Day One: Brought To You By the Letter U

About Danica

Today I officially start my new gig as a SAHM.

7:00 I roll out of bed and the kids quickly follow. They have homemade waffles for breakfast, which would make me feel like a super-mom if the waffles weren’t reheated leftovers from the waffle extravaganza I had cooked for dinner the night before. My own breakfast consists entirely of bacon.

9:00 We arrive at the local playground. Only one other family is there. The dad is enthusiastically playing with his kids, which makes me wonder if his neck tattoo says, “#1 Dad.” If it doesn’t it, it should.

10:00 We head to the grocery store, where I openly bribe my children to stay in the cart, for the love of god.

11:00 We arrive home. Audrey declares we will make birthday cards for an upcoming birthday party. All of my inspired craft ideas are put aside for Audrey’s practical one.

12: 15 I “cook” up a can of Annie’s Organic O’s, which are really bloody expensive, so it follows that the kids refuse to eat them, and instead both eat a lunch that consists entirely of grapes.

12.45 We head out for a car ride so Bud can fall asleep for his nap. He will only nap in the stroller or the car. Non-parents will say, “That’s absurd!” and mumble something about how their future offspring will nap enthusiastically and often, while parent-types will nod their heads sagely and say, “I would charter a plane if that’s what it took to get my kids to nap.” Then we just sit in the car. Audrey plays on the iPad. I overindulge in Facebook.

Mid nap Audrey starts making suspicious, bagpipe-like sounds. For a good fifteen minutes, she repeatedly claims that she does not have to go potty, and then suddenly she exclaims that actually, she has to go potty right this very instant. We run inside, me holding a bewildered Bud, and Audrey potties away. I pluck the kids back in the car, and Bud immediately goes back to sleep. The napping in the car thing is starting to sound a little weird, I admit.

2:55 In a moment that is almost cinematic in timing, my daughter announces that she has peed in her car seat, but “it’s not a big deal” while, at the same time, my husband calls to tell me he will be a little late coming home because he has to stop at Staples and get a planner. The thought of going to Staples alone sounds so exciting and thrilling that I choke back tears of jealousy and rage and manage to give him a begrudging, “Have fun,” which is the exact opposite of what I hope he experiences. “May Staples be out of planners and all of ye highlighters run dry!” is the mean little witchy spell I mentally cast.

3.15 Coffee. Feeling a little less, uh, manic.

3.20 Somebody has pooped or farted. I’ll need another cup of coffee before I have the will power to discover who has done exactly what.

4:00 Hubs comes home and I zip past in my running clothes off for a jog, which, to a passerby, probably looks less like a jog and more like fast lurch.

And thus, Day One of SAHM ends. I didn’t teach my kids to count and we didn’t work on their letters, as I had planned. But Audrey did tell me that her poop “looks like the letter U,” which just shows that experience is the best teacher of all.