Today I am a Hooker

I got your attention with that title, didn't I?

I do love my kids. I love being a mom. I love my husband. I have terrific friends and family. I have so many good things going on in my life that I often forget to tell/share/blog about them. Why would I? That isn't any fun. I'd rather be living and enjoying them than blogging about them. :) But today decided to make a happy post.

Today we played hooky (which is why I am a "hooker" today). Please don't call the truant officer on me or report me to the police as a prostitute. The kids were still sleeping and my alarm went off and I turned it off all the way instead of just hitting snooze. The birds chirped as I lay in bed (Mr. Momicidal leaves for work early) and I honestly thought, for a second, that it was Saturday. I should've known that it wasn't because the house is never that quiet on an actual sleep-in day.

As I disappointedly got up from the bed and thought about what I had on hand for breakfast (not much--I'm headed to the store later) and how we'd have to hurry to get everyone out the door and then how I had so much to do around the house and how my day would be fractured into 20-minute pockets of productivity, sprinkled in among two round-trip school runs (drop off then home, pick up then home) and other errands and I felt physically sick.

I went upstairs to wake my younger son, since my older son had snuck down into our bed sometime in the wee hours of the morning and was sleeping like an angel (Isn't it amazing how peaceful and cute they look when they're asleep? Much like a sweetly sleeping tiger who will eat your face off Siegfried-and-Roy-style when they're awake?) in our bed. I tripped on a wooden train. I impaled the arch of my foot on a Lego. The dog barked at me. I pressed on. I realized that my legs are starting to resemble a cactus and that I really need to vacuum the stairs. Again, I perservered. Even when I opened the door to their room, which irritatingly mocked me with the endless sound of the "doot doot" [A kid's sleep sound machine/projector that screeches out "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" and other songs on repeat all night long. My kids love that thing and, even though my relationship with the manufacturer's returns department documents that the lifespan of the unit is only about as long as that of a tissue paper lifeboat, they have affectionately dubbed it the "doot doot" because it sounds like--to the tune of "Twinkle, Twinkle" remember--"Doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doooot..."] and smelled something horrible, I went in.

Let me back up a bit and explain that way too much of my time as a parent has been spent worrying about, dealing with, coaxing, and seeking professional help regarding my childrens' poop. My older son is what my husband calls the "poop Johnny Appleseed" and holds it in until he cannot hold it any more and then, little by little, has accidents and/or goes on the toilet JUST A LITTLE. Everywhere. I always say that ANY poop on clothes or your body or an item other than in a toilet or diaper is too much poop. So this behavior drives me crazy. I constantly think that I'm smelling or seeing poop somewhere. As part of his autistic and sensory issues he just doesn't want to poop. At all. He thinks that he can just stop doing it. As you and I both know, he can't.  Things are much better for him now, but I still buy enemas in bulk and I still keep extra underwear with me. My younger son has gut issues as well. His are more "free flowing" than his brother's, however. They are both potty trained during the day, but my younger son still wears a pull-up or something at night. He usually just pees in it a little bit overnight, but today he was an overacheiver.  So yet *again* my day was beginning with a poop situation and I hadn't even had my coffee.

I opened the door and he greets me with a huge hug and a sweet smile and announces,  "I'm very disgusting on my bottom!" Sigh. At that moment, any thoughts that I had entertained about playing hooky were cemented. We were staying home to clean the house (and my son's derriere) and to have a stress-free day. I know that they *should* have gone to school. I know that there will be days in the not-so-distant future that I will be pleading to send them to school. But I also missed my sweet (albeit stinky) boys.

We are reading books and we made homemade macaroni and cheese for lunch (my older son said wasn't nearly as good as Kraft Mac from a box). I am cleaning things only to have them uncleaned and possibly even become messier than they were 5 minutes ago. I have not even brushed my teeth yet (I will, I will) and I still have cactus legs but I'm loving my guys. I feel like I'm always nagging them (and myself) to "hurry up" or "do this" and "don't do that" and today I'd had enough. I'm learning about whether or not bats breastfeed their babies (Yes, even some kids of male bats) and how many licks it "really, not with that cartoon owl" takes to get to the center of a (mini) Tootsie Pop (More than 50 plus a few bites).

I know that later this weekend I will probably regret not cleaning this house more today and that I should be sending in job resumes [Backstory: I am an adjunct instructor of sociology--which I love--and, as such, am subject to horrendously low compensation and an unpredictable work schedule that often includes last-minute course cancellations. I can't work a typical 9-to-5'er because of my kids' school transportstion needs, but need more money and a steady paycheck.] but I'm enjoying this right now. Everyone should be a hooker sometimes.