I thought I’d be able to talk to adults…

So this is my new blog. I feel as though I have so many stories about my new life as a stay at home mom that they need to be shared with the world (read: I want a ton of people to read my crappy, non-sequitorial thoughts and somehow translate this into a lot of money. No? Okay, just for fun then). I’m an ICU nurse by trade and was that person who swore she’d never have kids. And IF I did have kids, I’d definitely have a job, career, life outside the home. The “stay at home mom” gig was never my style. Somehow I  got strong armed made the choice to stay home with my two small daughters full time….

Funny how things work out. Somehow “I’m never having children” morphed into “I not only have two of my own, but I have two of someone else’s, also”. This is what happens when you marry a man with baggag- I mean, an ex wife. Who is sixteen years your senior. So there’s Jean (22), William (19), Susan (3.5) and Kathryn (13m).

I adore my children. All four of them. I would walk through fire to the ends of the earth for them. No, really, I promise.

I just thought I’d be able to talk to adults, too.

Take this morning for example. I’m trying to feed my two daughters before the other three (yes, three) children that I nanny arrive for the day. (That’s an entirely different story…)

It’s breakfast. It happens every day. My three year old (we’ll call her Susan) is one of those kids who’s blood sugar drops 2 points and she turnes into the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (bonus points if you get the reference). I, of course, am attempting to prevent this unseemly metamorphosis. So I’m trying to get food into her quickly, but without actually letting on that I’m trying to do anything quickly as this will certainly ensure that it takes four times as long if Susan catches on.

Our conversation goes something like this:

Me: Okay, sweetie, what do you want for breakfast? Kathryn is having cottage cheese. Would you like some, too?

Susan: I’m not hungry.

Me: Well, it’s been a long time since dinner. What else would you like? We have Cheerios.

Susan: No, I want something other. (“something other” is what she says when she wants anything but what I’ve suggested, but doesn’t actually know what this mystery food item is)

Me: What ‘other’ do you want? (Yes, I know you aren’t supposed to repeat your child’s grammatical and speaking errors back to them. I am all cruncy and new wave and smart and shit. My child has the vocabulary of a six year old. It’s early. I am not a morning person and am not allowed coffee any longer, so bear with me on this one.)

Susan: Something other.

Me: You’re going to have to be more specific than that. We have toast, we have hard boiled eggs, we have blueberries. Any of those strike your fancy?

Susan: No.

Me: Okay, we’re running out of options, babe.

Susan: I’m not hungry.

Me: (waving the white flag, as I refuse to get into battles over food with my children) Alright, I’m not going to force you to eat. Don’t forget that I may not be able to drop everything and get you food right away when you are feeling hungry later.

I turn and return the cottage cheese to the refrigerator and continue feeding the baby. Susan immediately starts howling, big fat toddler tears running down her face and she’s already hitching those big, non breathing sobs.

Me: What is it, honey? Did you hurt yourself?

Susan: N-n-no. (sniff)

Me: Okay, what is it then?

Susan: I’m hungry. You didn’t give me any cottage cheese.

Sigh. Just another Monday morning in my house.

Hope you choose to keep reading. 😉

Advertisements

One thought on “I thought I’d be able to talk to adults…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s