"Welcome to Mommyhood"!

In January I went back to my job as a house parent at the VFW National Home for Children.  It was a hard decision but, on most days, I'm very glad that I decided to return.  I am working in a new house and have become the proud "houseparent" to four children ranging in age from 16 to 1. Two boys and two girls.  Yeah. It's gets nuts and by the end of the week I feel nuts. I thought about it a little more on my drive home and decided it might be post worthy :p.  

Life as a mommy is a mystery to those of us who have not have the privilege of birthing our own children.  Very few get the chance to take a stab at it (No I'm not implying that it's a violent job. Although there are days when I feel like a stab in the arm might be a nice distraction from the bickering, carpooling, and crying baby) before we are actually legally and biologically responsible for what we might produce.  Not to mention, be paid for it.  That's just one of the many things that makes this job so interesting.  

I usually work 40 hours in three days.  Tuesday afternoons-evenings, Wednesday morning until Thursday night.  I like that schedule.  It gives me a chance to have a long weekend at home with my family, do things I enjoy socially, go to school, and be with my new work family too.  But, by the time I am driving home on Thursday night, I'm whooped.  My eyes have glazed over, my body feels limp, and I'm pretty sure I look like a hot mess, but can't prove it since there has not been a single free second in the prior 12 hours for me to take a look in the mirror.  Yikes!

Today was a day to sum it all up.  Enough happened in this one day that I'm pretty sure it was the culmination of the last three months in this position.  

I was up at 6am.  Early, but not so bright.  I didn't get to bed until close to 1.  The night before we had gone to watch one of the kids cheer at a district basketball game, run to GameStop so another one could trade in a game for a new one, attend a banquet after the game, and then get home for American Idol, a family favorite.  By the time everyone was in bed, I needed some time to wind down.  I now completely understand why my parents wanted to tuck us in so early when we were younger. It's the only time during the day when you can be alone with your own thoughts.  That is, if your brain isn't too tired to conjure any up.

The baby was up not long after me.  He woke up after hitting his head on the crib. Ouch.  I got him some food while encouraging the girls to get moving so they wouldn't miss their bus.  Just as that whirlwind settled down, another one began.  Round two of the wake-ups.  Time to get the other kid up and off to school.  I should know what this process entails because I did it for 12 years when I was in school.  Being on the parent end of it is completely different.  I ask myself a million times: did they get their meds, are their clothes appropriate, warm enough, etc., who's lunch is still on the counter, have I eaten breakfast yet, where's the baby?! It's too comical.  

The last kid is out the door by 7:45am, the baby is usually ready for a nap or another meal, and I get laundry started, clean up the house for the team meeting, bake muffins (from scratch I might add!) for the meeting, do the dishes, and get myself dressed and cleaned up.  The baby goes to nursery, the meeting drones on longer than usual, I have to pee but can't leave because they need my thoughts on allowing one of my kids to raise a hog for 4-H fair, and I'm pretty sure my stomach is going to eat itself because I'm so flippin hungry.  I still can't remember, did I eat breakfast this morning?

After the meeting it's off to Sam's to get groceries, run a few other errands, and then back to the nursery to get the baby.  Something happens when he goes there.  He is always crabby when we pick him up!  So he whines and cries and then starts to scream as I put him down so that I can unload the groceries.  

For those of you who have kids, you might just be nodding your head, laughing at my ignorance, or smiling coyly at the shock I feel when I realize how hard being a mommy is.  And, these aren't even my kids, I'm getting paid and I get to go home. 

Many more things happened between 2pm when I got home with the baby and the groceries and 8pm when I left for my house.  I'm sure you are getting the jist of it and maybe even hoping I'll stop making a short story so long. So here it is: the highlight of today would have to be the baby throwing up on my clothes because he was coughing so hard or crying every time one of us decided to put him down (teething is a b!&#*). Or maybe it was the argument with my Jr. high boy about why you need to wear clean clothes more than once every three or four days.  Or it could have been the fun game of cards we all played together before having a nice dinner as a family...all 8 of us.  Yep. I'm going with the last one.  

No matter how tired I am, no matter how dazed and out of it I feel, the fun family time together is when I realize that my exhaustion stems from me giving this my best effort.  And, while my best effort may not always be up to the standards of an everyday super-mom, it is giving the best I have to four children who, for several reasons, aren't able to live with their own families. Even when I'm covered in baby throw up and yammering about laundry while nobody is listening to me (despite the number of kids standing in front of me), I feel incredibly blessed.   In one friend's words to me the other day, "Welcome to mommy-hood!"  It's a rough place, but I kinda like it here :).