A New Day?

If you click on over to my About Me section, you will be able to read 50 Things About Me. I wrote it one day when I was bored...I won't go into where exactly I was at the time.

So I was reading them last night, wondering if I needed to update them, and I got to the last one.

#50. I really, really want to be a stay-at-home mom.

Hmm.

This is an interesting one. Considering I was looking at these to see if I needed to change them, I am at a crossroads.

Every day is harder than the last. The weather is getting cooler, but I don't even notice because I hardly go outside.

Samantha has taken to emptying every cabinet and drawer and wipe container that we have. She likes to throw her diapers all over the room. And I am tired of picking up after her...worse yet, I am tired of trying to get her to pick up after herself.

She also has decided that she doesn't like to wear a diaper. And she knows how to take them off. She did this last night in bed, after taking off her pajamas, and peed in the bed. Luckily I decided to check on her, otherwise I would've had a much larger mess on my hands this morning.

Speaking of this morning, it came pretty fast, considering Sam slept with us for only the second time ever last night. After the first time, I swore there would NOT be a second time. Once she fell asleep, it went OK, until she got up 2 hours earlier than usual.

I am ALL about trying to get Charlie on a routine, but she isn't cooperating. And my immediate goal for the routine to succeed is getting Charlie to sleep through the night, or at least through one of the night feedings. So far it isn't working.

Workaholic has been crazy super busy lately. So he hasn't had time to install things like baby gates or cabinet locks, things that I didn't care if I had until I stayed home. All day. With a toddler. Who has a ton of toys but refuses to play with any of them.

I've started to romanticize my job, and fantasize about someone else raising my kids. (I'm talking daycare here.) When I was working, I felt so guilty that someone else was doing my job by raising my kids. But now I wonder if I can even do it. Just trying to figure out what to serve for lunch, and how I am going to do it with a baby who generally chooses to scream at lunchtime, is a struggle.

And while I was writing this, my 20 month old stood 10 feet from me, took off her diaper, pooped on the floor, and clogged a Toto toilet with who-knows-what. (Toto claims you can flush a tennis ball down their toilets.)

The thing is, I know that I have it much better than many people. Many people don't have family or friends around to help them. Many people don't have the money to put food on the table, much less deciding what to cook. Hell, many people don't even have a roof over their heads. Knowing this just makes me feel worse. Because I am struggling, but I feel like I shouldn't be. I have the exact same problems as millions of other people out there. Knowing that doesn't help. Believe you me, I wish it did.