Mama Misses People

Yesterday afternoon, I was sitting on the back porch while Jeremy shared a story with me. He had his back to the door and couldn’t see Brodie behind him, who was placing sticky, three year old hands all over my freshly Windexed door. I made a quick motion for B to move his hands and before J could turn around, B had disappeared. J then looked at me, puzzled, and asked, “Who are you talking to?” and for a minute, I think he actually thought I had lost my damn mind. After I explained that B had been there just a second before, he said, “Oh, I thought you were talking to yourself in the reflection. I was going to suggest that you get out more.”

Oh, Hubby. If you only knew how much I needed to.

When I woke up this morning, after I changed Baby E and stuck a nipple in her mouth, I grabbed my iPhone and opened every social media app on it. At 6:30 am, however, there isn’t usually a whole lot happening and I found myself totally bummed. I realized that I was feeling isolated and would have given anything to read about someone’s traffic jam or spilled coffee or tantrum throwing toddler. I just wanted to interact with someone, anyone, out there in the ‘real world.’ It then occurred to me that, while social media is great, it is not, in fact, the ‘real world’ at all.  It was at that moment that the light bulb above my head turned on and I figured out that I miss people.  

Desperately.

I desperately miss people.

I miss grumpy customers and chatty co-workers. I miss talking to the hung-over guy at the bar at 7 am as he drones on and on about his latest love-gone-wrong. I miss reliving my youth through my 20 something friends at work with no kids and laughing about their biggest problems being things like where to spend spring break or who’s going to feed my cats while I’m in Vegas for the weekend. I miss talking to the Barista at the Starbucks next door about business or the crazy homeless lady who won’t leave our complex. I miss the old man at the counter who says totally inappropriate things but no one gets offended because, well, because he’s an old man and he tips well. I miss telling stories that take an hour because we’re talking in between running food and re-filling coffee. I miss my boss, with her, “So, you wanna hear my story…” which usually involves a trip to the ER with one of her kids or some crazy fight she’s had with her husband.

Yes, yes Amanda, I desperately want to hear your story.

I really do love being home with my kids. They’re entertaining and amazing and really very easy to get along with. But, there are only so many conversations I can have about Power Rangers. And it’s not that Jeremy isn’t great company, because he is. On the weekends, when we’re lying around watching random marathons on Netflix or hanging out in the backyard joking about how much therapy our kids are going to need later in life, I’m not lonely at all. But, Jeremy works long hours so that I can work short ones. During the week he’s up at 2:30 in the morning. He goes to bed early and the hours that he’s home are often spent cooking, doing dishes, hushing babies, brushing teeth, disciplining crazy kids and getting ready to do it all over again the next day.  

If I would have taken a normal maternity leave, I’m sure I would be in no rush to return to work but, the fact is, I’ve been off since February and I’m kinda starting to lose my mind. Add to that the fact that I’ve been at my restaurant for almost two years and it’s never really felt like work. I never really feel like I’m getting paid to be there but, rather, like I’m hanging out with a big, dysfunctional family and we happen to be sort of hospitable and serve strangers when they’re hungry.

I miss my dysfunctional family.

So, no offense Facebook and Instagram but, I’m kind of over you. I’m ready to have real conversations with real faces, faces that change with every silly story and grumpy customer. It’s not that profile pictures and status updates aren’t great but, I miss the voices that accompany, “So, this asshole…” and “Do you want to know what my husband had the nerve to say yesterday…” I want to be irritated with bad tippers and amused by whatever antics the cooks are up to. I’m ready for my feet to hurt from an eight hour shift, my apron to be full of cash and my belly to hurt from laughing.

I’m ready to go back to work.

July 12^th can’t come soon enough. And I don’t feel guilty about saying that. Mama misses people. And that’s okay.

Happy Thursday, Friends.

go. do. be.

On the eleventh day, God created Chaos

The eleventh day started at 6 am.

The hubby was long gone back to work but, thanks to my (almost) brand new coffee pot generously donated by my neighbor, Susan, the coffee was still hot.

THANK JESUS!

We had a cup of coffee, a feeding, a bath (Due to a blow-out. And for the record, after my third baby, I’m still slightly amazed how a newborn can poop up) another feeding, some lotion, some powder and a cute outfit (Duh).

By 7, it was time to get Logan up, in the shower, dressed, shoes, hair, teeth, pack a lunch, pack a backpack, pack a snack & a pillow for Movie Day and make sure he had two bandaids on his big toe so he wouldn’t scream his bloody head off. I had to dress and brush Brodie, too. He’s not in preschool right now so at least there was only one lunch to pack. Finding Brodie’s shoes, however, was a feat in and of itself and I may have screamed, “If you don’t find it, I’m leaving without you!” at least once.

I had to brush my own hair and teeth, find my own shoes, have another cup of coffee and stop for one more feeding. I’m sure if I wasn’t running a million miles an hour, Miss Elizabeth would have been fine but, I’m pretty positive newborns are born with a sensor that tells them when you are busy and it triggers some sort of, “OMG, MOM! I’m STARVING! Please stop what you are doing and feed me again before. I. die.” response.

And, of course, it was during this particular feeding that Brodie went poop and needed my help wiping. He’s such a big boy! And I’m so proud of him! (Confession of the day: Sometimes, I think diapers were easier than potty training)

By 8, I was loading car seats and kids into my car. It was the first time I’ve had all three in the car at the same time. Logan, thankfully, can buckle himself but Brodie and Elizabeth had to be loaded and buckled. (Insert sweating). The good news is, dropping Logan off at school by 8:10 means he can eat breakfast in the cafeteria.

God Love Public Schools.

After drop-off, we were down to two kids, which may sound easier but since I dropped off my main ‘helper’ at school, it really wasn’t because I had to make a stop at Walgreens. Brodie, who never found his shoes and insisted on wearing his Elmo slippers, had to walk like a big boy in the store and Elizabeth screamed through the whole trip.

We made it home by 8:45 and had another feeding. (Quietly chanting, breast is best, breast is best, breast is best…right?) I stalled Brodie long enough to get through the feeding, after which he demanded Dinosaur Chicken for breakfast.

Whatever.

Elizabeth went down for a nap, Brodie ate his chicken, I started a load of laundry (Four people make a lot of laundry, Five people make MORE laundry. Right. From. The. Start.) paid some bills, wiped down a counter or two, emptied some trash cans, fought some bad guys, read a book, put on Netflix…

And started another pot of coffee.

Here I sit, 10 am, ready for a nap, still grateful for my family of five, but a little more exhausted than I was on day four, when I had help during the morning hustle and bustle. I’m confident I’ll get better at it. I’m psyched there are only two more days of school left.

I’m positive newborn snuggles and three year old kisses and six year old hugs make it all worth it.

So, for those who have been asking, that’s pretty much what it’s like so far.

Three kids. Bam.  =) 

Happy Day Eleven, Friends.

go. do. be.