Because it is a Monday and it is not raining, I have exactly 90 minutes between the moment E walks in the door and the moment he leaves again for hockey practice. 90 glorious free minutes during which I can take a shower unassisted by a toddler (“Mama, BOOBS!”) or fold laundry using both arms or sweep the front porch without anyone running through the piles of dirt and tracking it straight into the house. 90 precious minutes to fit in all the chores and errands that are a struggle to do with two kids but should really be done sooner rather than later.

“I’m just going to run to the post office”, I said to E as I grabbed my keys. “Caroline just woke up so she probably needs a diaper [I throw a diaper and a clean outfit in his direction]. You don’t have to get her dressed though, if you want to give her some of this watermelon I cut up she’ll get all messy anyway. Just put her in the high chair. And there are apples in the bowl if you want to put some in her meshie, although it might be in the dishwasher but those dishes are clean so you could get it out.”

E looks up from the remote. “How long are you going to be GONE?”

And that, right there, is the cause of 99% of our fights. I think taking care of the babies is a full time, active job that involves fruits and vegetables and songs and flashcards and cute outfits and playgroups and tummy time. E thinks it involves making sure everyone is breathing and relatively non-poop encrusted.

In the end, we are both right. There are plenty of parenting moments that are nothing more than sitting on the floor with the kids, playing “how big is the baby?” or “where’s your belly button?” or “how hard can you whack daddy in the nuts while trying to climb on him?” But as the primary childcare provider*, more of my time is spent feeding, changing, dressing, rocking, nursing, chasing, holding, and disciplining children. My default mode is to PROVIDE.

So when I hand over the parenting reins for a few minutes I expect my husband to stay just as busy. No, Caroline isn’t going to STARVE if he doesn’t give her some watermelon during the twelve minutes I’m gone. But I was the parent who was home while E went to the post office, those are all the things I would have been doing. I feel like shared parenting means sharing all of it – not just the interesting parts. On the balance sheet of taking care of kids, he doesn’t get to cross of “get hugs” and “read books” while I’m stuck with “offer the baby eleven different foods to throw on the floor” and “let the toddler spit out the apple skin he refuses to swallow for the umpteenth time into your hand.”

But my parenting advice never goes over well and the more times I suggest – Honey you should…Honey why don’t…Honey I think… – the more annoyed E gets and, ironically, the less likely he is to pitch in. Not because he is spiteful and mean, but because who wants to keep doing something you are told over and over you are not good at? (I mean BESIDES blogging, because obviously no one can stop me from sucking up more than my share of the interwebs. I’m in yur bandwidth, writtin down mah rambling thoughts!)

We need to find a compromise that DOESN’T involve either of us threatening to move to Australia.

*And hey, who wants to talk about how totally messed up it is that childcare costs a frickin ZILLION DOLLARS, but watching one’s own children doesn’t count as a job? Oh, you don’t have time to discuss one of the most written about parts of motherhood ever? How about just an Amen?

Sunday:

We have pretty lax house rules on Sundays

We put on pants long enough to hit up Target

And acted like mature adults at BJ's

Monday:

For the first time in 25 weeks, I have NO pictures from a day. I was too sick to care if my kid wore clothes or ate anything besides jelly beans, which means I was definitely too sick to carry my phone around taking snapshots of things like the doctor’s office or the back of my eyelids.

Tuesday:

I was still sick so I asked Brutus to babysit

I don't think he's going to say yes next time

I braved taking both kids to the ped for Caroline's 4 months check-up, and Little Evan was the best behaved 2 year old ever

Wednesday:

I spent an hour looking for just the right thing to make with this yarn but haven't found it yet

Little Evan put boots in one bag and shoes in the other and told me BAH-BYEEE!

Caroline is shocked he wants to leave. "But they have so much MILK here!"

Thursday:

This face was because I wouldn't let him ACTUALLY put on mascara instead of pretend to put on mascara. It was a rough morning.

But things got better after some orange slices and water in a big boy cup

Brutus was thrilled there was finally a patch of sunlight to lie in

Friday:

The Evan's check out the touch tank at the aquarium, where we had a playdate with bloggy friends!

I taught Caroline to stick out her tounge when I stick out mine

Evan and I took a super fun solo-trip to (shocking) Target at BJ's. I love going places with JUST ONE kid.

Saturday:

We went to Home Depot to look at paving stones, but it was POURING & the stone were outside

Caroline modeled one of her new headbands

And a onesie to celebrate her first Easter

The rest of Saturday we hid inside, partly from the rain, partly because Little Miss Caroline is teething and NO ONE wants to hear the noise she makes when her teeth are bothering her. I am seriously considering buying earplugs. Tomorrow I get to surprise the kids with Easter Baskets, whip up a batch of cheddar-rosemary scones and head over to a wonderful friend’s house for Easter dinner and toddler play time.

Amy’s busy planning for Parker’s big 1st birthday so there’s no linky today. But hopefully we’ll be back next Saturday!

Linky is up! Better late than never!

