That SAHM life

I began my stay at home mom journey when my oldest was 2 1/2 and I was days away from having our now middle child. Previously, I had taught seventeen 5 year olds so staying at home with my own seemed like it would be a breeze. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Here is a peek into my SAHM life.

My human alarm wakes me and I drag myself out of bed before his cries wake his 5 year-old roommate. After noticing I am still on display from the last nursing sesh, I muster up the energy to clip my hole-worn nursing tank back up, and greet the youngest. I realize I have yet again failed at another endeavor to night wean, but I tell myself that tonight is the night. Maybe.

I console the crabby tears of the 15 month-old with a graham cracker in each hand, while I aim to start coffee, but not before I hear the noises of the middle waking. She makes the call of her people with an obnoxious, blaring moan until I am within sight and then declares to me “I don’t want to wake up.” So precious. I leave her to grumble to wake the oldest.

I tear open the blinds, use my nice mommy-morning voice and announce to the best sleeper in the house (God bless him) that it is time to wake up. No movement. I give a gentle nudge and repeat “we’ve gotta get up so we can get you to school.” I get half of an eye open and a slight head nod. Progress.

Dad is up and moving at this point so now is my chance to head for the shower. Not 30 seconds in and I’m joined by the youngest who is going in head first, diaper on. Privacy anyone?

With a team effort and a granola bar breakfast thrown at the oldest, we are ready to head out the door. But not so fast… It is poop thirty for the youngest. Every. Single. Morning.

We walk to school (parking lot equals nightmare), and afterward, make a mad dash for home to drive to the middle’s preschool. I drop her off and now I am striving to keep the youngest awake but those eyes are droopy, after all it was a tough night being up every 2 hours. Every object in the car has been thrown into his carseat to keep him awake. FAIL. Morning car nap it is. At least Starbucks has a drive thru.

Soon enough it is time for preschool pick-up and lunchtime. The youngest is HANGRY at this point and is latching on at my ankles. I fend him off with a veggie straw and make mac ‘n cheese for the second, er, maybe third day in a row? It is a different variation of cheese than yesterday AND it’s organic. Win-win.

Lunch is concluded and the middle reminds me I promised a trip to the library to look for “pin-cess” books. If we go fast, we can avoid another car-induced nap from the youngest. We conquer the library but not before checking out far too many scratched DVDs of shows we could watch on Netflix and a bag full of books weighing more than our labrador.

I tell the middle to use her loud, lovely singing skills to keep the youngest awake in the car. She needs inspiration, so we blare Now That’s What I Call Music: Princess Edition and get all the looks at the stop light (I can’t NOT sing along) and the youngest makes it home awake. (Insert applause and me bowing here.)

Before we know it, it is time to wake the sleeping youngest and pick-up the oldest from school. After peeling them all off of the school playground we make it home and realize I haven’t even given a thought to dinner. Spaghetti it is. Dad is home just in time to aid in herding children out of the kitchen and in feeding the gremlins. Teamwork.
Bedtime. Sweet, sweet bedtime. Where mom and dad put on a dog and pony show for the sake of peace and quiet. Books, songs, prayers, stories, jokes, 20 questions from the oldest (who is the EXPERT staler). When suddenly their parched palates NEED one more drink. Once one is down (or even two) another one pipes up with another request. I consider climbing the stairs my cardio and I always get my workout in.

Then suddenly, it is silent. It may be the first time all day I have sat- at least without a small body filling my lap. The day was packed. It was non-stop. It was exhausting. Yet… It was joyful. It was full of giggles, and dancing and cuddles. My body is spent. My mind even more. But my heart, oh my heart is so full. And I get to do it all again tomorrow. This is the life.

Erika
Erika resides in Midtown Omaha with her husband Chris and their three kids, Macklin, Everly and Henrik. She has a background in early childhood education and child development. She enjoys long walks down target isles, eating raw cookie dough out of the fridge, attempting to craft, and embracing the chaos of motherhood.

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