Challenges of Motherhood

Just another day - same old-same old

Today was just another day of the same old-same old, Southern Hot Mess style. You can’t understand the depth of the challenges of motherhood until you are waist-deep, trudging through it, like sludge in a forsaken jungle. Man-oh-man was today ever a challenge!

My day started at 7, and almost 14 hours later, it’s still going strong. I really wonder if other SAHMs deal with the same stuff on a daily basis, or if the universe just has it out for me. Honestly, if every SAHM lived like this, I honestly believe, there would be less children on the earth, and more women would be either jailed or institutionalized.

I am barely hanging on, and I’ve got 6 more weeks of summer. I am beginning to fear for my life. My sanity is unraveling, my grip on reality is slipping, and my resting heart rate teeters around 100 (normal range is 61 – 79), so there is a serious possibility I may stroke-out at any time. I should probably write my will, but I’d much rather just blog about it to you.

Home of Southern Hot Mess, 7:00 AM, Friday, July 10

7:00 – I’m awake. Boo should be coming home soon. Turn on my Chromebox, but stare blankly at it, while sitting in front of the window, waiting for Boo to appear.

7:40 – Ex e-mails that he is going to keep Boo for the day. That’s just . . . so typical. Reply “Thanks for letting me know so I could sleep in.”

7:43 – Make coffee. Stand over it, expecting my glare will actually cause it to brew faster, sensing imminent doom.

7:45 – Miss a call from Ex while fixing my coffee.

7:46 – Text from Ex that reads, “He changed his mind and wants to come home. Will bring him by later.

7:59 – I spray water in Hub’s face to get him out of bed, then return to stare blankly at my monitor and drink my coffee. Wait. Where is my coffee? Mad dash through the house to locate said coffee. Pop a Ritalin. Return to my desk.

8:34 – Diva wakes.

8:35 – Hub escapes to his office.

8:49 – Boo arrives

8:50 – Rampant jealousy ensues

9:10 – Coffee kicks in

9:38 – I enter the breakfast nook where they are sitting nicely, eating pepperoni, donuts, and chocolate milk – sounds legit. Why eat bacon that I had fried when there is a bag of pepperoni?

I realize now that entering their feeding lair was my first mistake of the day. I was immediately bombarded.


“Diva told me to shut up, Mom!”

“Boo spanked my di-pey, Mommy!”

“How many sodas do we have left, Mom?”

“I eating ‘macaroni’ Mommy. No want donuts. Thank you for my nummies. Amen.”

“What are we going to do today, Mom?”

“I paint. I paint right now, Mommy. Paaaaaaaiiinntttt. Riiiiiiiiiiiight. NOW!”

“Hey, can we plant the tomatoes today, Mom?”

“I no want chock-it milk, Mommy. I want my apple juice. Now, Mommy.”

“Can I have that soda, Mom?”

“Change my di-pey, please.”

“Will you get my phone, Mom?”

The orders were barked at me one right after the other. It was like two rapid-fire machine guns. I growled at them, knowing they wouldn’t hear any words I uttered, anyway. They just laughed. That’s about the time I snapped.

I have one body. Two arms. How the hell am I supposed to be in 3 rooms, doing 12 tasks simultaneously? I ask you? Seriously? What are these two thinking? ADHD says I can do it all, simultaneously, in all three rooms at once – no problem. My OCD says I MUST do all 12 things, in all three separate rooms simultaneously, meticulously, instantaneously, and immediately. I pause briefly, because at this precise moment I am unsure of whether I should try to run away, hide, start crying, or just scream. *Sigh* Screaming won.

I put the paint page, water, and brush in front of Diva, then hauled out the tomato garden kit for Boo. Suddenly, she no longer wanted to paint. Boo started to fuss. I cut my eyes at him, and he stopped before he got started.

{The eye-cutting seems to be a common superpower among mothers. Thank God we have that.}

The power struggle for my attention reached a ridiculous level on the scale of eternal sibling rivalry. This garbage is unending, unnerving, and unrelenting – not to mention completely exhausting.

I rush like hell is nipping at my heels through the entire planting kit directions, both kids squabbling over who gets to help with what. I ended up with seeds left over. That’s it. These mongrels are getting out of this house right now!! I announce to them it’s time to go in the backyard.

We are all dressed, after Diva put both legs in one pant leg, and insisted on wearing a skort as a shirt, we shared a brief power struggle before I stripped her down, put on her clothing and shoes correctly, and we head out.

What could possibly go wrong?

I sloppily plant the remaining tomato seeds, sprinkle some potting soil on top, and let Boo handle the watering. Boo is seen (by Diva) assisting me. Diva begins playing loudly with her toys, and stirs through the yard, picking her moment. She decides all of her toys need to be set around my feet as I begin pulling weeds, once again, with the aid of Boo. Diva shoots herself in the face with the water hose, but thankfully the nozzle was set to ‘shower’, and not ‘jet’. Boo continues (being seen by Diva) “helping” me, once he gets the hose away from her.

Diva then demands that I get her Barbie Jeep. Right. Now. So, I get the damn thing, look up at Boo, to see what plant he is drowning at this point, hit her with a front wheel, as she was under my feet and out of my field of vision (since I’m still carrying a friggin’ kid’s car across the yard!), and while I’m tending to her, I set it down on the bridge of my foot.

