Friday, December 4, 2009

The Date Night Saga

My husband had a work party last night. I was so excited to get out. I had arranged babysitting and was determined to enjoy an evening with my spouse. Of course my little sidekick got to come, but after toting six children, toting one didn't seem like a big deal.

I've been feeling a tad frumpy, so I decided to go shopping. Now when I say shopping, I mean: go to Target, pray I find something cute, try it on in the largest dressing room so that the cart fits, change fast enough that the toddler unlocking the door won't expose me to the world, and get out as fast as humanly possible.

We had good luck at Target and I successfully bought myself a new sweater, new slacks and a new blouse. I was ready for a night on the town!

I had to get the children to the sitter's house (which happened to be my sweet sister-in-law) by 5:30, which meant I had to leave my house by 5:20. I had decided that I would have time to feed the kids dinner before hand, which meant I would have to be dressed by 5. It seemed reasonable when I planned it. But of course, chaos reigned supreme.

4:20 Kids mostly had homework done and I was nearly ready to go primp. O decides she wants to poop in the potty. I haul her in and sit her on the toilet. She spends the next 5 minutes declaring "poopoo all gone" even though nothing had exited her body.

4:30 I give up on O, put a diaper on her and carry the baby football style up to my room so I can get dressed. On my way up the stairs I holler to A that he still needs to practice the piano.

4:35 The baby is fussing in her jumper. She usually loves it in there, but not tonight. I pull her out and brush my teeth with her under my arm, once again football style. I determine that this will never work, so I put her in her bed, knowing she would cry, but needing five whole minutes to myself. I then run downstairs and pop a frozen chicken pot pie in the oven.

4:40 I am now dressed in my new clothes. I consider this a major victory. I slap some nail polish on my toes and proceed to walk around on my heels trying to find some perfume. I know I own some.

4:42 O comes in and informs me she "pooped again". I can smell her, but I send her out. I still need to curl my hair and put on make up. K comes in crying about some injustice, I pat her head and send her out.

4:45 My toes are mostly dry and I'm curling my hair. I hear piano music, if you can call banging on the piano out of frustration music, and am glad that at least some of my orders are being heeded. L walks in holding the baby.

"Why did you get her out?" I ask.

"She was crying mom, here." L tries to shove the baby at me, but I inform her that if she gets her out, she gets to play with her.

4:50 Hair is curled, makeup applied and the stench from the two-year old is overwhelming. I abandon any further primping I might have done ten years ago and go change her diaper. I take the crying baby from her sister, get her dressed and sit down to nurse her.

4:55 M comes in and shoves my phone at me. "It was ringing." Then O comes in and decides she wants her pants on. She wouldn't let me put them on her when I changed her. I told her she'd have to wait, or go ask her big sister. "NO!! Me do it." I then got to watch her struggle with them. She ultimately gives up, gets out some stretchy grey pants which she proudly wears inside out.

4:59 I'm finishing up nursing when I hear M start to holler that the pot pie is done. I holler down that somebody needs to pull it out so it doesn't burn. Nobody listens to me. When E pulls off, I declare her fed, and run downstairs to salvage the pot pie. Thankfully, it's still edible.

5:05 I start slapping frozen waffles onto plates for everyone who didn't want a pot pie and holler at them to eat. I go in the piano room and play for A a section of music that he can't get right and I go find my shoes.

Over the course of the next fifteen minutes, I feed children, pack a bag so they can get PJ's on later, pack a diaper bag, and get everyone in the car. Everyone except for K who is wandering the house crying about socks and shoes. On my way out the door my husband calls to see if I've left yet and if not, can I grab a few things for him. Sure, why not. I'm only insane now.

5:40 As I stand beside the car, finally ready to leave, I take a deep breathe and realize that despite my best efforts I feel more like 'Mom' than 'Sexy wife'.

The evening itself was a tad anti-climatic. It was fine. It made me miss pre-kid dating for sure.

1 comment:

Jodi Pettit said...

You do better than me in "shopping" for clothes. Generally I pick stuff up at Costco if it looks like it has potential and then try it on at home later. Often returning things because they looked so much better in the store than on my body :)

I do appreciate your thoughts. You do an awesome job of making the day to day frustrations comical and helping me to keep it in perspective.