Get a haircut and get a real job.

Some days I want to get up in the morning and go to work. Not like I do every morning, but get dressed, drop off my kids somewhere and go sit at a desk for a few hours. Sure, my life would be different, but would it be all that bad? I mean, right now I’m ignoring an all too-energetic Little Monster as he is “strapping me in” to some figment of his imagination, trying to climb into my lap while discussing robots, yelling at the dog, eating a waffle, trying to steal a sip of my juice and “helping” me on the computer. Yes, he can do all of that at the same time. My newborn is laying next to me in her pack n play punching the air and making faces into a mirror and grunting as she tries to figure out this new thing called pooping.

Today is, in fact, a day when I am thinking about all of those moms who go to work, and eat meals without interruption, sharing with their toddlers or nursing at the same time. Mostly because I had already yelled at Little Monster about forty times before ten this morning. So far today, I’ve only sprouted 13 new grey hairs, and I haven’t pulled any out. It’s still early.

I still work. I mean, I do all of the stuff I’d still have to do if I had a job (laundry, making dinner, cleaning, groceries, etc.) I think I might actually do more of that since I’m home. Maybe. And I still do some of the stuff I used to do at work, only I’m blessed enough to be able to do it from home. I’m sure my clients enjoy hearing dialogue from a 2 ½ year old while they are trying to explain what color they want their ID badge to be. I mean, who wouldn’t find it distracting to hear him in the background? It’s nothing short of a miracle that I can hear anything over his side of the conversation:

Mommy! ME WANT Orange marmalade. No. White butter on toast. Me want Orange Juice. Me no want milk. Please Mommy, me want orange juice. Mommy, me sit in yours lap. Mom, me want cereal mommy. Me want cereal. Me want cereal mommy. Mommy. Me watch Super Why? Me watch super why!!! Mommy, we have chocolate? Me have one? TWEEEEEEEEEEESE! MOOOOooom. ME WANT Chocolate! No, No go potty in toilet. Me Mommy baby. Nope. I big boy baby. I no go potty no toilet. Me see potty train? Me go school? School? In school bus? School bus yellow mom? Mom! Mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, MOMMy! Talk to me Mommy. Talk to me. Mom, Look Mom. The sun up? The sun up mom. The sun shining in the window. Me walking on the sun mom. Look Mom! Mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, mom. Me have this backpack. (grunting sounds as he puts on imaginary backpack loaded down with who only knows what). Singing. Me have baaa-aaack paaa-aaack. WHOOOOOO!!!!!! Me have back pack me have back pack me have back pack. Me want cookies mom. I have make cookies, mommy? I help make cookies. Moooo OOOM. I want make cookies.Me have spiderman snack? Mommy? Me go park? Me need sunblock. NO get sunburn. Get my dirt out mom. Dirt out my fingernails. Do thumb mom. Do dis finger. Do this mommy. Mommy. Moooooom, do this. Do this, yes, dirt under there. This finger mom. Mommy, look! I wear yours sunglasses. Mommy where’s mine hat? Mom. Look! Me find a chocolates! One chocolate a you, and one a me. We have them? We eat them? Thank you mommy. Eat that. Eat that. Eat that MOM! Eat THAT! Turn on TV in living room? Tweese Mommy? TV in living room? I don’t want watch TV in mine room, I want watch TV in living room. Living room living room living living living room. MOM, I’m going up the elevator! Up the elevator mom. I get the clock.


All the while he’s climbing on me, helping me type, trying to wake up his little sister, who I’ve FINALLY successfully gotten back to sleep after an hour of crying because of who knows why. (And no, that is NOT an exaggeration -- that is the actuality of our household while he is awake, or not watching Calliou. If anything, it is downplayed, because that is only about thirty seconds worth of dialogue. Not the Momma should confirm that fact.)

I’m pretty sure none of that would happen in an office environment. I guess I could have a coworker like that, but I doubt it. I’m also pretty sure the majority of my coworkers would be potty trained and wouldn’t demand diaper changes. I doubt that I’d ever hear that terrible sound of water splashing onto carpet only to realize that it’s really my 2 ½ year old who has removed his diaper in anticipation of getting dressed to go to the park and is now only BARELY missing my desktop with his stream. I probably wouldn’t have to remind a coworker that they should do that in the toilet. And I’m DARN certain that after sending them to the bathroom to finish what they started, I wouldn’t hear “Yay! I did It!” the toilet flushing, and then witness them running around naked with poop sticking out from between their cheeks where they failed to wipe. I’m pretty sure I’d file a lawsuit if my employer expected me to wipe any of my coworkers butts after such an incident.

At least if I was in an office I wouldn’t have to look at the disaster that is my house. The disaster that less than 24 hours ago was at least reasonably clean. The disaster that I only dug out yesterday.

However, in an office I wouldn’t get to watch my Little Monster play with the pretend toys he makes up all day. Who knows why I even purchase toys for that kid, he doesn’t play with them. He plays with the air more than anything else. I wouldn’t get to hear the dialogue that accompanies this pretend play, and I certainly wouldn’t get to participate in it. And, we all know that if I worked in an office it would require that I drop Butterball off, and that would be heart wrenching. Especially considering she hasn’t been out of my sight for longer than an hour since she’s been born. I’d miss her terribly.

Yeah, some days I want to quit this 24/7 job and trade it in for a 9 to 5. But, then I regain (or is it really losing?) my sanity as Little Monster lectures me about not touching scissors because they will hurt me. And then he gets on his hands and knees, barks, climbs into my lap while panting and demands that I throw an imaginary bone for him to play fetch with – all while I nurse his baby sister, answer the phone and try to create another ID card design for another client. This is the life.

Well, as long as no one is barfing.