And for the grand finale...
If you haven't already heard me complaining, Mr. Yoy left Friday on a mostly work, with a little bit of play, trip to Washington D.C.
He is currently in flight on his way back to the ATL.
I don't know why I'm feeling so relieved. I still have Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday to get through before I will have some hands on help this weekend.
At least I'll be able to talk to someone older than Big E. I'm growing bored of this week's hot topics which include stickers, goldfish crackers, and trains.
So here I am. Worn out. Moving dangerously close to completely losing my sh*t. I've had zero help. No parents, no babysitter, nothing. Just me and these two little tornadoes. From morning until night. This explains why they've been going to bed at 6:30.
As we approached the end of the day, I was starting to feel hopeful again. All is not lost. I will survive. As part of my abandonment therapy, I will spend gobs of money redecorating our house and my wardrobe.
The following is what went down between 5pm and 6:30pm, when I finally put the Yoys to bed.
5:03 PM: Big E pees all over the guest bathroom rug while attempting to pull down his pants. This results in me doing my third load of laundry today. (Side note, the rug completely fell apart in the washing machine. RIP rug.)
5:06 PM: I bring Big E down a clean pair of undies, but no shorts as we have already done baths mid-day and will be switching to jammies shortly. There is no need to blow through another pair of shorts. I do enough damn laundry as it is.
5:07 PM: Big E goes crazy nuts over the fact that he isn't wearing shorts.
5:08 PM: Mrs. Yoy locks herself in the guest bathroom so I don't go crazy nuts on my kids. Big E is nipping at my heels and banging on the door. I sit in the dark and take deep breaths.
5:10 PM: I tell Big E to sit in his chair, sans shorts, so we can eat dinner. He whines a bit, but finally concedes.
5:30 PM: Big E announces his after dinner BM and makes a beeline for the stairs. I follow him up to his potty. He tells me he has already gone in his pants. My heart sinks. But he actually hasn't. He takes a man dump. We all applaud.
5:40 PM: We are all back downstairs while I clean up the kitchen. I notice an ant infestation and get to work on extermination.
5:45 PM: Big E yells that he is back in the downstairs bathroom and has pooped on his step stool. This time he has. I clean it up and run back upstairs for another pair of undies. I return to find Big E flushing the toilet. It backs up. Sweet Lord.
5:46 PM: I harness my best plumber imitation and plunge the toilet. I glance at my watch. It IS too early to put them to bed. Isn't it?
5:50 PM: We head to the playroom to kill some time. What is that smell? Of course, Little E, not to be outdone, has left me a doozy. Ugh.
5:51 PM: We all make the trip upstairs. It is over for me. I read a few books, straighten up their rooms for the cleaning people (it is a sickness, I know) and put the Yoys to bed.
I feel like I just completed a marathon, without actually running.
I'm tired. Physically and mentally. I need a break.
Would it be bad to check myself into the St. Regis for Mother's Day and lay in bed all day reading US Weeklys and watching rom-coms?
Also, I'd like to give a shout-out to single parents. They are amazing, hands down.
He is currently in flight on his way back to the ATL.
I don't know why I'm feeling so relieved. I still have Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday to get through before I will have some hands on help this weekend.
At least I'll be able to talk to someone older than Big E. I'm growing bored of this week's hot topics which include stickers, goldfish crackers, and trains.
So here I am. Worn out. Moving dangerously close to completely losing my sh*t. I've had zero help. No parents, no babysitter, nothing. Just me and these two little tornadoes. From morning until night. This explains why they've been going to bed at 6:30.
As we approached the end of the day, I was starting to feel hopeful again. All is not lost. I will survive. As part of my abandonment therapy, I will spend gobs of money redecorating our house and my wardrobe.
The following is what went down between 5pm and 6:30pm, when I finally put the Yoys to bed.
5:03 PM: Big E pees all over the guest bathroom rug while attempting to pull down his pants. This results in me doing my third load of laundry today. (Side note, the rug completely fell apart in the washing machine. RIP rug.)
5:06 PM: I bring Big E down a clean pair of undies, but no shorts as we have already done baths mid-day and will be switching to jammies shortly. There is no need to blow through another pair of shorts. I do enough damn laundry as it is.
5:07 PM: Big E goes crazy nuts over the fact that he isn't wearing shorts.
5:08 PM: Mrs. Yoy locks herself in the guest bathroom so I don't go crazy nuts on my kids. Big E is nipping at my heels and banging on the door. I sit in the dark and take deep breaths.
5:10 PM: I tell Big E to sit in his chair, sans shorts, so we can eat dinner. He whines a bit, but finally concedes.
5:30 PM: Big E announces his after dinner BM and makes a beeline for the stairs. I follow him up to his potty. He tells me he has already gone in his pants. My heart sinks. But he actually hasn't. He takes a man dump. We all applaud.
5:40 PM: We are all back downstairs while I clean up the kitchen. I notice an ant infestation and get to work on extermination.
5:45 PM: Big E yells that he is back in the downstairs bathroom and has pooped on his step stool. This time he has. I clean it up and run back upstairs for another pair of undies. I return to find Big E flushing the toilet. It backs up. Sweet Lord.
5:46 PM: I harness my best plumber imitation and plunge the toilet. I glance at my watch. It IS too early to put them to bed. Isn't it?
5:50 PM: We head to the playroom to kill some time. What is that smell? Of course, Little E, not to be outdone, has left me a doozy. Ugh.
5:51 PM: We all make the trip upstairs. It is over for me. I read a few books, straighten up their rooms for the cleaning people (it is a sickness, I know) and put the Yoys to bed.
I feel like I just completed a marathon, without actually running.
I'm tired. Physically and mentally. I need a break.
Would it be bad to check myself into the St. Regis for Mother's Day and lay in bed all day reading US Weeklys and watching rom-coms?
Also, I'd like to give a shout-out to single parents. They are amazing, hands down.
After the week I've had, it better be.
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