I turned 30 and it was not fun

I turned 30 yesterday. I kinda thought it would be more of a momentous occasion, but after taking a quick poll of a few fellow mom friends, we concluded that "birthdays as a mom suck." Excluded from this statement are the Pinterest/perfect blogger moms who wake up on their birthdays to not only a perfectly fluffed bed, but also a instagram-worthy breakfast being served in it, with a flower too rare to be purchased from local grocery store (forethought required!) as well as children who are wearing pajamas that match and contain no holes, and all of this after a full night of rest. Unfortunately I can't provide 30th birthday details to rival that. But I do have a lot of stories about poop, so let's get started.

The day before my birthday, it was raining buckets. The kids and I walked our wet selves to school and then Will and I slogged home and he took a nap. I had been contemplating whether or not to take him to the doctor because he just still didn't seem like his regular, happy self. He was constantly fussing and having diarrhea and continuing to NEVER SLEEP AT NIGHT, but no fever. When he woke from his nap and immediately went into hysterics, I thought, what the hell, at the very least, we can rule out an ear infection or something else I can't see. We were able to be seen right away, luckily, so we drove out to the office. And then the doctor confirmed that he had the flu! Wow. Did not see that one coming. She said that he was probably 4-5 days into it, so there was nothing they could really do. "Keep him hydrated. Keep him quiet." As if that's not my life's work already! We came home and I, once again, attempted to lure him into a quiet trance with Baby Einstein. Why these children must be taught to love television is beyond me. They are rarely allowed to watch tv, so you think when I turn it on, they'd be glued to it. Sam and Molly are now properly trained and give the appropriate response when a tv is turned on (catatonic state, no sudden movement, hushed whispers) but Will is taking a bit longer to get on board.

Once the big kids got home from school, Will took his afternoon nap and I let the big kids watch some tv on my bed. I needed to be horizontal and I needed for them to not constantly bicker with one another over legos and colored pencils. This worked well until someone claimed they pooped their pants. Apparently a fart was overtrusted and it turned out to be the start of some crazy diarrhea.

At this point, I had been on the phone with the allergist and the school nurse for a while. Sam's class was supposed to go on a field trip on my birthday (the next day) to the botanical gardens. The nurse told me that I needed to go due to Sam possibly needing benadryl, a "nurse dependent issue." I said, great, I'd love to go, but I will be bringing along my 10 month old son as well. "Oh no, he can't come. You'll have to send someone else from your family." Like I just have extended family hanging out all over the place here in NY. Also, they are walking around a garden, not going rock climbing, it's unlikely that I will need to do more than stare at the children as they sniff flowers. I told her that would not be possible. To which she replied, "Well if you can't find someone to go in your place, the entire trip will be cancelled." Not, your child will have to stay behind, but all three kindergarten classes would not be able to go on their field trip that's been hyped up for weeks. Now, bear in mind, this is all happening because the allergist wrote that Sam needs benadryl in case of a minor allergic reaction. The teachers can administer the Epipen in case of anaphylaxis, but due to a new state law they just recently decided to start following (? NYC does what they want?), teachers cannot administer medicine to students. I get that on a fundamental level, I really do. Teachers are busy and have a lot of kids to tend to, and maybe dosing out someone's seizure medication isn't in anyone's best interest. But for over the counter sleepy medicine? I asked the nurse if I, as his parent, could write a note saying that he does not need benadryl for the trip. Because I knew he wouldn't. They are a peanut-free school and there are not too many peanuts found in the wilds of NYC. I also haven't given Sam benadryl since we were living in Korea. It's been actual multiple YEARS since I've given him benadryl. I do not see a class trip to the gardens as the time that I will break that streak. Anyways. The nurse started saying medical things to me that I, as an idiot non-medical lay person, could not argue with. She told me to get a note from the allergist stating that he doesn't need the medicine. Because a doctor trumps a parent apparently. So after speaking with the allergist's office (and no one listening to a damn word I said), I got the run around and eventually ended up talking with THE allergist. I told her the situation and that I needed a note saying he did not need the benadryl for the class trip. I then backed this claim up with the astute medical advice given to me by the fast-talkin' school nurse. The allergist proceeded to tell me that what I told her (which I credited to the school nurse lest I sound like a medical idiot), was completely "bad medicine" and she could not write such a note because doing so would put her medical license AND INTEGRITY on the line. She told me that if the school nurse had further questions, to please contact her directly, as it seems she does not understand how benadryl and epipens interact. Yay. I love telling medical folks when they are wrong. (Not.)

