It’s 5 o’clock.
The baby is crying.
My toddler is crawling up my leg.
And the dog is pacing.
It’s time to eat, and apparently, everyone knows it. We could be having the best time playing, singing, and dancing. But, it seems that at 5 o’clock, every day, the witching hour begins. My family can switch from Mr. Hyde to Dr. Jekyll in a blink of an eye. Each of them is pulling me in a different direction. None of them can speak. It’s whining, crying, and whimpering – while I do my best to guess what is being asked of me. And what do you know, my husband walks in, “hi honey, what’s for dinner?” No matter how much I plan in advance, this chaos is unavoidable. Someone always needs me. I wish I had go-go gadget arms: bottle in the baby’s mouth, cutting up bite size pieces for the toddler, stirring dinner on the stove, filling the dog’s water bowl, and of course, a glass of wine in mommy’s hand.
Last week, I might have had one of the worst witching hours yet. Even though I fed the baby just an hour before, he magically needed another few ounces, simply because it was 5. I frantically put together an unplanned bottle, while trying to watch my oldest in his high chair, happily eating his dinner. I turn to put the bottle in the baby’s mouth, turn back to toddler, and see his finger up his nose. No big deal – it’s kinda his new thing. A few seconds later, he’s sniffing liking crazy. I know he’s not sick, this is strange. Then…CLICK. He just shoved corn up his nose, he’s trying to dig it out. I pull the bottle out of the baby’s mouth…..WAAAAAAAA, instantly. Ok, I’ve got this. I’ll get Milo to blow his nose. Easy, right? Ummmm, Milo doesn’t know how to blow his nose. In fact, he doesn’t really like his face touched in general. I grab a tissue, and try showing how to blow one’s nose. He thinks it’s hilarious! Your turn, Milo. He’s screeching, and fighting me, as I approach him with the tissue. Mind you, the baby is still screaming in the background. I pin Milo’s head to the back of the highchair, and finally we get the corn out. SIGH. No time to relax – back to the baby.
After they’ve both eaten, they are still extremely needy and whiny. What the hell? UGH. Ok, let’s change their diapers. Yep, two under two means about 12 diapers a day. It’s super fun. Not to mention, trying to change a toddler’s diaper is like wrestling an alligator. Milo was particularly aggressive on the changing table. So, down to the floor we went. He’s kicking like a maniac. I’ve so far lost my patience at this point, I’m screaming, he’s screaming, baby’s still crying. The dog wants back inside now. While I’m trying to get his pants back on, I see a yellow bump, hanging from his nose. Another damn piece of corn. Moments later…..in walks my husband, “what is going on? I can hear the screaming from outside!??!”
Moms, they came up with the term “it’s 5 o’clock somewhere” for a reason. Hell, it’s definitely no happy hour, but it certainly calls for a drink.