The Struggle is Real

                       
Yesterday was a great day. I cleaned the house from top to bottom, watched a movie with the kids, had a nice dinner, went to the gym, and spent the evening playing Phase 10 with the family. We had a great time. The kids were happy, we were making jokes, we had ice cream. It was the ideal evening.

At 9:30 we sent the kids to bed and by 10:30 they were sleeping hard. It was like all the stars had aligned. Finally, we can have some alone time to play Monopoly. That almost never happens.

We weren't playing Monopoly but had pretty much picked out our pieces and distributed the cash when all of a sudden the door swung open and my nine year old was standing there.
              
Oh. my. God. My husband did a ninja roll and disappeared over the edge of the bed. My daughter was crying.
"What's wrong, baby?"
"My tummy hurts."
"Okay. Just go back to bed. I was about to take a shower so let me get dressed and I'll be right in."

She nodded and disappeared back to her bedroom. My husband peeked up. "Is she gone?"
I was getting dressed. "Yeah, but what the hell? You didn't lock the door."
"I THOUGHT I locked the door. Sorry."
"Next time instead of thinking of locking the door, maybe you should actually lock the door."
I was pissed.

I went into her room and she was clutching her stomach and whimpering. "My stomach hurts bad, mommy." I rubbed her back. "I'll run you a hot shower. Maybe that will help." I ran the shower and collected some fresh pajamas and a towel. She stayed in there for a half hour. In the meantime I built her a pallet on my bedroom floor and retrieved some medicine and a bottle of water.

She emerged close to midnight. She came out of the bathroom looking a fright. "Do you feel better?"
She shrugged, "A little."
I laid down on the floor next to her. "Will you rub my tummy?"
Whenever she has a stomach ache, I have to rub her tummy with a moderate amount of pressure in a circular motion.

I did this. For an hour. Every time I tried to stop she would wake up remind me to keep going. My arm had a cramp in it and I was exhausted but still I rubbed. At 1:30 I made her go to the bathroom. She was gone for about 15 minutes but still nothing. I resumed rubbing for another 45 minutes. At 2:30 she asked if she could take another hot shower.

I got up and ran the water. I laid back down on the floor and fell asleep. I woke up to her nudging me. It was close to 3 am. "Mom, I threw up."
"Where?"
"In the toilet."
"All of it?"
"Yes. I feel much better."
I was like:

I didn't have to clean up puke, my tummy rubbing marathon was over, my daughter felt better and now we could all fall asleep. I was so happy.

We all woke up late this morning. I went to use the bathroom and discovered that while my daughter had barfed in the toilet, she failed to flush the toilet and the entirety of my toilet bowl was covered in crusty vomit. At least the cleaning up didn't involve touching it or having it ooze between my toes so it was much easier than my usual regurgitation sanitation.

After I cleaned that up, I straightened the house because we were having an appraisal done. We've been renting this house for 4 years so it's time. The appraisers showed up in the late morning. They were two nice guys in their earlier 30s. I showed them around and they measured.

When we got to the kitchen they saw the pictures of my kids and were asking about them. I assumed they must have kids themselves. People that don't have kids don't give a shit about other people's children.
"How old are they?" he asked.
"Those pictures are old. My oldest is 11 and my youngest is 9. Do you have children?"
He nodded. "Yeah, my wife is due in December and I have a two year old. This guy over here has two girls, a one AND a two year old."
I turned to him and he gave me a look that said:
                        
Lord knows that I've been there. I mean with the newborn and two year old. Kids a year apart? Dear God, that sounds awful. It's not easy having a toddler and a baby or two toddlers. It's intense. I offered my condolences. "Stay strong. The struggle is real." None of us laughed. We just nodded. It's great. Kids are awesome and fun and the best thing that ever happened but it is not easy.

I was reminded of this later in the afternoon. I was getting ready to make dinner. I literally was pulling pots from the cabinet when my 11 year comes in and takes out a box of mac and cheese.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"Making mac and cheese."
"No. I'm making dinner. It will be done in 25 minutes."
"Can I make bowties?"
"No."
"But I'm hungry."
"You can have a snack."

She opened the fridge. "Can I eat this sandwich?"
"No. That's for dad's lunch tomorrow."
"Can I eat this chicken Caesar salad?"
"NO. That's for dad's lunch on Thursday."
"Can I make a toaster strudel."
"Seriously?!?!?! Those are for the morning. Eat a SNACK. You want a meal. I am making dinner. It will be done in like 20 minutes."
I opened the cabinet and gave her a tour, "You can have a granola bar, goldfish, graham crackers, sunflower seeds, banana chips, popcorn, a pear, blueberries, strawberries, cantaloupe, a gogurt...."

She crossed her arms and said, "I don't want any of that and stomped out of the kitchen. She probably texted her friend to tell her that I'm starving her. The struggle is real. I've been knowing about it.