Dante’s Inferno

I was feeling so smug because I was thinking that we must be doing something right, since Chaos seemed like she was more organized. Not dramatically so, but, you know, we turned off the TV, limited electronics, and it seemed to help.

Turns out what REALLY helped is that Chaos did not have a cold, or tooth pain, or an ear infection.

I know this because she has a cold now, and WOW. I know I spend most of my time on this blog either a) expressing my gratitude that Chaos does not have a cold while simultaneously expressing my angst about the fact that every day without a cold just brings us one day closer to the next cold, or b) complaining that Chaos has a cold and it’s so awful.

It is, though. When Baby Peanut brought home Cold Dante, it was nothing. It was so minor that the Bishop was not even AWARE that Baby had Cold Dante until I said, “I think I’m catching Baby’s cold.” (And it was unavoidable for me, because the baby LITERALLY spit in my face. I mean, he was kidding, we were blowing raspberries at each other, but still, tiny germ-ridden droplets of saliva, scattered all over my face. Yeah.)

Then, in the middle of the night, Chaos woke up howling, and since she usually doesn’t howl in the middle of the night I had a bad feeling about it and sure enough she woke up with Cold Dante and was really grumpy and even though Dante is, essentially, a sniffle, Chaos found it so upsetting that she went all Robespierre on the school and they sent her home.

She was OK for me all afternoon, even with the snot on her face, but bedtime turned into an hour-long howl fest where Chaos was incredibly upset because she wanted to eat before bed but she also refused to eat. Refused. The Bishop and I had to physically HOLD HER DOWN while I sang softly to her and the Bishop fed her like a baby because she was so disorganized she could not manage to access the ability to feed herself. We went into her bedroom to play some organizing games and she let me change her into PJ bottoms but the idea of changing from her school polo shirt into a t-shirt with a kitten caused another howl attack, and finally we just let her sleep in her polo shirt. All of this took forever and the Bishop went to bed because of Dante and I need to do the dishes and go to bed because Chaos will probably be up howling in the middle of the night because of snot on her face.

Have I mentioned lately how much I hate it when Chaos gets sick? Poor Chaos. Poor me.

How DO I live like this?

Some days I really don’t know how I *DO* live like this.  Tuesday was one of those days.

I hurt my neck and shoulders, I don’t know how.  So when you’re imagining all of this, you need to include PAIN, OK?  Pain.  Not unbearable pain, just, like, low-grade, level 3 pain.  Annoying pain.  The kind of pain that makes you say, “My life would sure be better without this PAIN.”  That kind of pain.

So Tuesday, after a long-ish night, the Bishop woke me up at about 8:30 (Baby was still sleeping) so that I could have my shower.  After my shower, the Bishop took off for work, and Chaos Peanut celebrated by peeing in our bed.  So I stripped the bed and threw the sheets into the wash, while Baby Chaos sat in his bouncy seat and cried.  His heart was breaking without me.

Monday night, I had put a load of laundry on top of the wet laundry that was still in the washer (classy) and Tuesday morning the Bishop put the whole load (largest load of laundry EVAR) in the dryer.  It took about four years to dry.  When I went to get Chaos’ underwear and some nice warm clothes for Baby…

There was a suspicious smell of poop…

Because someone (note that I am not blaming the Bishop here.  Because it might have been me as well.  But it probably wasn’t.) had not cleaned all the poop out of Chaos’ pants after an accident, and so into the wash the poop went.

You know what happens when you launder poop and put it in the dryer?  I’m not talking about poop stains on clothes, I’m talking actual great balls of poop.  So do you know what happens?

Well, I’ll tell you what happens.  You get linty poop.

Which you then have to FIND among the shirts and pants and underpants and baby clothes.  You have to go hunting for the linty poop.

So I’m in the basement with my head in the dryer (at least it wasn’t in the oven!) hunting for linty poop.  Baby Peanut is upstairs (I can hear him) screaming his face off in the bouncy seat.  I know Chaos isn’t up there trying to kill him because she loves him so, because she had followed me into the basement.  She was very excited to find me, and also to find her Princess scooter, which was down in the basement because it is January, so she  celebrated by peeing on the floor.

Me, I located all of the linty poop (there were several pieces.  You didn’t want to know that?  Well, neither did I!) and threw it in the toilet.  I put the laundry back in to RE-wash, in two loads.  I got Chaos cleaned up and on the potty.

You’re remembering the background of PAIN and SCREAMING BABY right?

Also Baby decided that was a good day to really practice his upchucking skills.  He is really showing a talent for that.

I did have a babysitter come to help me that day.  Emily the Awesome showed up and stayed late and held Baby Peanut for me.  Baby Peanut was best pleased and he barfed on her too.  He didn’t want to play favorites.

It was easier once Awesome Emily was there, but also I feel like I really *should* be able to handle this on my own.  Mothers, since the beginning of time, have been  handling this and more, without Awesome Emily, and without even having things like a washing machine.  And they still have clean houses.

I want to make some snarky comment about how this just proves that I am completely inadequate but every time I try to phrase it I just sound insecure, and I am  not, or like I’m fishing for you to tell me that I am not completely inadequate, and I am not.

I know I am completely inadequate.  I know because one time I meditated for a writing class, and I looked deep into my inner self because the instructor said that there would be some deep spiritual message from my inner self that would guide me for the rest of my days.  So I looked deep into my inner self and I got the spiritual message that would guide me for the rest of my days, and the message was, “You are completely inadequate.”

I have decided the best thing to do is to make peace with that.

It must be Hanukkah somewhere.

It is Tuesday, January 2nd.  It is 1:03 p.m.  Chaos Peanut, my five year old who has special needs, is sitting on the floor.  She has just peed on that floor.  My husband, Senator Mishegas, cleaned the pee off the floor.  Then he washed his hands and went back to baking his pie.

The reason that he cleaned the floor, and he baked the pie, is that our ten week old baby, Baby Peanut, is napping.  On me.  That’s his favorite place to nap.  His second favorite place to nap is on you.  His third favorite place to nap is in the car.  The only time I can get anything done is when he is not napping on me, and yet I am also not driving the car in which he is napping.  That would mean that he is napping on you.  When are you coming over?

I hope you’re not bothered by mess and chaos.

Chaos Peanut is begging for any kind of entertainment.  She has a list.  “I want T.V!” she crows.  But she doesn’t get to watch T.V. because she peed on the floor.  “I want movie!” she says.  Same rules apply. “I want eat!  Eat banana!” She has just eaten six containers of baby food mixed with baby cereal and Trader Joe’s sun butter.  (It’s an issue, her diet.  An issue for another post.  Sometime.  But for now, just know that she only eats soft foods.  And by soft, I mean, foods with the texture of bisque.  Only not as fancy.)

Finally she calls, “I want help!”  She is standing by the menorahs that we haven’t put away from Hanukkah.  She is singing the candle blessings.  She wants Senator Mishegas to light the candles and sing with her.  She doesn’t even care if she gets a present, she just wants to see the candles again, and hear the music.

It’s Hanukkah somewhere, right?

It must be Hanukkah somewhere.