6:45 AM
The dog barks outside as a size six toddler foot lands on the side of my face rousing me awake. I shove the foot off without opening my eyes then try to roll away but am greeted by the long spindly legs of a four-year-old blocking my way. I feel beneath my pillow, locating my phone and pressing the power button to light up the screen. It is only 6:48 AM—what the hell is that dog on about? I wedge myself back down, content with being the center of a human sandwich a little longer.
7:20 AM
I am awoken again by yet another foot in the face, but this time it is followed by whining and a nearly intelligible “mommy…” I open an eye to check the source of the sound. A diaper clad two-year-old stares up at her four year old sister who is for some reason standing on the bed. Two-year-old grunts and extends her leg towards her older sister causing her to lose her balance and fall off the bed. She screams like she is dying as she lands on the floor butt first.
I open my eyes—the day has begun.
7:35 AM
I pour out the old coffee into a mug and put it in the microwave. During the two minutes it takes to heat up, I rinse out the coffee pot and replace the filter and old coffee grounds with fresh ones and start the pot. It is going to be a long day.
7:45 AM
The four-year-old request waffles for breakfast so I put a few in the toaster. Two-year-old is walking around with a full diaper hanging off her, which she tugs down to the floor and walks out of—now fully naked.
I remind myself to pick up the diaper and throw it away as the toaster pops.
I make plates of cut up waffles and syrup, along with sippy cups of chocolate milk. I carry them waiter-style into the living room where the girls are staring at the television in a way that probably isn’t healthy. They argue over who gets which plate, even though both are exactly the same, as they settle into their seats.
I return to the kitchen as the coffee pot gurgles letting me know that it has completed brewing. This reminds me of the coffee in the microwave and I go to get it, walking past the diaper I remind myself again to pick up. I tell myself to do it right after I put cream in my coffee but a scream erupts from the living room. I walk passed it again as I run to check on the source of the sound.
8:00 AM
I sit on the couch watching the children lick syrup off their plates while the waffles lie discarded next to them. What can I do? I can’t force them to eat. I wait for the two-year-old to finish licking and grab baby wipes. I try to clean her up, but she pulls away and runs, giggling. She is still naked. I stare down at the cup of yesterday’s coffee and take another sip. I watch a few seconds of Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood before the two-year-old returns. “I pee” she says, staring at me as pee runs down her legs and puddles beneath her.
8:15 AM
I throw the towels into the wash and turn it on. I wash my hands free of urine and return to the living room where the girls have abandoned the waffles and syrup. I use the discarded wipes from the toddler chase to clean some of the mess before carrying the plates to the sink in the kitchen. I notice the pile of dishes and start organizing them to load into the dishwasher. I open the dishwasher and see there are clean dishes already inside. I start the process of unloading and putting away the dishes and then reloading the dishwasher with the dirty ones.
The children circle around me as I navigate putting things away. A chase starts between them and the two-year-old clings to my leg, making it impossible to move anywhere. “Up, momma!” She demands, pushing me to get my attention. The four-year-old yells “No!” at her sister which sends the two-year-old into a melt down. I tell her not to yell at her sister. She takes off running. I pick up the two-year-old and hold her while finishing loading the dishwasher and starting the cycle.
8:36 AM
I hand the two-year-old a frozen yogurt popsicle wrapped in a paper towel and sit her down in the living room with Daniel Tiger. I hope the yogurt lasts long enough that I can get a few more things done. I walk to my bedroom and pull the sheets and cover off my bed. I stack the pillows at the head where they belong and throw out the sheet, pulling it into place.
The four-year-old enters the room as I am pulling the top cover of the sheet. She dives under the cover and squeals “There’s a monster, Mommy. Run!” In the process of hiding she pulls the sheet off and makes it impossible to finish making my bed. “Can the monster chase you into your room?” I ask and she glares at me but finally gets the hint and takes off again.
9:00 AM
The washer chimes, calling me to the laundry room to move the clothes to the dryer. On the way I pick up random articles of dirty clothing and towels so I can start another load.
9:15 AM
I hear the front door squeak as I hit the start button on the washer. I stick my head around the corner and see my four-year-old disappear outside. What the hell is she doing? I yell, “Where are you going?”
She turns and looks at me, “Sister went outside. I will get her.” She exits out the door and I hear the two-year-old scream. I follow them out and see the older one pulling the hair of the younger trying to get her to follow her back into the house.
“Don’t do that! Let her go!” I say, walking over to them and picking up the two-year-old. I carry her back inside.
9:25 AM
4 year old: “Mom, can I have a snack? Mom, can I have candy?”
Me: “Candy isn’t a snack.”
4 year old: “Mom, can I have a healthy snack? Is ice cream healthy?”
