Monday, February 6, 2012


I've noticed over time that this is how my blog sort of comes off. I have a post or two where I express delight in my children and my gratitude that they exist, and promptly follow with a post about how they made me go all Braveheart on their little butts.

This is because Mothers are bipolar. You're welcome.

For example, I'm pretty sure I hit about ten serious highs and lows today.

High: Genevieve slept all night and woke up squealing in a good way. At the same time I thought we were doing well time wise and going to get to the gym by 8 a.m.

Low: We managed to burn 20 minutes, making me "late" to my self appointed goal time, dealing with biological refuse. I put Payne's pants and shoes on. I put on Genevieve's coat and then smelled her. Went to change her and it. was. everywhere. I had to toss her clothes and the changing pad cover into the wash. I got her redressed and then Payne had to pee. Unfortunately, he had gotten a head start. I take his shoes and pants back off, find clean underwear, and redress him. Then Genevieve spits up all down herself. I do my best battle scream, which Payne finds hilarious, and go dress Genevieve again. Eventually, we actually get to the gym, after I kick a very undeserving Tiny the Pterodactyl doll across the hallway. Wrong place, wrong time, Honey.

High: My kids are cuter than all of the other kids at the gym daycare. Yer damn skippy.

Low: Getting battered with wee fists when it's time to leave the daycare. Staunch refusal by a certain child to eat his breakfast, despite being in hunger induced hysterics.

High: Payne wanting to stay and watch some maintenance men work on a leaky ceiling in a store, and really and truly not touching anything in said store. (cue choir of angels)

Low: Genevieve screaming so loud in a shoe store that she actually alarmed bystanders as I hobbled over to her in two different pumps begging for just one more minute.

High: Genevieve napped.

Low: Payne did not.

Yes, simultaneous highs and lows are possible.

High: Payne blowing into the end of an already inflated balloon from the back seat of the car, and announcing "My boon get bigger!". As I'm giggling about this I startle, as what can only be Chewbacca announces itself from by back seat. Nope, it's the baby.

Low: Trying to clean up Payne in a public restroom after Genevieve dumps a cup of soda on him. The boy has flat clammy feet that he constantly flexes and I was trying to put corduroy pants on him. I might as well have been trying to slip a fleece tracksuit onto a cactus.

High: Listening to Genevieve's insane giggles as she watches her brother entertain her during their bath, and watching Payne be sure to hold an arm suspended behind her, to catch her if she starts to fall backwards.

I both shake with rage and get happiness induced tears in my eyes every single day. This has to qualify me for some sort of psychological diagnosis. But hey, if I'm certifiable so are all of the other women I see closing their eyes in very public places and taking deep cleansing breaths. Heh heh.


  1. That's motherhood alright. I just hope that by the time they leave the house I haven't forgotten what it's like to be normal. Or maybe once you've started down the bipolar path there is no going back? God help our husbands when we're old!

  2. I totally feel like this! I just have 1, he's 9 months old, and I have felt so much more high strung since he was born. But I think bi-polar is a better word for it. I will go from staring lovingly at his face as he sleeps on my shoulder to stepping out of his room to throw a toy to the ground with as much force as possible when he wakes as soon as I lay his little body in the crib. Glad to know that I'm not alone :)

  3. You have described how I feel perfectly! One minute they are wonderful and the next they are going crazy. I have learned a lot about how to deal with my disruptive elementary schooler at I hope this helps you along the way!