Anyway, it was about this time anyway that the diarrhea started and it was decided that he wouldn't go to school at all. Molly woke up the next morning coughing up all sorts of random gunk and sounding like she smoked 3 packs a day. She ended up staying home too. And I know what you're thinking - you get to spend the day with your children! What more could anyone ask for on their birthday than to be surrounded by the ones you love most?!

Well, first of all, I could argue that I'd like a damn break? The six lightening-quick hours they are in school don't feel like enough time to accomplish even half the things on my to-do list. But when they are home? Things come to a grinding halt. Getting a load of laundry into the dryer seems to take me actual HOURS to do. It is understood that that load will not get folded or put away for at least a few more days. Running errands, obviously, take three times as long- finding shoes, coats, socks, that ONE book that needs to be read in the car, buckling and unbuckling all the damn carseats, finding that terrible shopping cart that is as long as every aisle in Target to house all three kids, etc.

There are some people out there who would just say, forget the chores! Forget the errands! We are going to lay around in pj's all day and watch movies and just have a lazy day! Well! I want y'all to know that if your family is capable of this type of day, I am greener than the grass on the fairway at the Augusta National in May! Because my family is not! My children want to move! Constantly! They are perfect angels for one movie TOPS and then it's like they've gotten too used to the idea of watching tv and they turn into smug monsters. And forget Will. I think the longest he's ever sat still or "snuggled" with me was ten minutes. And he might have had a boob in his mouth at that time. Just sayin. So while I would like nothing more than to tune out my life for a solid 90 minutes at a time, it's not in the cards for me. I pay dearly for it later with the big two, and the tiny one just doesn't give a shit that I want to lay down.

BACK TO THE STORY HERE. So all three kids are home with me and I am trying to figure out what we're going to do so as to not go absolutely batshit crazy. We were stuck inside yesterday due to the rain, and now we're stuck inside again due to everyone being sick. Sadly, I HAD to run to Target because we were out of a few random essentials like toilet paper and coffee. Definitely essential when no one sleeps and everyone poops. Lugging everyone out there was a true test of sanity. I loathe that massive shopping cart, but I think I hate trying to shop and watch the kids walking into every display and person in the store more, so I got the big shopping cart. I wore Will so he wouldn't touch anything and get more germs/spread his germs. Sam and Molly instantly started with the touching and the poking and the "he's on my side!" "she's on MY side!" "he won't stop looking at me!" "I wanna put that in the cart!" "let me get down so I can show you all the snacks that I want!" Meanwhile I am hissing at them to sit down and behave and giving death stares and wondering WHY THE HELL WE RAN OUT OF TOILET PAPER TODAY. We finally checked out and got back into the car. Molly messed with her carseat straps to the point that she could not even get one arm through. One side of her was stacked with groceries and the other side of her was Will and his massive carseat. It just makes me wonder why the entire world is working against me. WHY OH WHY can't we just get in the car and GO. Why must it be a production every single friggin time?! Finally got the carseat straps loosened and readjusted and started driving home. Getting all the kids and groceries up the stairs and put away is one more nail in the coffin containing my sanity. Then everyone is losing their mind because they're starving for lunch. Steve comes home for lunch too. I need him to start throwing food at Will, so I make his lunch too. Sam and Molly have the GALL to ask me why their lunch is taking so long. As the smoke comes out of my ears, I remind them that I'm making lunch for EVERYFREAKINGBODY and I have about 6 inches of total counter space and y'all all want something different and I'm not a machine and maybe I'm hungry too how do people ever in their right minds homeschool?! I would shank someone on the first day. And it might be myself.