Little Evan is so lucky to have so many awesome friends. Because even though all the decorations and fancy food is for me, the party is still for him, and he LOVES other kids. LOVES THEM. He would spend all day giving hugs if his friends would hold still long enough – but he’s just as happy to chase them in circles while laughing his little red head over off and running like a weirdo. Seriously, the boy has the STRANGEST run ever. I should get it on video.

Here are some of the GORGEOUS children from our party. Seriously, how is it possible all my friends have such good looking kids?

Caroline wore polka-dots to fit in with our theme

A was really excited about the balloons

M had the BEST time in the ball pit. I should tell her mama to bring her over any time for more jumping.

Luckily the weather was nice enough for the porch swing. My friend Sarah's kids also dressed for our theme!

Running-start hug for my Aunt Susan. I was surprised so many kids wore the hats!

Tip toes to reach a balloon

T and his crazy hair in the ball pit

I know I've posted a zillion pics of J already but isn't this BEAUTIFUL? My dad took it.

C really enjoyed his fruit and veggies. His mama made him that vest!

N loved having her picture taken

And I recycled the photo booth from the circus party last year. I once again failed to get good pictures of everyone, especially with the weird afternoon light and the smallish backdrop. Next party I’ll use more fabric on a better-lit wall. If I can find one of those in my house.

Please note the headband I made that matches Little Evan's shirt. AM CRAFTY.

I have more, but I’ll save them for a Facebook album so people who’s kids are in them can steal and share them easily. Thank you so much to everyone who came! You made our celebration special!!

I’m currently deep in the throes of Trying To Do It All with a side of Why Yes, I Am Suzy Homemaker and a dash of Impossibly High Standards on top. I get like this every time I face a new year/life change/burst of energy and end up driving myself crazy in the process. But that doesn’t stop me from trying. It’s especially bad right now because I’ve combined the pressure of Starting Over In The New Year with the pressure to act like I have my act together as Mother of Two. And don’t get me started on how insane the constant barrage of DIET DIET DIET LOSE WEIGHT YOU’RE SO FAT JOIN A GYM DIET DIET EAT MORE FIBER EAT LESS FOOD GET YOUR BODY BACK from the television makes me. Someday maybe I’ll write a whole post on why exactly that kind of talk is so dangerous (not just in general but for me personally), but for now lets just say I’m enjoying my final 3 weeks of birth/labor recovery before I’m even ALLOWED to work out and not worrying about getting anything “back”. Besides my clean floors, clean bathrooms, clean fridge, clean pantry, organized closets, organized shelves, mopped kitchen, vacuumed floors, etc etc etcetcetcetc. ETC. I would like those back. Because despite the fact that what I really want to be doing is napping, I am instead framing artwork for a new grouping in our formal living room and making menu plans for hypothetical play dates. (NO REALLY, I WAS DOING THAT TODAY.)

Of course, as I write this my toddler is stomping on his lunch (and by lunch I mean pizza flavored Goldfish I threw in his general direction around 2 pm), I’m wearing yoga pants, dinner isn’t started and I’m on my fourth caffeinated beverage of the day.

So clearly, I’m not setting the bar TOO high.

What I mean is I’ve decided to become the kind of person who never lets laundry pile up, whose bathrooms are always clean, who makes dinner from scratch (or at least doesn’t order pizza) every night, who never raises her voice or gets frustrated with her children, who wears clothes that fit and loses all the baby weight within two months, thanks to 4 times a week workouts to which I am never late. I will change the very essence of my being and 28 years of habits and nevermind the fact that I have never not even once made this kind of commitment stick for more than just a few days. THIS TIME will be different.

Basically, really, I’ve decided to FAIL. I’m going to stay on top of things for exactly two days and then spend the next two months beating myself up about it. I am going to have exactly one person over for one play date where I provide healthy snacks and a clean carpet and charming conversation and wear real pants. But as soon as they go home I will collapse on the couch and change into pajamas and stuff my face with brownies and yell at my toddler and order pizza for dinner and leave the box on the floor.

Because honestly, that’s the kind of mother I am. Laid-back. Which is a nice way of saying lazy. Or maybe I’m just a little overwhelmed right now.

It would be so much better for everyone if I just tried to do SOME stuff instead of EVERYTHING. Set reasonable goals, like one load of laundry a day or loading the dishwasher every night or cooking 4 nights a week. Gee, that sounds so reasonable and do-able and normal. Clearly not something I am at ALL interested in being. Why would I possible want to avoid an opportunity to beat myself up about how I suck at motherhood?

ISSUES: I HAVE THEM.

p.s. My attempts at perfect have been thwarted EVEN SOONER than I could have predicted, thanks to what seems to be yet another kidney infection. Instead of making the dinners I planned and shopped for I’m forcing my family to forage for microwave popcorn and apples while I lie on the couch moaning through chills and a 102 fever. Which is why this post is super whiny – it’s hard to be funny when it feels like someone kicked you repeatedly in the back with steel toed boots.

p.p.s. I’m calling the doctor today. They were closed yesterday due to the snow and unless I am in so much pain I can’t function I’m trying to avoid the emergency room. Not super fun with a 3 week old.