Tuesday, November 20, 2007

How Do You Fill Your Days?

As Ellie and I were finishing up lunch, Ada woke up. I went to pick her up, and the phone rang. I took the phone with me and carried Ada back to change her diaper while talking to my mother. Then I sat Ada in her highchair, washed my hands, and got her some lunch. She wasn't too into eating; she's not feeling well today. I got her to have a sip of juice and a couple of bites of pureed oatmeal with pear.

While I was trying to make an appointment get Ellie's hair trimmed, Ada threw up all over herself and her tray. I got her cleaned up and into the bath. Ellie came along to "help." While I was dressing Ada after her bath, Ellie opened the refrigerator and got a fresh container of Quaker Old Fashioned Oats, and spilled the entire thing on the kitchen floor. I sat Ada down and swept that up. As I was finishing, I heard Ellie calling for help from the master bathroom.

Apparently, she and The (stuffed) Cat in the Hat needed to potty. Both were, apparently, successful. By this time, I'm a little pissed. I deposit Cat in a plastic bag to go downstairs to the washing machine, and I hear suspicious splashing. Ada has crawled into the hall bathroom (door opened compliments of her big sister) and is happily splashing her hands in the toilet. I wash Ada's hands and shut the bathroom door, then leave her to push her Radio Flyer wagon while going back to Clorox wipe the master bathroom floor after The Cat in the Hat's drippage. Big sister is having an extended session on the potty.

Ada's quiet, so I go back to check on her: she's fine, but the bed of the wagon is holding some sort of clear fluid. I clean this up with a cloth diaper and a Lysol wipe, then carry Ada back to sit with Ellie and me. Ellie's still on the pot, and saying, "Finish potty! Finish potty!" (This means: I need to finish going potty; don't rush me!) And Ada's rubbing her eyes, so I snuggle her and put her down in her crib. When I walk back into my room, I find that Ellie has decided to follow me to see where I was going with Ada. She did not wipe first.

By this time, I'm emitting a quiet but piercing noise, and Ellie's saying, "Mommy, no screaming!" I clean her up, the clean up the toilet, potty seat, and carpet just outside the bathroom while Ellie washes her hands for about 5 minutes. Then I wash my hands of the whole affair, both literally and figuratively.

As I've typed this, Ellie has put herself down for her nap (smart girl!) and Ada has fallen asleep too. I need to take a shower, then wake the two of them so that I can take Ada to the doctor to get the verdict on whether or not it's OK for us to travel tomorrow, to my parents' house for Thanksgiving.

Somehow this afternoon, I need to find time to get Ellie's hair cut, and then we are having an early dinner with friends, to meet her family who are in from out of town for the holiday.

Then Paul's got an evening meeting at church, and I'll come home to get the girls to bed, do laundry, pack, bake 4 loaves of quick bread (2 banana, 2 pumpkin), and write 2000 words.

No pressure. I'm sure glad I quit my job to live this life of leisure. For the record, the first part of that sentence is true.


Orange said...

I always love stories like these, which should be captured on videotape and used as teenage contraception. Ah, the hapless indignities of parenthood!

Good for you for screaming only quietly. You're more together than I am!

Skip the haircut, trim her bangs yourself if need be. And consider swinging by a bakery for some really-not-so-quick breads. Wrap 'em in foil and no one will be the wiser.

Jessica said...

Wow, Sarahlynn, your "fictional" writing ability is really developing....that was so realistic that I could nearly "see" it happening and practically feel the conveyed emotions as I read but then I remembered the precious little Ada and Ellie I know and shook my head in disbelief.

Nice try! ;-)

flatflo said...

Wow, I'm exhausted just reading this! I'm guessing that a parent's patience is one of those things that grows with their baby, like their arm muscles!
Happy Thanksgiving, supermom!

Sarahlynn said...

Orange, if I tried to trim her bangs, I'm pretty sure that I'd poke her eye out. We compromised on the breads: Paul made them from a mix while I wrote.

Jessica, I might just drop a couple of fictional girls off on your doorstep one afternoon! :)

Laura, if so, I think my growth is stunted!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Jessica said...

Hah! I'd take 'em in a heartbeat. When they aren't "yours", anything they do that would typically be classified as mischievous or difficult instantly becomes adorable. :)

I was thinking about you guys and whether or not you were able to make your trip when I just read your most recent blog post. I'm home the next few days - please let me know if I can bring some soup by (not homemade, of course) or anything else.