Steve had to go back to work too soon (who could blame him- I'd leave if I could too!) and then it was just me alone with the three stooges. When I need to recharge my sanity, I usually vacuum. So I did. I love the loud, white noise and the way it drowns out my children's whiny voices. I like watching something I do have an actual visible impact, even if it is ruined a mere two hours later. But mostly I like the fact that the kids know I can't hear them (heh) when the vacuum is on so no one bothers talking to me. Will seems to accept this too and just rolls around the floor and attempts to grab the cord. Anyways, once the highlight of my day was over, it was back to business as usual. After the behavior in Target, I informed the group that EVERYONE would be taking a nap today. No tv. Since Will is always wanting to nap early, I decided to indulge him since we didn't have to stay up to go pick the big kids up from school. I banished the big kids to their room with strict instructions to stay put OR ELSE. I got Will down only for the big kids to alternate coming out asking me if naptime was over yet. And then 10 minutes later, Will woke up and would. not. go. back. to. sleep. I must have attempted to salvage that nap for an hour and a half. He wasn't having it. Literally laughed in my face. So I waved the white flag. The big kids came out and I tried not to cry. At some point I got desperate and turned on Baby Einstein. Like moths to a flame, the big kids sat mesmerized. Will improved and sat still for about 7 minutes. I attempted to make dinner.

I know what you're thinking. Why the hell are you making dinner on your birthday? ORDER TAKEOUT. And I would have, but I have been really focused on us eating everything in our freezer before we move, and I just so happened to have some breakfast sausage completely thawed and needing to be cooked. I knew I'd make a delicious breakfast casserole with it, but attempting to cook dinner with a baby who was literally clinging to my legs while screaming and wiping his snotty nose on my pants was the furthest thing from fun. Steve had mentioned earlier how he was going to go get me a cake from the bakery after work. I called him, begged him not to go get a cake. We don't need a cake. I don't want a cake. I want you to come hold this screaming baby so I can make this friggin dinner and throw everyone in bed. But too late, he had already gotten the cake. He rushed home and wrangled the kids for me. Pretty sure he saw a scary amount of crazy in my eyes by that point.

I'd also like to add that the realtor texted asking if she could show our apartment at 8. Mind you, that's 8 in the EVENING. As in, one hour past my children's bedtimes. Oh she gave me a good laugh, I'll tell you what! Knee-slappin' good laugh. 

We finally ate dinner. Then Steve opened the cake box and Sam's eyes got wider than silver dollars at the fudgey chocolate that sat before him. Everyone sang to me and Molly hugged and kissed me and repeatedly wished me a happy birthday, as if she hadn't just been steering the bus driving me straight to insanity a half hour earlier. Sam snarfed down his slice and Will threw his bite on the floor and Steve offered to bathe everyone for me. I nursed Will to sleep and brushed the big kids' teeth before saying prayers with them and tucking them into bed. I went downstairs to put away the leftovers before saying a big "F U" to all of the dirty dishes. And then I talked to my parents on the phone, which always cheers me up and makes me laugh. I finished the day passed out in bed with my "festively plump" sweatpants on and laughing at memes with a friend. And I was asleep before 930 because I knew in my heart that I'd be up again before midnight, and, as usual, Will did not disappoint.


So if you are having a less-than-stellar birthday with kids that could really give a shit about your "special" day, please know you're not alone. Not by a long shot. I am comforted (sort of) with the thought that one day I will be able to actually celebrate a birthday, not just survive it. And maybe my kids will have kids that will make their birthdays miserable too. I cannot confirm nor deny that that was my wish as I blew out my candles...



PS. Happy birthing day to my Mama! I love you and appreciate that natural birth you had, especially since you did it before it was trendy. I'm also in constant awe at how much sanity you have retained despite having four children in three years. The fact that you went on to have a fifth a few years later (surely you had regained your senses by then!) really blows my mind. I'll never understand how you did it all (and with such a cheery disposition!), but wouldn't be opposed to you sharing every last one of your secrets with me. (Please? PLEASE)