the door for yoga while son #4 wants to take a toy gun to his Catholic pre-school and cannot be reasoned with because it is his birthday. Realize son #2 is sitting on the lawn pouting about uncool hat. Hear bus driving off in the distance. Freak out on son #2 about how he is a totally unreasonable child and now I have to miss yoga to drive him to school. Get to bottom of hill and see bus is still there. Feel like an idiot for freaking out.

9:00 a.m. Squeeze into last legal space and race into yoga to "relax."

9:05 a.m Realized I have forgotten my water bottle, have no cash and no clean bra for after shower.

10:15 a.m. With 15 minutes left, I can't do another damn thing, so I head out to the hall with girl who threw up from the heat. The instructor promptly requests that I return to finish class (a.k.a. a polite way to say I need to suck it up.) I do, not because I want to, but because my eldest child nature kicks in and I instantly obey any commanding authority figure.

11:15 a.m. Pick up son #4 who promptly throws a fit because we aren't going to McDonalds and it is his birthday.

11:30 a.m. Sit son #4 in front of wii so I can go out and continue to spread the truckload of mulch I thought was an absolutely necessary purchase. My back and neck are screaming from the insane pace I set yesterday after the dump truck pulled out of the driveway. It doesn't look like I have done anything.

All goes well, until: 3:15 p.m. Son #4 wants to go for a bike ride and throws a fit because I won't walk his bike down the hill for him or ride my own bike. (See request #1). Get down the hill and across the neighborhood when the (God-Damned !!!) ice cream truck pulls into the neighborhood. Son #4 goes tearing down the middle of the street on his bike without looking while chasing the truck. I proceed to scream his name throughout the neighborhood at a volume that would alert orbiting satellites. Son #4 doesn't pay any attention. I appear to be completely insane to those passing by.

Fast forward through the groans and complaints of dinner, 4,000 dessert requests despite the fact that not one child ate any vegetables and the mad dash out the door for baseball. Of course, the baseball schedule was just changed yesterday and I checked yesterday's email about 2 hours ago. Book club meeting canceled at the last minute and boys whining that they are too tired to go. I am left with sons #3 and #4 and a new computer monitor to install. Practically electrocute myself in the attempts to keep them from "helping" me. Install new monitor and old mouse dies. I am hardly surprised. Screaming fight over the foam packaging that was inserted to keep monitor intact during shipping. Life-or-death craft project with said foam commences at 7:45 p.m, complete with packing tape, Elmer's glue and magic markers. After cajoling them upstairs, screaming match over who takes a bath first, who uses which tub and who get which toys. My neck and jaw are pulsing and hoping husband returns soon to keep me from killing them.

Chaos breaks out at 8:15 p.m. when sons #1 &#2 return. Dirty baseball cleats, socks and gloves thrown all over the kitchen I managed to clean between the computer problem and the craft project. No one wants to go to bed. 8:45 p.m. I am screaming about teeth brushing, "No, you are not getting dessert!" and"I told you three times to get into bed!" Husband looks at me like I have lost my mind and has no idea why I am so stressed out. Hide in the basement at 8:55 to write blog while choruses of "Mom, "Mom!" follow me down the stairs, directly past husband who is parked in front of the t.v. watching a play off game (i.e. really important t.v. viewing while deaf and blind to all around him.)

It's only Wednesday and it certainly feels like a Monday. Goodie. I get to get up and start all over again tomorrow! We may be all in this together, but DAMN, this motherhood gig can be a bitch slap to the head!