Days 2 and 3

So...me being the organization-crazed control freak that I am, I decided long before my husband packed his bags that we were going to write a schedule for the time he was gone and try like hell to stick to it. I made a calendar with our daily activities and posted it on the fridge. Even planned what we were having for dinner each night.

Why would any mommy in her right mind do that to herself? Two reasons; Firstly, I've always said I'm not really, truly happy unless I have at least a thousand things to do during the day, and at least three of them should be going on simultaneously. I don't know why I am this way. I don't really want to know. It's just how I survive. So this was the only way I figured I could actually keep my right mind.

And secondly, this gave my 5 year old something tangible to look at to see the time passing. Besides, it gave her some things to look forward to. When I first showed her the calendar she immediatley found a dry-erase marker and, even despite a trip to the beloved Dinosaur Park, a train ride to Salt Lake City, and a Fairytale ball at the local Children's museum, she circled the day her Daddy comes home.

I scrutinized each calendar day and tried to add just the right combination of chilling out and getting out. I figured I had it pretty well perfected by the time he left. But then.... life happens. Things don't always go as planned, especially when taking two daughters, 4 years apart into account.

Despite my careful planning and much to my inner control freak's dismay, days 2 and 3 were polar opposites of one another.

Day 2 was a beautiful, Sunny Saturday. The whole house slept well and baby woke up smiling. We finished our breakfast of muffins and juice on the porch in the sunshine. Keith called in the morning, after his flight arrived in Shanghai, which was his nighttime. We used Skype, which allows us to video-conference and see each other. It was nice to see him in one piece, however dishevelled, and kind of comforting to see him in his jammies and just out of the shower. He looked exhausted and said he hadn't slept much on the plane. He headed for bed after we hung up.

Little girl's best friend came over to play and stayed all day. During the baby's nap I read my book in the sun, and even did some writing! (applause here, thank you.)

At lunchtime we packed a picnic and headed to one of our favorite places, Barker Park. It's the most picturesque place I think I've ever seen, one of those places that you drive by and think: "I want to bring my kids here." Long, winding sidewalks through groves of thick oak trees, A gushing mountain stream running through a deep wood. Serene, soft green rolling hills. A concrete stage with walls fit for a castle. The playground almost fades into the background because of all the other great places for kids to play. It's definitely a hidden gem if you live in the North Ogden area. The girls caught ladybugs, climbed on low-hanging oak branches, (peed in the woods) and performed on the stage. The baby and I played in the grass and found dandelions, each of which she greeted with a big toothy smile. Bliss.

In the evening my Mom watched the girls and I met my friends for dinner, some adult conversation, and a much-anticipated Blackberry Margarita! Nothing like hanging out with Mom friends to give a girl a little perspective. By the time I finished up and arrived back at my Moms, the girls were sleepy and happy to see me. I was met with big hugs and smiles. Sedated, sweet, and a cinch to put to bed. (Them, and me.) I happily fell asleep reading my book.


Day 3 was Sunday. I planned for us to have a morning chiling out at home (no way am I attempting church by myself with two little ones.) And then visit the library and the local Blockbuster in the afternoon. I thought it would be a good way to start the week, mellow, and yet could still give us the opportunitiy to get out and stock up on entertainment devices for the week. (I don't know about yours, but our local library is a haven for me and the girls. We live for new books!)

The morning dragged. Baby Kaitley was irritable, a tad feverish, and sleepy at off times. Plus, I kid you not, this poor kid pooped nearly a dozen times before noon. (We have days such as this. Even when she's feeling fine. She's a cleanser, this child.) Erinne, having been accustomed to her Daddy's chocolate chip pancakes every Sunday, kind of balked at my Pillsbury cinnamon rolls. By noon she was sleepy too, and since the baby was still sleeping Er and I just hung out on the couch watching Phineas and Ferb. "Everyone quit doing things that I'm not good at!"

Finally Kaitley woke up- way too late in the day to ensure herself getting a second nap. She seemed ok, so I gave her a bottle and we went to the library. We were there maybe 10 minutes, Erinne tipped over the bead table. Kaitley was sitting on the floor with some baby books and, very obviously, pooping. One of those librarians that looks like she was born to be a librarian gave us a crusty look. I just wanted to get the hell out of there, so we checked out. On the way out, the beeper went off. I brought our library bag from home, and there was a little square baby book in the corner that didn't get scanned, so it totally looked like I was trying to steal. (Because, yes, of all the things I COULD steal it would surely be a dog-eared version of "Peek a Who! Peek a You!") Of course, it was Ms. crusty-eyes that checked us out. She kind of looked me up and down as she checked all the books in our bag. At this point I started thinking maybe I should have gone for a better shirt, done more than just a ponytail. Did I even brush my teeth today? For hell's sake.

So we get to the car. I get a blanket and put it in the hatch, lay the baby down to change her and...I don't have the diaper bag. I don't know if you non-mommys or mommys of older kids realize the severity of this realization. I don't have the diaper bag! I dig around and find a size-too-small diap in the consul, and try to clean her up with tissues wet from the water fountain outside. (Emphasis on try.) I button her up, find some strong sanitizer and hope that my hands don't smell like pooed out steamed carrots.

Still, we decide to brave Blockbuster. I find a couple of good chick-flicks and Little girl picks a Barbie mermaid movie. I try to talk her out of it, but the girl loves a good cheesy Barbie plot, who am I to judge? The visit was pretty uneventful, but later as the mermaid movie is playing and I'm coaxing baby to sleep, Er comes screaming up the stairs. She hates the queen, she says. She's too mean and scary and this show is for big kids and I shouldn't have had her choose that one, and she doesn't forgive me, and she doesn't want to watch it anymore. And, here it comes. She wants her Daddy. I say possibly the dumbest thing a mommy can say at this point, which is "Honey it's just a movie." This produces even higher screams, and since her sister has obviously severed one of her fingers, the baby starts screaming too.

Good times my friends, good times.

I did manage to watch my chick-flick, which was quite possibly the only good thing that happened today. I rented "Motherhood" with Uma Thurman. It was scarily appropriate and a little spooky. About a former writer, stay-at-home mother of two who blogs in tiny segments of time simply so she can KEEP WRITING. At the end she kind of loses it a little, freaks out, runs away and then, of course comes to her senses. I've done this myself at least a dozen times.

And that was just today.

But despite my overplanning and murphy's law and mean queens,* and poopy mishaps, we survived. We're not even halfway through this journey baby, and tomorrow brings another adventure. Can't wait to see what it brings!

Cindy

*librarians