A typical Day at the Nickels
I feel like I post a lot of great moments with the kids. How cute they can be and showing a lot of their loving sides. And yup, those moments exist, and they are amazing.
But let me take a moment to tell you how 80% of our days actually go:
Al wakes, screams on top of his lungs: "I AM AWAKE!" Despite us telling him it's not time to get up yet, he repeats at increasingly louder volume until someone goes to get him.
When we do finally wake up, we realize that the girls have somehow crawled into bed with us in the middle of the night without us noticing. Curse the king size bed...but bless the king size bed.
Now everyone is up. Everyone is hungry. We ask them what they'd like to have for breakfast. Bacon they say. We say no. Because bacon is only for weekends. In truth, because bacon every day starting at the age of 2 will probably clog your arteries sooner than we would like. And also, because bacon gets expensive with 3 kids.
The kids hum and ha about what they want for breakfast for 10 more minutes while complaining about being hungry.
While they're deciding, we let Charlie out the back to pee and poop. Because...that's the life with a dog now.
Bryan is trying to rush Mackenzie out the door. Put on your jacket, put on your boots. I swear, the whole thing takes 10 more minutes.
Bryan gets into his groove for work. Then 5 minutes later, lets Charlie out again. Because you know...puppy.
We don't know how, but the house looks like it has exploded. It's only 10 am.
We repeat the Charlie/Bree needing both of our attention for another hour.
Time to feed Bree. She rejects all of our lunch offers. But then she gets hangry. So we settle for a chocolate wrap.
For some reason, it takes her less time to get out the door than the rest of the kids. She goes to preschool.
Bryan comes back. It's now noon. He brings with him another coffee for us. Because...we can't live otherwise.
We let Charlie out...again. He gets lunch. Finishes in 2 minutes. And now he's BORED. He chews up everything. Tissue is his favorite.
We have 2 hours of "peace" to work.
Bryan goes to get Bree. Drops Bree off at home. Heads out to get Mackenzie with Charlie. Comes home and we scramble to get ready for whatever after school activities we stupidly sign up for.
Suddenly, it's 4:30 pm. I haven't even thought about dinner. Should we order take out? Or is grilled cheese ok?
I finish work at 5 pm (thank God). Bryan manages to finish what he needs between running around. I cook dinner. If I am on the ball, most of the time, we're having meat, veggies, and rice. The kids are thrilled (sarcasm noted). They ask for candy. I say no. Because...dinner is soon. I am the worst.mom.ever.
We feed Charlie dinner. Finishes in 2 minutes. He's bored again.
The kids play outside if it's not raining. Or they have friends come over and play inside and make such a mess that I can no longer see the floor upstairs. They are loud, they are screaming, they are running. The dog bites, because he thinks we're all trying to play with him. The kids are fighting and crying and we are just trying to triage who needs us most. This results in more screaming and crying and pushing and hitting and talking about using kind tones and kind words and respecting the nos. We are not sure why we bother, because clearly, after the 100th time of having these talks, IT'S NOT WORKING.
The kids are so thrilled about dinner, it takes them an hour to eat 10 bites. No amount of soy sauce speeds up this process. I am looking at the clock. Countdown to bed time is on. I yell about 20 times during dinner. It doesn't work. I threaten to put them to bed. I get one bite out of that threat. I threaten to take away the iPad, I get 2 more bites. I try to bribe them with a treat. Sometimes, we pretend they are dogs and they'll come barking for a bite or two. We look ridiculous Mostly, I just yell some more.
Dinner is over. They ask for candies again. I say no. Because we don't have sugar before bed. I am the worst.mom.ever.
Sometimes Bryan is off to work at this point. I am at home, with 3 kids, a dog, and my mom. My mom cleans up. I am yelling at the kids to put on their PJ's.
Remember how the morning went with changing the kids? We double the time at bed time. They want one more snack, drink, video, tv show - anything but bed. I scream some more. At the kids and at Charlie, who at this point is now chewing on shoes and toys and paper.
I need wine.
