I had expressed some interest in seeing what our local gym had to offer. Remember how I knocked it? Everyone said the classes are where it's at. And this gym, in particular, apparently has a great kids club---thus allowing you to really concentrate on your work out (instead of my normal exercise in the family room with kids climbing on top of me, asking me to grab their drinks, etc.).
I have been planning for the last week and a half that today, Monday, Nov. 29th would be my start up day. I have to gear up for these things, b/c I rarely like to leave the house with both kids. Yes, I do realize that Calvin isn't a newborn anymore, but leaving the house still gives me anxiety. Life is so much easier at home.
Anyway, I got up early (thanks to Matilda), I had the class time I wanted to attend all figured out. Fed Tillie. Got her dressed in her new Christmas shirt from Nana 'Nise. Cal woke up. Changed him. Fed him a ton of cereal (he seemed really hungry). Got Cal dressed in his new shirt from Nana. Feeling good. Ahead of schedule. Awesome. Gave myself a mental pat on the back.
This is when it started unraveling. Doesn't life ALWAYS go awry when you give yourself mental pats on the back? I should have known...
We couldn't find Tillie's water-bottle (aka her security blanket---p.s. these really are great bottles, more on them later). I was getting frustrated and she started crying. Calvin was sobbing b/c he wanted me to hold him as we were frantically running around the house looking for the blasted Ariel water-bottle (we have about a 6 other ones, but she "needed" Ariel today). Finally, I decided that it was ridiculous spending the time looking for Ariel, and I should just grab her a new one. So, I decided to get them both in their car-seats while I grabbed the replacement bottle. Tillie was adamant that she didn't want to wear her Crocs... She actually wanted her boots or sandals. Knowing that the sandals require more effort to do the little straps and that her boots meant socks (which she always takes off), I was refusing her requests. Honestly, I had no idea 2 year olds had such opinions! I had just finished strapping Cal in his car-seat, as I was telling her to "get the Crocs and get in the car... now!"
Then Cal throws up. A ton. Remember all that rice-fruit-cereal he had eaten minutes before? Oh yes. All over. I mean, ALL over. Poor baby starts bawling. I'm like a frantic deer caught in a headlight. What to do? What to do? So, I dash inside to grab some rags and I tell Tillie to take off her Crocs (which she had finally just put on) and that we were staying home. Thus making Tillie start howling as she throws her body to the floor saying, "No, I want to go bye-bye NOW! Bye-bye now!" I run out to the car to rescue groddy Calvin. It's everywhere. I strip him down to his diaper, wipe him off, and take him inside with Tillie. She had calmed down and decided to pull out every toy we own (well, almost every toy we own). Cal seemed content to play as I made my way back to the stinky mess in the garage.
Let me say this. I love that car-seats make it possible to travel with a baby in the car. Two cheers for that. But, I hate how ridiculously complicated they are to figure out! Why it is SO impossible to take off the car-seat covers is BEYOND me. I was frustrated before, but during the car-seat-cover-take-off-episode, I was FUMING. Honestly, it was a JOKE trying to figure out how to get the blasted straps out, and undoing all the little elastic bands. I kept debating whether or not to grab the scissors and just cut the dang thing off. I did, after all, get it from Costco. They'd do a return, right? All the while, the smell. Oh the smell...
FINALLY, after about 10 minutes (literally) I got the darn thing off. I chucked it in the washing machine on the "Super Heavy Duty cycle" with a ton of OxyClean, detergent, and hot water (watch, it's going to shrink now). And then realized I needed to get inside STAT to check on the kids.
They toys were strewn about (as always), but the kids weren't in the front room. I heard Tillie in the bathroom saying, "Mooooooom! I need a bath! I need a bath!" Lovely. She's either pooped or peed in her pants I realized as I was frantically searching for Calvin. Poor baby. I found him in my room (which was left open from our water-bottle search). He had pulled himself up and was standing next my bed---sobbing. Oh my. So sad. He couldn't find me so he thought to come look for me in my bedroom? (I put the question mark, b/c I'm never hiding out in my bedroom. poor baby.)
I swooped him up and tried to comfort him as I made the way across to Tillie.
I could tell as soon as I rounded the corner. Poop in the pants. Awesome.
I set down Calvin, who started sobbing again, as I cleaned up the little Miss. Honestly, that girl. She kept saying, "let's just get in the bath. It's okay, I'll take a bath." She had peed her pants in the night (even though she assured us she was ready to put her big girl panties back on). I had just washed her sheets and mattress pad. I was in no mood to do this again. So, I decided to put a BABY DIAPER on her. Oh, the agony. She was devastated, but it was all I could think of at the moment to teach her...
So, we're not going to the gym today.
Plus, who knows if Calvin is going to have a functioning car-seat after the number I did on it this morning. Its going to take a miracle to put that cover back on.
Luckily, all is well, now. After we were all cleaned up, and the washing machine was going---with both kids glued to me, we decided to read some books to help calm myself and both kids down. That seemed to work. Calvin got so tired that he was happy when I put him in his crib to take a nap. Tillie and I cleaned up her toys (happily) so I rewarded her with letting her watch Mulan. Sue me. I'm that mom.
And, I am here retelling the tale that almost did me in.
So, moral of the story: Sometimes the "plan" fails. Sometimes things like car-seat covers make us want to swear like sailors. Sometimes you humiliate your kids. Sometimes you get really messy and stinky caring for children. And sometimes you try going leaving the house and realize it's just not worth it.
But, in the end, you realize how insignificant our little traumas are.
There are much bigger problems in the world. We are okay. We are healthy and safe. And, luckily, little kids forgive easily.
And *maybe* tomorrow, we make a new plan and try again.