Me: “No, ice cream is a junk food.”
4 year old: “Why are all the good food junk!?
Me: “…”
I hand her some raisins and carry a basket of clean clothes out of the room.
9:30 AM
I separate the clean clothes and fold them. The two-year-old is playing quietly at the table with crayons and a coloring book. I can see her from where I am sitting. The older one followed me into the room where I am folding and as soon as I have neatly stacked towels, she pounces on the pile destroying the work I had just completed.
“Mom can I have breakfast?”
“You already had breakfast and I just gave you raisins.”
“Raisins are junk.”
I shake my head, “No.”
“But I like them, so they have to be junk.”
“Please get off the towels. I just folded them.”
She looks at the pile she is sitting on and then lays on top of them. I give up trying to fold and pick up a stack of her clothes and walk to her room to put them away. She follows me.
Most of the clothes end up on the floor.
At least they are clean.
9:45 AM
The washer chimes and I switch the clothes to the dryer. By now there is another load worth of clothes that need washing, so I go ahead and gather them and load them into the washer. The two-year-old is trying to help me and starts frantically pushing buttons on the washer trying to get it to start. I show her what button to push and she presses it multiple times, pausing the cycle. When it doesn’t start, she begins fussing about it. I push the start button again and thank her for being such a big help.
She is still naked. The diaper from this morning is still on the floor.
10:00 AM
The four-year-old does not want to watch Daniel Tiger anymore and demands that I turn on YouTube kids for her. I tell her that if she asks nicely I will. She refuses and starts crying and yelling. Why is being four so hard that she must yell so much of the day?
In her rage of not getting her way she throws a stuffed animal across the room and accidentally hits her sister in the head. Now they both are crying, and not only will she not ask for what she wants, she also won’t apologize because it was an accident. I try to explain that even accidents deserve apologies, but she won’t have any of it. Little sister is mad about being hit in the head and takes the stuffed animal hostage. Older sister demands the return of her absolute favorite toy instantly but little sister refuses. A battle begins and I am right in the middle of it.
Is it bedtime yet?
10:05 AM
After the four-year-old’s attempt to retake the toy is unsuccessful she becomes angry and smacks the two-year-old on her back—leaving a large red welt. Screams erupt from her tiny body, as I remind the four-year-old again that we don’t hit. I direct her to time out. She tells me no, so I pick her up and put her in the seat. Every time I move away from her, she gets up and I have to put her back. The battle turns into a war and my arms are getting tired.
Did I even eat breakfast?
After ten times of putting her back in the seat, she finally stops trying to get up. Instead, she turns away from me to face the wall. I sit down on the floor next to her seat, and we both take the four-minute time out. The two-year-old sits on my lap and waits with us.
This is the quietest this house has been in weeks.
10:09 AM
Time out ends, and I ask the four-year-old why she got in trouble, but she refuses to answer. I tell her she can get up if she answers me. She just sits there.
How did she get so defiant? If she has this much attitude at four, I am in for it when she is a teenager.
After another minute she quietly gets up and walks over to me, sitting on my lap. Her sister goes to the chair and sits down—all smiles. “Sister is in time out now!” The older one says, smiling along with her.
“No one is in time out if everyone is good and nice to each other,” I say and hug her. She hugs back and asks her sister to play with her in her room. They leave together.
What was I doing before all of this happened? I can’t seem to remember.
10:12 AM
I pick up the cup of yesterday’s coffee and take it to the kitchen. I dump it down the sink and refill it with today’s coffee. I take a drink. It is still slightly warm. I grab a pack of frozen ground beef from the freezer and lay it out to be used for dinner. I don’t know what I am making, but it will have ground beef in it. I sip the coffee and tidy the kitchen a little more.
I go to check on the girls and notice a trail of water leading from the bathroom. I find them feeding baby dolls from old baby bottles they pulled out of a storage box. Filling up the bottles led to the water mess. I don’t argue with them. No need to start an unnecessary fight. I use a towel to clean up the mess and remind them to wipe up water they spill. I recommend they keep the water in the bathroom or even outside. I carry the towel to the laundry room, and hear the front door squeak open again. I guess they took the outside comment literally. I grab my phone and follow them outside.
10:36 AM
The baby dolls lose their appeal once we get outside. They pour the water out of the bottles and abandon them next to me so they can swing. The four-year-old relieves herself by squatting next to a nearby tree, instead of going back inside to potty. Now they are both completely naked while they swing and giggle. I walk over and pick up the clothes she discarded after peeing on them accidently. I have more laundry to do anyways.
