How My Day Was - As Illustrated by MS Paint

While taking care of 2 under 2 I experience days that make me feel like the best Mom ever, decent days, just okay days, and days where I want to crawl into a hole until my kids leave for college (okay not really, but you get the point). So here is a quick run down of what happens during each of those types of days, and what  sort of Mama G Mike comes home to in the evening.

SUPERMOM! Day

When Mike arrives home there is a culinary masterpiece waiting on the table, brownies baked for dessert, laundry folded, diapers stuffed, dishes done, toys put away, a blog post already written, and two happy and well-rested children along with a contented and AWESOME LOOKING (see right) Mommy. I feel great, empowered, and truly fulfilled. Okay now excuse me for a second while I go {sadly} laugh at the fact that this has happened only once in 10+ weeks but somehow I still hold myself to this ridiculous standard. I get frustrated that I just can't do all this every day.

Good Day 

No baked goods or blog posts to speak of, but when Mike arrives home we are all in good spirits with a crockpot dinner almost ready. I also had time to put on makeup, do something with my hair, and change into some real clothes (read: not pajamas or sweats). There are probably a couple chores left to do and an errant toy here or there but it doesn't look like hurricane Carina {oooh...yikes, too close?} went through the house. We're all happy, but maybe a little tired. We have more of these days; probably a few a week.

Okay Day

When Mike arrives home there are dishes in the sink and I probably didn't even bother with the {overflowing} laundry, but I did summon the strength to throw a frozen pizza in the oven. WIN. I managed to change into sweatpants, brush my hair, and slap on a little bit of eyeliner but other than that not much else gets done. There are toys strewn about the floor, part of Carina's lunch might be splattered on the wall, and I am tired. I breathe a huge sigh of relief when Mike walks in the door and pass him a kid {or two} and sit on my duff to zone out for a few minutes. I think I have one or two of these days a week.

GET ME OUT OF HERE Day 

Hours before Mike is supposed to arrive home I call begging him to please come home sooner for-the-love-of-all-that-is-holy or else I'm going to rip my hair out, shut myself in the bathroom, and eat an entire half gallon of ice cream. I'm still in my pajamas and doubt I've had a chance to put on deodorant. Both kids are probably screaming and/or angry at Mommy and the house is a complete dump. Like, so bad that WATCH OUT you just stepped in a fresh cat hairball. I wish these days were fewer and further between than they are, but I probably end up with one a week. I had three of them in a row a few weeks back and I thought I was going to have to be committed.

Which days do you have the most of? ;)

My Classification Levels of Poop Severity

I know, I know...I talk about poop too much. But it's such an integral part of life with an infant, it just can't be ignored. Plus, I know that deep down you probably find some sort of satisfaction in reading about other Moms who have witnessed the horror that you have yourself experienced.

Please forgive my crude paint skills. Clearly, I have none.

1 alarm: This is what we all hope to find when we unfasten a foul smelling diaper. Just a tiny little turdlet. Just one wipe and baby is good to go. Unfortunately I think I can count on one hand the number of times that this is all I have encountered down below.
2 alarm: This is what I usually find when I peel back Carina's diaper (wow - she is going to KILL me someday when she reads this, isn't she?) It's gross, but it's all contained within the confines of the diaper. Sure, it will take a number of wipes to take care of this mess, but usually no gagging is necessary.
3 alarm: When I see one of these I breathe a sigh of relief {possibly after a dry heave or two}. Even though the poop is on the very edges of the diaper, somehow none managed to escape it. Magically, no clothing falls victim to this epic deuce. Must be a miracle.
4 alarm: Crap (literally). A small spot on the pants or the back of the onesie is clearly visible. When I see this bad boy I scoop Carina up and haul ass (literally) to the changing pad. It's not the end of the world, but it means that some poor article of clothing needs to be thrown in the laundry ASAP. Also, it's probably going to drain the wipes container.
5 alarm: "How the eff did she manage that?!?" I think to myself as I curse my life and send in for reinforcements (If M is home, I usually recruit him to handle the shitty clothes while I make haste for the bathtub with Carina.) If it's just me, I laugh and cry at the same time as I clean up the mess, and then remind myself that I should maybe get on some type of birth control, at least until Carina is potty trained.

I hope to never ever encounter what a 6 alarm poop would look like. I can't even imagine...

Happy Friday, folks.