I attempt to put all 3 kids down in 3 different rooms. It's a giant fail. I give 2 kids the iPad, so I can put one kid down in peace. It takes 20 minutes and a lot of negotiating to put the first kid down (Al). He settles well. He sings on the top of his lungs for the next 30 minutes on his own ("Tomorrow! Tomorrow! I love you! Tomorrow!") I leave him.
I go put Bree down. She has to be touching me AT ALL TIMES. So now I have to lay with her. If I'm lucky, she's out in 30 minutes. I'm now 50 minutes into bed time.
I go put Mack down. By now I have nothing else to give. She complains (rightfully so). I yell a little. Then I feel absolute guilt. I give what I can - which is only 5 more minutes. I close the door.
I open the fridge, I open a bottle of wine. I hear the door open upstairs. One of the girls is up. I calmly ask her to go back to sleep. It doesn't work. I raise my voice a little. Still doesn't work. I yell. She goes back. The other one comes out. We repeat this cycle about 3-5 more times. I'm now 2 hours into bed time and I am wondering if there's enough wine in the house for me.
It's 10:30 pm.
Bryan texts: one the way home, need anything?
Me: Yes, sleeping children and more booze please.
And so, we repeat this 5 more times during the week. And then it's the weekend. And that's a WHOLE OTHER STORY.
But let me take a moment to tell you how 80% of our days actually go:
Al wakes, screams on top of his lungs: "I AM AWAKE!" Despite us telling him it's not time to get up yet, he repeats at increasingly louder volume until someone goes to get him.
When we do finally wake up, we realize that the girls have somehow crawled into bed with us in the middle of the night without us noticing. Curse the king size bed...but bless the king size bed.
Now everyone is up. Everyone is hungry. We ask them what they'd like to have for breakfast. Bacon they say. We say no. Because bacon is only for weekends. In truth, because bacon every day starting at the age of 2 will probably clog your arteries sooner than we would like. And also, because bacon gets expensive with 3 kids.
The kids hum and ha about what they want for breakfast for 10 more minutes while complaining about being hungry.
While they're deciding, we let Charlie out the back to pee and poop. Because...that's the life with a dog now.
We feed Charlie. He eats in 2 minutes.
The kids finally decide. Bryan makes breakfast (toast/cereal). If I get up, I try to get lunches ready. Find outfits for the day. But WHERE ARE THE SOCKS? We don't know why we can never find socks or why there are just so many damn single socks.
Milk has been spilled by Al (or Charlie) somewhere. Al is very sorry. Whoever (Bryan or I) is cleaning up is upset. We do a big sigh.
We ask them to please hurry up and eat their breakfast. We don't understand why it's taking 20 minutes when they were whining about being so hungry earlier. Why can't they be like Charlie?
We nag them to get changed. 10 times. Finally, one sleeve is on. 10 more times later, the other sleeve (a whole shirt!) is on. You can imagine how much yelling has gone on now and we've been awake for less than an hour.
Bryan is trying to rush Mackenzie out the door. Put on your jacket, put on your boots. I swear, the whole thing takes 10 more minutes.
They're finally out the door. I'm left with 2 kids and a dog.
I find out everyone only ate half of their breakfast.
My kids ask for candies. It's 9 am. I say no. I am the worst.mom.ever.
I let Charlie out to pee and poop again - because that's what you do when you have a puppy.
I change Al and get him ready for daycare. He resists. And we have a wrestling match.
Bree is on her iPad and I'm not even ashamed. I need to get shit done.
I log into work. I am greeted by 10 emails - 9 of them were "reply alls". I delete all 10 emails.
For some unknown reason, Al and Bryan aren't out the door for another 30 minutes. I hide in my room to work.
Al and Bryan finally head to daycare. Bree comes into our room. She wants to spend time with me. So we sit together until Bryan gets home. He makes a pot of coffee, and by now, we're 2 hours into our day. We are finally settled.
Bryan gets into his groove for work. Then 5 minutes later, lets Charlie out again. Because you know...puppy.
