As we were having dinner last weekend with a married couple similar in age and family status to us, the wife said something I found to be rabbinical in both its wit and wisdom.
“Right now, [my husband and I] are just working under the assumption that we actually love each other.”
I still chuckle every time I think of that line. On the surface it sounds ridiculous. Of course I love my wife. But dangit, if we hardly have a chance to tell each other that. Life is just too crazy. People have offered to watch our kids for a night so that we can get away, but we just don’t feel like we can subject people we love to the adventure that is two small children.
Look. Don’t cry for me, Argentina. I’m not on some kind of pity mission, here. I’m just keepin’ it real for those who don’t know what it’s like to have more than one kid. And I’m also helping myself out a little bit by processing why we need to do something soon to add some simplicity to our family life before this thing comes off the rails.
Just to affirm: I love my kids and my wife more than anything. I wouldn’t trade my life for the world. But I’d love to slow it down.
This is what last week looked like for us:
Sunday: I spent the morning pounding out some yard work, because it was looking like a jungle. Broke just in time to jump in the shower and make it to work in time for my Noon meeting that then wrapped at about 5:30pm.
Monday: Awoke to Elli climbing into bed with us at 3am. Moved to the couch so Elli could see me from her bed. Hung out with Zachary and an early-rising Elli at 6:30am. Put in a full day of work. Came home and made dinner. Got the kids put to bed with the help of the Manny. Played a little FIFA Streets 2 with the Manny until Stacy got home from evening clinic at 9pm. She mentioned that she wasn’t feeling well…
Tuesday: Up with the kids at night. Stacy wakes up complaining of stomach issues. Checked Twitter to find a tweet from the Manny complaining of stomach issues. Started praying that my own innards wouldn’t start melting, because I was the only adult left standing to take care of the kids. Hung out with the shorties all day. Got cabin fever. Made a Target run, which saw us get delayed in the parking lot as Zachary spit up the entire contents of his stomach. Wardrobe change. Shop. Dinner at Chick-fil-a. Back home for the night.
Wednesday: Wife’s recovered. Manny’s not. Get both kids out the door in time to drop Elli off at Preschool, which she doesn’t make easy. She screams and won’t let me leave, even though she LOVES preschool. I pry my way out of her kungfu grip and make it to work. Not a very productive morning, seeing as though I have a baby with me. His mother picks him up after lunch, and I finally get rolling.
Thursday: Manny’s better. Thank goodness. As I’m getting Elli ready for preschool, Zachary has the messiest diaper I’ve ever changed. It takes me 15 minutes to clean him up. Seriously. I should have just cut his onesie off of him, because pulling it off slimes his whole back with dookie. I wipe him down and ask the Manny to give him a bath, because Elli and I are now running late. Really late. Once again, she screams when I drop her off at preschool. I put in a 12 hour day at the office. Come home to find Stacy not there because she’s on call. I go to bed at 11, but she’s up all night.
Friday: Elli crawls into bed with me at 5am. I don’t have the energy to make her go back to bed, and I can’t sleep on the couch because the monitor is plugged in in my bedroom. In my state of fatigue, I worry about my ability to plug it in in the livingroom without electrocuting myself. So Elli stays in bed with me, but never really falls asleep.
Saturday: Hmmmmm. Waking up on the couch again. My alarm goes off at 6am, because we are taking kids from work to the dentist. My first pickup is at 7:10am. I get home at 2pm. The kids don’t stagger their naps, so I don’t get one. The consolation is that we eat dinner on the deck at McCoy’s. With all the ink in Westport, I’m reminded of the fact that I’m not very hardcore. I drown my sorrows in two mugs of root beer. Elli loves it, thus making her Kansas City’s Youngest Hipster. I’m in bed at 9pm.
Sunday: Wow. We actually make it on time to 9:30 church. Granted, Elli is none too happy about going to Sunday school. And I spend most of the service pacing the foyer with a fussy Zachary until he finally falls asleep with 10 minutes left. Let’s just say I didn’t fill out the sermon notes. We pick up sandwiches after church and head to a park, which is nice. But once again, I don’t get a good nap as Zeke starts barking 30-minutes into my slumber and gets me totally out of rhythm.
So there you go. A week in the life. Never a dull moment. Just working under the assumption that Stacy and I actually love each other.
Renew and Restore
