Do you laugh as hard as I do at the title of this post? Yep, we’d like to think that we have true downtime because we don’t have 1001 things planned, so we can “relax” at home. In actuality, there are 1001 things to be done at home, so we know our “relaxation” time isn’t ever that. I thought it would be interesting to see how I spent my downtime on a Saturday, so I thought I’d write about it to see just how much I did when I should be relaxing.
5 am. Heard eldest screaming in their room about something or another. My husband went to take care of it, because I had gotten up at 2 am with our youngest who was simply crying to cry, or that they were cold. Covered them with blankets, and passed into a deep sleep until 5 am. Then, when kids were up, husband got up with them (Saturday is my sleep in day, Sunday is his) and closed the door. Fell back into a blessed sleep.
7 am. Someone is screaming downstairs. Inserted earplugs and fell back, but still wondering what the hell the yelling was about.
7:40 am. Laying in bed. Check my phone, contemplate reading for a bit as I know I won’t be able to fall back asleep, but realize I’m hungry and can’t avoid going downstairs.
9:30 am. I’m not really sure where my early morning has gone. My husband made me breakfast (don’t coo because it was at my request – he makes the best over easy eggs), and two cups of coffee later, I have done two loads of laundry, balanced my budget, wrapped up some work I forgot from the day before, and answered a few emails. After changing my youngest’s poopy diaper (dammit, go on the potty all the time already!), my husband agrees to take the kids out for awhile to get them out of the house.
10:45 am. I get a text warning that my husband is coming back. It’s well warranted because I have been pilfering through my kids’ toys in the playroom, trashing (yes, trashing) anything too small to notice or breakable or ruined by some random game or another. I have organized my eldest’s puzzles into baggies, as the boxes have been broken, and hidden the evidence as he pulls in the drive.
11:45 am. Getting out of the shower, I realize that my husband probably won’t have gotten the kids’ lunches, so that will be next. I have cleaned all of the bathrooms and vacuumed the entire first floor, and my kids have cleaned the playroom too. They are coloring or something, and I can hear their chatter from behind two closed doors. So much for a nice relaxing shower.
12:30 pm. After fighting with my youngest (whilst they screamed and bawled) over finishing their pizza for lunch, I change the diaper and plop them in their crib, bidding them goodnight, but realizing that it’s only a nap, and bedtime is forever away. Is it too early for a cocktail?
1:45 pm. My eldest is happily playing on their LeapPad, my husband is snoring away on the couch (pronouncing himself simply exhausted), and I am stuck watching “How it’s made” reruns on the science channel. I am about to open up my book, when my eldest comes over, requesting attention. Although I want to read more, I would rather have a moment.
2:30 pm. My husband woke up, and is taking my eldest out. Finally! Mommy time!
2:31 pm. As the door closed to the garage, I could hear the guttural cry from the crib upstairs. Dammit.
3:15 pm. The door opens, letting my husband and my eldest in, and my youngest rouses from the spot on my chest, where they had fallen back asleep, rendering me useless (as well as STILL stuck watching “How it’s made”). My youngest immediately starts whining and I declare it “snack time”.
3:45 pm. After Cheez-its and random discussions, I escape to the couch for a few minutes by myself. The kids are coloring. I think.
4 pm. I realize I still have another email to write. Dammit. Better get that done before I forget. Again.
5 pm. I decide it’s time to get up off the couch (damn you, “How it’s made”. STOP SUCKING ME IN!) and make dinner. I decide to try a new recipe which is probably going to take me longer to do then the recipe says. And my kids probably won’t like it. Time to open that wine I was waiting until a reasonable hour to open.
7 pm. Bedtime, finally! Kids are tucked in, after an unsuccessful dinner (they had hot dogs instead) and several bouts of tears from my youngest, because they didn’t want to eat. Period. Milk, teeth brushed, story, pj’s, potty time. Everyone is tucked in.
7:30 pm. We finally settle into the couch to watch some DVR’d shows and eat some apple crisp I made. Just as we are getting the show ready, we hear a howl from upstairs.
8 pm. With everyone finally settled in, we are able to start up the DVR again. I turn to my husband to ask him a question about the show we are watching, and realize he is fast asleep. Sighing, I stop the show, turn back to “How it’s made” marathon and promptly fall asleep myself.
Where the hell did my day go? When did I actually have time to do what I wanted to do? I guess I got to shower, but that was all of 5 minutes, and wasn’t relaxing because I kept thinking about making lunch. Maybe next Saturday I can relax.
Yeah. Believe that, and I’ll tell you another one.