When most people envision their future they dream that their life will be that of momentous joy. I had my big wedding planned by the time I hit grade four...and in detail. I could picture the dress I would be wearing. The abundent amount of flowers so fresh and bright that you could smell them even if for right now they were just a plan floating in the daydreams of my head while my teacher garbled on about the differences between mitotsis and mieosis (which is why I couldn't even begin to tell you what etheir of those things mean). I pictured my future husband, with rays of light sparkling off his face that I couldn't quite make out but could assume he bared some relation to prince charming in the looks department. Then comes the house. I had seen it many times before, most likely a vision I picked out from Cinderella or some romantic movie that has a happily ever after. White with a black roof and dark window shutters to match, a huge front porch with white columns all the way across. Lush green hedges trimmed in neat rows with clean edges and matching flowers decorate the gardens arond the house. Inside the ceilings would be high. The marble floors so white and clean I could see my reflection. A curverd staircase with a dark coloured wood railing. In my head I had watched myself walk up that staircase 100 times. I always turned and looked back down and smiled. I always wore the same outfit. It was light in colour and neatly pressed. Some sort of dressy outfit that a preson of high class would wear to a lady's luncheon. As if to say... one day this will be you. Sounded perfect. I remember in the hallway by the stairs there was a laundry shoot. Now I understand the laundry shoot sticks out like a sore thumb perhaps... especially when I pictured it as a heavy metal door .. but I was young and naive. I thought having a laundry shoot would somehow make me a more effective house wife . Looking back it could have been a forshadowing to the fact that doing landry would be a bigger part of my daily existence than I ever wished it to be. But there were better things to daydream about than laundry shoots...
Babies would be a welcome blessing in our family. Thoughts of me and my husband, (although I still couldn't make out his face...hmmm) traveling with a posh diaper bag and a laughing toddler, and a pregnant belly.
The sun is shining the weather is warm and we have a gleaming white smile on both of our faces. We walk over to our shiny car......
FLASH FORWARD TO REALITY.
Lunch is boiling over on the stove while I attempt to sort out a toy discrepancy over who had the Potatoe Head first. Crocodile tears and a cry like a four fire alarm ring out two feet away from me. From the toddler who pinched his finger in the toy box. I lovingly refer to him as the "Fire truck". Poor babe, I loose focus on the potatoe head situation and concentrate on the itty bitty finger.... STOVE.... ACK!! Toddler on hip we bounce up the stairs to the kitchen. Setting him down on the chair he watches me as in one swift manouever I grab an ice pack from the freezer door with one hand and with the other hand turn the heat off on the stove. To the toddler I go, ice pack in hand. His cheeks are red and face stained with tears.. *suddenly my foot slips out from under me and I am falling backwards looking at the ceiling and put my elbows out to break my fall* OWWWWWWWWWWWW(My elbows are no big fan of tile floor let me tell you...)
I hear laughter... high pitched delighted laughter.. to the tune of a .. FOUR FIRE ALARM!!!
"Sarba!!" Say's the suddenly delighted voice in between sqeals of joy, "You swip on da Wego Block!"
*Thankyou Captain obvious...* And so it was a Lego Block... strange I don't recall seeing it there a minute ago...
I forget the throbbing in both of my elbows and laughter that has bruised my pride and lift up the itty bitty finger. Looks fine. "Does it hurt???" I ask.
"Nope... I POOPED!!!"
Awesome.
**A short time later**
I am sweeping remnents of today's lunch off the floor, I have melted cheese in my hair which could really use a hair cut and a colour. (hmmm... maybe just a cut... hair colour is not in the budget...)
* I smell POOP!!!*
Didn't I change change a poopy diaper like 5 minutes ago?? The repeating sounds of Raffi are about to make my cranim explode all over this nice clean floor I just swept...
*Diaper changed*
Now enter toy room : An atomic bomb has clearly expoloded in less than the 4 minutes it took me to sweep the floor and change the impressivly stenchy diaper. How did I not hear it go off??? I make an announcement using my I mean buisness voice. "Clean up time everyone!!!". (Everyone is 6 children between the ages of 18 months to 41/2 years old.. DON'T PANIC... they aren't all mine. Just one. The oldest of the bunch. (I will introcuce you soon enough.)
Most days they are very eager to assist in doing their share to help. Not TODAY!!!
Suddenly I am bombarded with:
"I didn't make ANY of the mess"... "I'M NOT DONE PLAYING!!!"... "I'mmmm HUNGWWWY!!!" .... "SHE knocked over MY lego tower!!!!".... "No I DIDN'T"... "I CAN'T find my udder sock!!" .. "I DON'T WANT TO CWEAN UP!!!" "He's NOT sharing wiff ME!!!" ...... .......................................
"I POOPED!!!!"
Have you ever been cornered by 6 childish looking Oompa Loompas in a matter of seconds while they scream their pleas at you simultaneously claiming theirs is more imporant. This leads to the Oompa Loompa's frustration being lashed out in a war of volume and face time. They lurch closer while their voices screech louder and louder until it becomes a mashed mess of words that are no longer audilble and just plain.. well... annoying...
It's days like these I wished I could win the lottery.
It's days like these that I wish my fiancee (that's right we had a child out of wedlock... so sue me) didn't work an hour away. It's days like these I wish I had an adult to speak to during they day just to gain some sanity back.
For a split second my mind wanders back to the white house with the black roof... I can almost smell the flowers they are so close... but the screeching voices halt my visions.. and suddenly...all I can smell is.. Poop.
I am a daycare mom..... welcome to my life.
