The other seven nails.

*** Preface.  I started this blog about 4 months ago?!   Long before I had Ellie, life is much different now.  New posts to come :) ***

I sent a picture to my mom last week, half looking for a laugh, the other half seeking sympathy.   It was a fully painted set of fingernails.   My very own.   This would have been monumental a few years ago and it reminded me of why I started this blog.   I have been feeling tired, overwhelmed, excited, nervous, stressed and anxious.  All of the feelings, all at once just sort of hit me over the last month.  I rely on my husband to do more of the housework than he probably wants to, and my co-workers definitely do more heavy lifting around work, literally and figuratively.  I worry about how Ramsay is going to behave with the new baby in the house.  Some of you know how bad it was bringing Maddy home,  I'm crossing every finger and every toe that he doesn't behave the same way.  Things are changing around here and we all know it.

We have always tried to have a routine for Maddy, whether it is bath time or breakfast time, we try to stick to the same type of system no matter who is "on duty".   I think there is a new found independence in her that she is learning to navigate.  Much to my dismay.   We joke almost daily that she already sleeps like a teenager: we go in, gently nudge her and tell her to wake up, and turn on a dim light.   She proceeds to yell "noooooo" and pulls the covers over her head.  Someone goes back in a few minutes later, turns up the lights and pulls off the covers.  Another cry of protest from the pink blankets.  Only with a bribe of dry Fruit Loops and Peppa Pig does she surface.  Once we're downstairs there's a system of eating breakfast, putting on makeup, getting her dressed and the animals fed that works flawlessly.  What? You don't believe me?  That's fine, it was a lie anyway.   Those days are like once a month.  The normal morning is much more chaotic and ends in me trying to sell her to the lowest bidder.   I set timers in the morning and we've begun teaching her how to tell time.  I even, at her insistence, went out a bought a new clock that has the numbers on it.  Fair enough, hard to learn on a wall clock with only hands and no digits.  I put the food in front of her and tell her we have 20 minutes to eat.   When the big hand gets to the 4 we turn off Peppa and get dressed.  

"Okay mommy.  I'll be all done my cereal then".

"I hope you are babe, let's see how good you can do"

And at precisely 7:21 shit hits the fan.  I turn off the TV and the meltdown starts.  She wants to just watch til the end (of the season, not the episode).  She wants to play Lego, not get dressed.  She doesn't want to go to daycare.  She can't find her shoes/jacket/hat.  She hasn't brushed her teeth.  She wants to put on makeup.  For someone who has only been around for 3.5 years she sure knows a lot of stall tactics.  Fine, she gets that honestly, I'll admit.  But Jesus kid!  Hurry up!  No amount of prodding or helping will get her in the car.  More than once I've carried her boots in one hand and lifted her up football style under my arm just to get her out of the house.  It's now 7:36 and we are in the car.  Then a whole new level of stall happens!   She wants to change the radio station, she has to go to the driveway and read out the house numbers, she gets in and has to buckle herself up.  At 7:41 I drive away from the house praying there's no traffic and hoping I'll win a trip to Mexico by myself.   OK fine, husband can come too, but no kids!  I kiss her at the door of daycare and frankly I'm not sure who runs away faster, me and my headache or her to play with her friends, oblivious to the 45 minutes of stress she just caused.  I make it to work with seconds to spare. 

Driving home is uneventful, a solid 30 minute drive all alone, time to myself.  I've forgotten about the morning drama routine so I'm excited to go see her.   I look forward to her telling me that they "didn't go outside" and they had soup for lunch (for what I think is the 19th day in a row?  I clarified with daycare that this isn't true and they have a wide variety of lunches).  Good,  get your stories straight kid.  

Best case scenario is her and dad are hanging out in the kitchen, cooking and watching Peppa, or even at the table already eating.  If we can make it through dinner without a meltdown then that's a great success!  Usually she ends up not eating her food and we turn off the tv.  Then the tears start.  I look at the clock and think to myself "only two hours 'til bath time".  As if that were a saving grace.  Lately it's not, it's the total opposite actually.  I won't get into those stories.  Mostly because it stresses me out just thinking about it, and I don't want this to become a brooding, dramatic, shitting on a three year old blog.

I created this blog when Madison was an infant, and wrote many a story about life as a new, first time mom.  Then I continued to document her childhood, learning to walk and talk and pee on the potty.  I want her to be able to read this when she's older and I know I have to document these things now, because I'm already forgetting them.  I hope she knows how much I love her,  that I'm proud of her and for all the fights we get into, I wouldn't change it for anything.

And now a new adventure.  Bringing home a new baby where I will lean on Maddy for help.  My baby girl becomes the big girl for real.


I don't always have three painted nails, but when I do, there's a reason.  But right now, as baby girl is in my belly and big girl is asleep in her bed, I have time to finish the other seven nails.

Mike and I have a saying about Maddy..."shes a good egg".   That she is 🥚.