Tuesday, October 4, 2011

The Mamster

That's me. The Mamster. Mommy Hamster. At least that's how I feel lately.
Day in, day out. Run, run, run on my little hamster wheel.
Problem is, I never get anywhere.
And that, frankly, is exhausting, not to mention completely unfair.
Every time I clean up one mess another one appears.
For each piece of clothing I fold another one manages to make its way onto Mackenzie's head.
I can't put dinner plates away without her crawling into the dishwasher.
I can't put groceries away without her climbing into the fridge.
I often ask myself, What has happened to my life? I used to DO things. Now for every two steps forward, I take three steps back.
If I sound bitter it's because I am.

I've always been a multi-tasker. This December marks my tenth year as a news producer. My life for the past decade has revolved around deadlines and split-second decisions and no room for error. No time for do-overs. Now I feel like EVERYTHING is a do-over.
Five attempts at making the bed.
Eight tries at getting dressed.
Three painfully frustrating efforts to get Mackenzie cleaned, diapered and clothed.
I just can't do anything with normal person ease anymore. 
As soon as I try to brush my teeth I have to give Mackenzie HER toothbrush so she can suck all the fruity gel out of it. Then she insists on brushing Elmo's teeth.
Newsflash little girl! Elmo don't have no teeth.
Then she has to get a swipe of lip balm, because she has to do everything I do. This is cute and endearing for about five seconds. Then it's just annoying.
After lip balm, which Mackenzie needs to apply once on her own for good measure, I have the dreaded task of dressing someone who was destined to live as a nudist. If I dare turn my back for a moment to get clothes from the closet, Mackenzie has already removed her own diaper. As if that isn't enough she has a knack for running away from me as fast as a cheetah and enjoys urinating on furniture just to prove how much better life could be if she were always diaperless.
If I ever get the opportunity to dress MYSELF (imagine that) I usually have to pause with my pants around my ankles in order to pick up a crying Mackenzie who has fallen over because she's once again walking around in my heels (at least someone is getting use out of them).
When all is said and done I'm exhausted. And this all occurs before I even step foot out of the house.
As the day progresses things only get worse.
I stop to clean spilled milk and turn around to find Cheerios scattered under the coach. I whisk away the Cheerios only to discover that my knives are going to need to move up another drawer. I finish that and grab an apple, realizing it's been hours since I had any nourishment. Wait, where's Mackenzie? Oh, she's grabbing a beer from the bottom of the fridge.
Before I know it she's in the next room using her toy drum as a step stool to reach the window.
That can't be safe.
I'll hide the toy drum in the closet, until she figures out how to stack enough blocks or ride-along cars to reach it.
Crap, I turned my back again and now Mackenzie has managed to unplug the cordless phone from the wall. I'm pretty sure she just called 911.
That's all I need. The cops showing up at my house right now...
And this is how my day unfolds.
The Mamster keeps spinning the wheel, but the wheel slows significantly as the time passes. 
The Mamster is tired.  Oh, so tired.
Simple human activities become monumental feats.
You'd think I was building a pyramid.
A pyramid destined to remain unfinished.

1 comment:

  1. By the way, as a single mom, I think you SAHM have it harder. YOu need a break girl.
    But I do feel you on all of the above, Dylan likes to put make upon while I get ready. OHHH LORD.