Ladies, do you recall the bliss of getting out of bed, taking a leisurely shower, getting dressed in a super cute outfit, applying your makeup (eyebrows on FLEEK!), blow drying your hair, grabbing your cute bag, opening the door, and just GOING.
Gentlemen, do you recall the ease of waking up in the morning and...going outside?
Yeah, me neither.
Let me paint you a picture of what things look like in my house every time we need to be somewhere at a particular time.
It is Saturday morning. We've known for about 2 months that we need to attend a party. For the purposes of this story, let's say it's a relative's birthday party. Because I know that things have a tendency to go off the rails really quick in my house, I tell my husband that we should probably start getting ready to go 2 hours in advance. The party starts at 3:00, it's a half hour drive, so we should start getting ready by 12:30. Sounds really responsible of us, doesn't it? 2 hours should be more than enough time to get our poop in a group and get to a party on time...for once.
Here's what actually happens in my house with four kids...
The baby goes down for a nap around 11:00. Fine, we'll let her sleep because she'll be cranky otherwise and really how hard is it to get her ready? We can save her for last. In the meantime, I start pissing away my time researching nonsensical things on the computer, while my husband falls into a coma on the couch. The older kids are playing on the computer and my toddler son is running around the house with underwear on his head. He is Captain Underpants, of course. Everyone is still in their pajamas. Except me, you can't rightly call what I'm wearing pajamas. I have on old sweat pants with a hole in the butt area and a ratty t-shirt.
Before I know it, I look up and realize that its 2:00 o'clock and no one is ready!! I immediately panic. I shove my husband awake and yell, "We're screwed. We need to get ready now. Take a quick shower so you can get done first and help me with the kids." He stumbles off like a zombie toward the bathroom. I start yelling for the children, except I might as well be screaming into a black hole because no is paying me any mind.
Me: "Come on kids. We're late! Get upstairs to get dressed!"
Kid 1: "But Mommmmm (eye roll, foot stamp, eye roll). Why do we have to go anyway?
Kid 2: "Yeah, my legs are tired. Can I stay home?"
Me: "We are all going! No one is staying home. This is going to be fun, dammit."
Toddler: "I have to go caca."
Me: "So go caca! Why do you have to announce it like that?"
Toddler runs off to caca. I drag the older two upstairs and immediately begin rummaging through their dressers trying to find outfits that will be comfortable enough to play in but also cute because GOD FORBID my children's attire reflect the hot sticky messes that I know we are. Need to look sharp for the inevitable Facebook pics! Right?! Ugh.
It's about this time that I feel IT starting to happen. What is IT you ask? IT is when the rage of having to rush around last minute because my family is incapable of managing time turns me into a screaming Puerto Rican version of the hulk. I am barking orders, I'm running up and down the stairs aimlessly, I'm tossing smoking hot ironed clothes at naked children. I got one shoe on and lipstick smeared across my forehead. It's freaking lord of the flies! Every man, woman, and child for themselves!
My dear husband chooses this time to conveniently make his appearance. He is freshly bathed. There is smoke billowing out of the bathroom from his nice hot shower. I want to kill him so bad. Instead, I say, "get dressed quick and get the baby up!" Seeing murder in my eyes he quickly turns around to get the baby. It's about this time that I start to notice a tiny voice screaming from the downstairs bathroom.
Crap! I forgot all about the toddler! He's screaming, "I'm doneeeee!!!" which is his way of telling me that he's ready for me to wipe his butt.
Let's pause for a second. If someone stopped you in the club one night while you were in your swinging twenties and told you that one day you'd be another human being's personal ass wiper - at their beck and call for every bowel movement - would you believe them? Drink up young readers!! I bring you tidings from the future. And that future looks like a parade of tiny butts attached to tiny people screaming "I'm doneeeee!!!"
I have finally managed to get the 3 older kids dressed. I check on my husband and he's about done dressing the baby. I decide that there's no time for me to shower. I estimate that if we leave in the next 15 minutes we will only be about 20 minutes late for the party...FML.
Once we are all downstairs, I realize that there is a fatal error in my timeline. It turns out that actually getting out of the front door with all four children is just as bad as trying to dress all four children. It is cold out so that means coats. It is a scientific fact that kids hate coats, also shoes, and long car rides. Every time I think I have one kid all suited up and ready to leave, I turn around to find the baby running around with one shoe on her foot and the other on her hand. Screw it. I grab the toddler and the baby and throw them into the car shoeless (we'll fix that later). The older ones shuffle into the car whining about how we're ruining their lives - the usual.
My husband is a firefighter, so he basically drives every car like it's an emergency vehicle. We make it to the party only a half hour late. Sadly, I consider that on-time for our family.
Invariably, someone at the party will say, "Four kids! I don't know how you guys do it!" The truth is, I don't know how we do it either. I think we all just do what we need to do to get everyone to the next day in one piece. Whether you have a menagerie of children like me, or you're a "one and done", parenting is hard. Don't forget to keep a sense of humor. And if your friends with a lot of kids are ever late to your party, just know that we really wish we could have left the kids at home too.
No body likes to get dressed up :(