We don't know how, but the house looks like it has exploded. It's only 10 am.
We repeat the Charlie/Bree needing both of our attention for another hour.
Time to feed Bree. She rejects all of our lunch offers. But then she gets hangry. So we settle for a chocolate wrap.
For some reason, it takes her less time to get out the door than the rest of the kids. She goes to preschool.
Bryan comes back. It's now noon. He brings with him another coffee for us. Because...we can't live otherwise.
We let Charlie out...again. He gets lunch. Finishes in 2 minutes. And now he's BORED. He chews up everything. Tissue is his favorite.
We have 2 hours of "peace" to work.
Bryan goes to get Bree. Drops Bree off at home. Heads out to get Mackenzie with Charlie. Comes home and we scramble to get ready for whatever after school activities we stupidly sign up for.
Suddenly, it's 4:30 pm. I haven't even thought about dinner. Should we order take out? Or is grilled cheese ok?
I finish work at 5 pm (thank God). Bryan manages to finish what he needs between running around. I cook dinner. If I am on the ball, most of the time, we're having meat, veggies, and rice. The kids are thrilled (sarcasm noted). They ask for candy. I say no. Because...dinner is soon. I am the worst.mom.ever.
We feed Charlie dinner. Finishes in 2 minutes. He's bored again.
The kids play outside if it's not raining. Or they have friends come over and play inside and make such a mess that I can no longer see the floor upstairs. They are loud, they are screaming, they are running. The dog bites, because he thinks we're all trying to play with him. The kids are fighting and crying and we are just trying to triage who needs us most. This results in more screaming and crying and pushing and hitting and talking about using kind tones and kind words and respecting the nos. We are not sure why we bother, because clearly, after the 100th time of having these talks, IT'S NOT WORKING.
The kids are so thrilled about dinner, it takes them an hour to eat 10 bites. No amount of soy sauce speeds up this process. I am looking at the clock. Countdown to bed time is on. I yell about 20 times during dinner. It doesn't work. I threaten to put them to bed. I get one bite out of that threat. I threaten to take away the iPad, I get 2 more bites. I try to bribe them with a treat. Sometimes, we pretend they are dogs and they'll come barking for a bite or two. We look ridiculous Mostly, I just yell some more.
Dinner is over. They ask for candies again. I say no. Because we don't have sugar before bed. I am the worst.mom.ever.
Sometimes Bryan is off to work at this point. I am at home, with 3 kids, a dog, and my mom. My mom cleans up. I am yelling at the kids to put on their PJ's.
Remember how the morning went with changing the kids? We double the time at bed time. They want one more snack, drink, video, tv show - anything but bed. I scream some more. At the kids and at Charlie, who at this point is now chewing on shoes and toys and paper.
I need wine.
I attempt to put all 3 kids down in 3 different rooms. It's a giant fail. I give 2 kids the iPad, so I can put one kid down in peace. It takes 20 minutes and a lot of negotiating to put the first kid down (Al). He settles well. He sings on the top of his lungs for the next 30 minutes on his own ("Tomorrow! Tomorrow! I love you! Tomorrow!") I leave him.
I go put Bree down. She has to be touching me AT ALL TIMES. So now I have to lay with her. If I'm lucky, she's out in 30 minutes. I'm now 50 minutes into bed time.
I go put Mack down. By now I have nothing else to give. She complains (rightfully so). I yell a little. Then I feel absolute guilt. I give what I can - which is only 5 more minutes. I close the door.
I open the fridge, I open a bottle of wine. I hear the door open upstairs. One of the girls is up. I calmly ask her to go back to sleep. It doesn't work. I raise my voice a little. Still doesn't work. I yell. She goes back. The other one comes out. We repeat this cycle about 3-5 more times. I'm now 2 hours into bed time and I am wondering if there's enough wine in the house for me.
It's 10:30 pm.
Bryan texts: one the way home, need anything?
Me: Yes, sleeping children and more booze please.
And so, we repeat this 5 more times during the week. And then it's the weekend. And that's a WHOLE OTHER STORY.
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