I sit down on the two-seater swing across from theirs and log into my school account to see if I can do homework while they are content. I scroll through the list of reading assignments and feel a tightening in my chest as I become suddenly overwhelmed. I close out the window and open my work email. Distance learning professional development requests, meeting times, and deadlines fill the screen. The tightening continues.
I close that window too and put my phone on the swing next to me. I look at my girls and watch them kicking the air as they fly back and forth.
10:48 AM
The cat prances up to us and the two-year-old decides to follow her. This makes the four-year-old unhappy since it is her cat and she doesn't want her sister to touch her cat. She runs after the cat and picks her up in almost a baby hold. The cat doesn’t fight right away but soon becomes agitated and tries to escape the tiny squeezing arms.
“Be nice,” I call out.
She drops the cat, who runs away, the two-year-old following closely behind. They approach the road and, as the cat wanders onto it without care, I call after the two-year-old. She smiles at me and puts a foot out like she is going to enter the road. We live in the middle of nowhere so cars don’t frequent the street. Still, I don’t want her to pick up the habit of feeling safe when she walks on roads. I glare at her, my eyes and mouth conveying a clear message: Don't you dare. She puts her foot down and I am there, in a half a second, to pick her up.
She is full of giggles and squirms in my arms. I blow a raspberry on her exposed belly and she laughs harder. The four-year-old watches us. She runs up to me and begs for raspberries to be blown on her belly as well. The wind blows and she screams and runs towards the house. Thank goodness for irrational fears of storms.
11:10 AM
Three days ago, the oldest decided to practice her cutting skills on paper. The results still cover the living room floor, even though I told her it was okay to practice only if she cleaned up after herself. I ask her again to help me clean it up. She picks up a few pieces and then climbs into an abandoned cardboard box and starts meowing.
Apparently, cats don’t clean paper off the floor.
11:25 AM
The living room is finally clean! There are no random articles of clothing or dishes stacked up around the couch. I walk out of the room feeling accomplished and go to the kitchen to start making lunch. I turn on a true crime podcast via my phone and listen to the sad tale of some poor murdered soul as I cut up apples and hotdogs and heat up leftover corn. I place the items on plates and color coordinate their cups, just like the oldest likes. It is just another small thing I do in hopes it will entice her to eat. I carry the plates to their little table and almost drop them on the floor when I see the mess they created while I was gone.
The living room floor is covered once again in tiny pieces of paper and the youngest has colored herself black with a marker. She meows at me when I sit the plates down on the table and walk back towards the kitchen.
12:30 PM
The girls have returned to playing cats while I clean up after lunch. I remember the laundry and switch it again. I include the outside clothes and more towels that seem to have appeared from nowhere. I hear them screaming again and go to check on them. The youngest has fist full of her older sister’s hair and won’t let go. I separate them and pick up the youngest, telling her that we don’t pull hair. She just grunts in response as I comfort her older sister.
12:35 PM
I sit down on the couch to take a break, but it doesn’t last. The two-year-old runs into the room and climbs onto my lap. Her older sister has decided to take her own revenge and I can feel the bump rising on the youngest one’s head.
“Enough you two,” I pick up the remote and scroll through the movies until I find one, I know will distract them a bit. “Come snuggle with me and watch this movie.”
They crawl into my lap and stare at the screen. I can tell they are both tired. After twenty minutes the youngest is asleep but the oldest is still going strong. She keeps talking and I tell her that I need to put her sister in her bed. I move her to her bed as an elephant runs headlong through my house. Okay, so not really an elephant, but she sure sounds like one. Luckily the two-year-old is sound asleep and doesn’t wake up to the noise. I close the door as best I can and return to my stampeding eldest child.
1:00 PM
I check my email again and try to work through some of the near due requests. I pull out my computer and the four-year-old practically sits on the keyboard.
“Play with me.”
I tell her I have some work to do and then I will play. She doesn’t stop asking. I finish a few work tasks and try to do some homework while she is distracted by the cat who has decided to come into the house. She asks me again to play and then for a snack and then to play again. Eventually it gets to the point where I can’t focus on anything else, so I give in and we go to her room to play.
1:30 PM
My phone rings – my work is calling. I answer it but can’t hear anything they are saying with the meowing coming from beside me. I am sure whatever the message was will be repeated in an email –or at least I hope so.
1:45 PM
“Can we make slime?”
“Sure.”
2:30 PM
I am on my hands and knees cleaning baking soda and cornstarch off the floor and counter. So much for thinking that was a good idea.
3:00 PM
The youngest calls for me and I know she has woken up. I go to her room and pick her up for a post nap snuggle. The four-year-old asks if we can go outside again and I tell her sure as soon as her sister wakes up all the way. She decides she needs to get clothes on before she goes out and goes to her room to find some. When she comes back, she is wearing a dress and some sweatpants and is fighting with her socks trying to get them on her feet. Angrily she throws them across the room screaming that they don’t fit her. I collect them and ask her if she needs help and she tells me no. I wait for her to escalate into a full blown meltdown and finally hand her sandals to wear so socks are a nonissue.