Ah, Diva is fine. The hose is on the patio. Jeep is ready to go. Boo and I are set to finish clearing the weeds from where I’m about to drop some flower seeds. As I’m eyeing the perfect spot, I can hear soft grumbles on the patio. I look up just as a battle for the hose erupts. We are done here. “Jog on,” as they say.

It just keeps getting better

10:33 – We are done here, and moving back into the house.

10:36 – It has become obvious it is time to go to the splash park. Let’s get our swim suits on. Again, how difficult can it be? Boo gets changed, I change, I change Diva, grab dry clothes, toss everything in waterproof bag, spray down the kids with sunblock, throw beach towels in the trunk, and we’ll be off in 15 minutes.

11:36 – We are now ready to get in the car. Yes! It took us an entire hour to get ready. No joke. Each child fought me, or they fought each other the whole hour.

*Switching to PM*

12:30 – Diva announces it is time to go home. Naturally Boo runs away from me, half hiding at time, always remaining safely out of arm’s reach, and skipping between the splash park and the play park.

12:45 – Pull into McDonald’s, and while we are in the drive-thru, I give explicit instructions on how things will proceed once we are home. Sit at the table. I’ll get the food out. While they eat, I will change my clothes, and they get their happy meal toys AFTER we all three finish eating. Yeah, that didn’t happen. I’ll spare you the details.

That’s a bitch.

Hot mess

Run, hide, cry, or scream? You guessed it. Screaming wins, again. Everyone changed, while eating at the table, because ya know, that’s how we were rolling today. Diva fought sleep for 2 hours before I gave in and laid down beside her. I say ‘gave in’, because really, that’s what she wanted. She did not, however, want to relinquish her beloved tablet. That’s a bitch. She pouted, fidgeted, hummed, you name it for half an hour. By the time she finally went to sleep, I was going to be getting her up in an hour (or less), so I could get Boo back to his dad’s for the weekend.

As the time approached for me to wake the little hellcat, my heart began to race, my mind in a full-on panic, and I start to shut down. “I just can’t” I thought to myself. So, I had no choice but to ask the Ex for more time to get Boo back. That would get her close to a full hour and a half of sleep.

Those minutes zipped by like nanoseconds, and my palms began sweating. My stomach knotted, and my butt clenched as I heard the timer ring. I thought I was going to throw up.

I Mommed-Up! Woke Diva, slapped a dress over her head, grabbed my wallet, keys, Boo’s tablet, shoved my phone in my bra, slung Diva on my hip, and we were out the door. Dropped him off, picked up more Ritalin, and texted Hubs as soon as we hit the back door. His choice – either I order takeout, or he can grab something on the way home.

Diva and I both anxiously wait for Hub to get home with dinner, about an hour away . . . which will be an hour past Diva’s dinner time. At this point I am broken beyond repair; Hope is lost. There is no scream left. No energy to cry, much less run, and clearly lacking the mental capacity to find anywhere to hide.

Then The Bottom Falls Out

Diva is starving, and asks for milk. The last time I had enough time to do the dishes was Wednesday, when the helper was here. I tell her we are out of cups, but she can have her apple juice that I put in the fridge in her sippy/straw cup. NOT the answer she was looking for.

“Well, you have to stay in here, not under my feet, no toys under my feet, and no screaming at me, and no throwing ANYTHING so I can wash one cup for you. Deal?” I asked.

“Okay, Mommy.”

It all sounded like a good plan. Only problem. You know how I mentioned I hadn’t done dishes in a few days. Well, I couldn’t get to the sink to wash a cup. So, I’m rinsing dishes as fast as I can to stack them here and there around the counter, and I notice the sink is filling up. You got it; Sink is clogged. Yeah, baby, the hits just keep on coming! Expletives are flying through my tiny brain in all caps, bold, and underlined right about this time.

Oh, a dish was broken, and blocking the drain. Of course.

No, it gets better. After Diva ate her dinner, stating she was “too full to eat the rest,” she decided that she needed a cupcake. Turns out she was too full to eat it, so she just licked the icing off. That made for some cute faces. At least it was cute until she broke out in a red rash everywhere the icing touched her face. I gave her Benedryl just before 8, and it’s approaching midnight, and she is still awake, watching YouTube Kids while Hub is *cough*sleeping*cough* watching her, while I unload my pack of crazy on ya’ll.

Does everybody have days like this? I mean every. single. day?

I’m about to get my drank on . . .

Hot Mess

I’ve been rolling with the punches now for 17 hours. Hub is snoring, Diva’s tablet is playing random YouTube Kids videos, while she is silent, indicating she, too is asleep. I’m about to get my drank on, because really, today was yet another typical day in my life, but it is really starting to get to me. Call my shrink if I start twitching, will ya?

Get your happy. Life is short, and at this rate, mine is gonna be even shorter. These kids really are gonna kill me. When I tell them I’d die for them, I wasn’t really expecting I actually would. I just have no words.

Peace ya’ll.

About me

Ever wonder what it’s like to be a southern hot mess? Join me as I slam through life like a bull in a china shop. It’s better if you just go with it.


July 22, 2017
Found My Zen
July 22, 2017
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Oh, and bacon!
June 04, 2017
Zero Control
May 31, 2017
OCD southern hot mess
What I don’t say
May 24, 2017
No words for the last seven days
May 20, 2017
Southern hot mess
Third Row Problem
April 10, 2017
Some wounds don’t heal
March 14, 2017
I love my friends
November 03, 2016

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