She puts them on and takes off for the door. I need to find a lock she can’t undo.
3:45 PM
I am cooking dinner when the four-year-old enters the kitchen and pulls the refrigerator door open.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Getting a snack.”
“You don’t need a snack; I am making you dinner right now.”
“But I’m SO hungry!”
I shut the fridge and tell her she has to wait. Of course, this isn’t acceptable. She opens the cabinet instead and starts pulling canned vegetables out onto the floor.
No wonder this house looks the way it does.
4:30 PM
I carry plates to the dining table and sit them out for both girls. The oldest was starving twenty minutes ago but suddenly isn’t hungry. Eventually she takes a few bites and then walks up to me where I am eating.
“I ate dinner, can I have ice cream?”
“Um…not right now. I am eating.” I say indicating my plate of food.
“But I ate!” She squeals and attempts to climb up on me causing me to almost drop my plate.
“Go eat more and then maybe you can have some when everyone is done eating.”
“But I don’t like it! I tried it.”
I glance at her plate and see the cheese on her taco is gone as well as some of the rice I put on her plate next to it. I look at the younger one. She is eating everything. I have always been so proud of how well she eats. I hope I don’t ruin it somehow.
5:00 PM
Bath time means layering the bathroom floor with towels so there isn’t a flood and being ready to administer CPR if someone decides to drown someone else. I may look like I am reading homework over here but really, I am waiting to save someone.
6:30 PM
They don’t want to get out of the tub, so I let them play. Eventually the water turns colder, and they climb out, bringing half the water with them. The trail they leave along my hardwood floors is almost as wide as the one left by my tears as I try to encourage them to put on clothing for once today.
I need a drink so bad.
7:30 PM
My husband finally arrives home and as he heats up his dinner the girls attack him instead of me. I use the free few minutes I have to use the restroom alone, but it doesn’t last, and soon tiny hands appear beneath the door to the bathroom.
7:45 PM
I try to clean up around the house a bit more while my husband and the girls watch a little more television and play. Occasionally they run to me and I have to comfort one of them or help navigate something, but I am finally able to finish putting away the first load of laundry, so it isn’t covering my bed.
8:00 PM
The youngest is ready for sleep so I take her to brush her teeth to which the older one follows. I lay down with the two-year-old and hope their father can keep her sister occupied long enough for her to fall asleep.
8:05 PM
The door squeaks open, “Mommy?”
“Shhhh…sister is trying to sleep. What’s up?”
“Can I lay down with you?”
“If you can be quiet, sure.”
She crawls into bed but leaves again after a few minutes. I log onto my school account and start reading my required readings for the week.
8:10 PM
The door squeaks open again. I look down at my two-year-old who had finally fallen asleep. Her eyes are still closed. I turn to the older one, “Yes?”
“I want to sleep in here.”
“Ok, but you have to be quiet, your sister is trying to sleep.”
It takes a moment for her to crawl into the bed with me and settle down. It takes even longer for her to stop fidgeting. I can hear their father change the channel on the television in the living room. It must be nice to not be the cream in a human cookie sandwich every night of your life.
9:30 PM
They are both finally asleep! I crawl out of bed and go to the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed myself. When I finish, I lay down in my own bed and play a few mobile games, then read a little more of my schoolwork, before finally closing my eyes and trying to go to sleep myself.
11:00 PM
I am woken up by fussing. I try to ignore it, but it doesn’t stop. I stare at my husband who is snoring undisturbed beside me. It hits me that the girls are in bed together and if one is awake the other won’t be far behind. I can’t let that happen. I get up and go to the room to comfort the fusser.
I lay down next to the two-year-old who takes a few minutes but finally passes out again. I get up and try to return to my room, but she wakes up again before I can even fully get out of the bed. I settle back down and pull up my school reading on my phone. I might as well be productive while I wait for her to fall asleep.
1:03 AM
I wake up and suddenly feel the need to pee. I know if I ignore it then I will not be able to go back to sleep so I check to make sure both girls are still sleeping and get out of bed as carefully as I can. As I finish in the restroom and walk towards my room, I notice the diaper from this morning is still on the floor where it was dropped.
I bend over and finally pick it up, walking it to the trash. I pull out the drawer housing the trashcans and move to drop it inside only to be greeted by bags overflowing to the point there is no room for even the diaper. I shut the drawer and drop the diaper back on the floor.
Tomorrow I will change the trash and throw the diaper away.
Tomorrow I will get things done.
