Autopilot

Every single time people learn that I have four children I always get the same reaction. "Whoa I have two kids and I feel like that is a lot.” "How do you do it?' "You are a saint!” Even my mother says "God knows who He gives many children to, because not everyone can handle it". Having four children is a lot of work, but we can't tap out after eight hours. There is no one to give them back to if they've worn us out, because we are the parents!

My husband, Bobby, and I each work 40 hours a week, sometimes more if we stay for overtime. We have our schedules worked out so that someone is always home with the kids. We work our 40 hours in three days. Two 16 hour days and an eight hour day. We only have one full day off together, one morning, and one evening. We don't see each other for fours days after that except maybe in passing. It makes it for a very long and lonely two days when I'm home alone with the kids. On those days its as if we are single parents, but that is the sacrifice we have to make right now to save on the cost of daycare.

Although its not ideal having to work two 16 hour shifts every week, I get to be home for four whole days. With four small children ages four, three, three, and one I need to be home all day so that our day runs smoothly. If not its as if I'm racing against the clock. There just isn't enough hours in the day to work full time, come home to take care of the kids, make meals, do house work, run, errands, or go to any appointments. This past Thursday was the perfect example of why its easier for one of us to be home all day.

I worked 7x3 shift, and my husband had to come in for his 3x11 shift. Instead of finding a sitter for the hour and half it takes him to get to work and me to get home he brought the kids in with him. He pulled right up to the front entrance and waited for me to come out. He briefed me on how their morning went, gave me a quick kiss on the lips, said goodbye to the kids, and went inside. I sat in the car till I saw the mass exodus of day shift staff. I then ran inside and punched out. I drove his car home and he would take my car that night. 

On my way home I stopped at Target to pick up an order I placed that morning.. I pulled into the driveway by 3:30 pm, and brought the baby inside the house first. My oldest unbuckled his seat belt and got himself out of his booster seat. I got the twins out of their car seats and they walked inside on their own while I gathered their tablets, cups, diaper bag, and my work bag. Then I had to run out two more times to get my Target order out of the trunk. Once inside I put a movie on for the kids, put everything I purchased away, and changed out of my uniform. I changed three different diapers, went around the house with the laundry basket and picked up any dirty clothes I could find, and made the kids popcorn. An hour had passed since I got home. I sat in the living room with the kids while they ate their popcorn and I thought to myself "This is going to be a nice relaxing rainy evening with the kids".

No sooner than I thought it everything went to shit. Julianna started to choke on a piece of popcorn, and without skipping a beat I picked her up and slapped her back twice dislodging it. Not only did the popcorn come out, but so did all the popcorn she had already ate mixed with chocolate milk. There was throw up all over her, on the couch, throw pillow, the blanket, the tablet, the floor, and even on the side of the coffee table. It was literally everywhere. I brought her into the bathroom and stripped her down to her diaper. I rinsed her clothes off in the shower, and then cleaned the tub, because there was chunks of throw up in it. As I started to take her diaper off I realized she was pooped so I had to close it back up and grab the baby wipes from the living room. Once she was bathed and in her pajamas, I had to tackle the living room. 

I had hoped Roary, our dog, would have cleaned up the chunks like she does every other time, but the mixture of chocolate milk and popcorn was even too gross for her to eat. I wiped up the floor with paper towels, wiped the tablet with Clorox wipes, and rinsed the chunks off the blanket before putting it inside the laundry basket. I then got my Bissell Revolution Carpet cleaner (best investment I've ever made) out of the closet to clean the couch with. As soon as I turned it on Julianna started to freak out crying. To comfort her I put her on my hip and held her with one arm while I cleaned with the other. After five minutes, I looked at her and said "Sorry Julianna, you're on your own." I put her down on the floor and cleaned as she yelled at the top of her lungs. Of course with all the chaos that had ensued I couldn't just clean the section that had throw up on it. My OCD and anxiety were in full gear and before I knew it I had cleaned the whole damn sectional couch. 

At that point it was 5:30 pm and I needed to figure out dinner. I changed the twins again and made a couple cans of Chef Boyardee. While the boys ate I took the trash out, checked the mail, emptied out the Bissell machine, and filled the mop bucket with bleach and water. Once the boys were done eating they went down to the basement to play and I fed Julianna. Then it was back to work. I swept and mopped the hallway, living room, kitchen, and dining room. I unloaded and loaded the dishwasher, cleaned the sink, and wiped down the table. At one point in the middle of my cleaning frenzy I walked into the bathroom and my four year old was standing on the toilet seat naked looking down into the toilet. “Mami I’m trying to watch my poop come out” I shook my head and said “Sit down and poop or get out!” Then I closed the door and proceeded to clean. 

It was 7pm on the dot by the time I was done cleaning. At this point it was past the usual tub time, and I was too tired to give the boys baths. I put on a movie for the kids in hopes that it would wind them down, but after half an hour they lost interest and decided to play with their toys instead. I took that opportunity to run down to the basement and start a load of laundry. When I came back up I brushed everyone's teeth, changed their diapers again and put pajamas on them. I looked at the clock and it was 8 pm. Perfect timing!

 I marched them all down the hall and into my bedroom. I laid in the middle, with two kids on either side of me. We attempted to watch a movie, but as always that was a failed attempt. Two tried to watch the movie while the other two kept wrestling each other.  Over and over again I told them to stop, making empty threats until someone started crying, because they got hurt. I lost my cool, turned off the tv and announced it was bedtime. I played relaxing bedtime music from my phone, and one by one they drifted into a dream. 

When everyone was finally asleep I crawled out of bed, let Roary out, collected all the tablets, and put them on the chargers. I realized I didn't eat dinner so I preheated the oven and jumped into the shower. After my shower I baked a pizza, sat out in the living room and watched a show on Netflix while I folded laundry. It was past 10pm by the time I ate so at that point I decided to watch another episode and wait for Bobby to get home from work. 

I am far from a saint. I lose my cool a lot.  I should have more patience with my kids, but that's something I'm working on everyday. As far as how do we do it? We just get up everyday and do it. Its automatic now. We are programmed to do so. I show up for my kids even when I don't want to show up for myself. It's funny because before having kids I would be dead after working back to back 16 hour shifts. Now I do it like it’s nothing. I just go into autopilot mode from the moment I open my eyes in the morning till I finally go to bed at night. Everyday of our lives is a double day. If it's not work, it's home with the kids. And honestly most days taking care of the kids is more work than my actual job. 

Luckily I have a my husband. On the days we are home together we are an awesome team. We tag team the kids and chores around the house. We are so in sync with one another when it comes to the kids that I don't have to ask him to do this or that while I do x,y, and z.  We take turns letting each other sleep in, or take breathers from the kids. I get to go to store by myself some days, and he gets to just drive around. I wish we had more days together. Sometimes I wish I was a stay at home mom so he could work the typical eight hours a day five days a week and be home with us by 3:30pm. But who can afford to have one income with a family of six? We truly are lucky to have the flexibility to make our schedules work in our favor. With four days off every week I like to call myself a part time SAHM.

On the tough days where I'm so overwhelmed from the constant fighting, crying, and demands for food and drinks I want to lock myself in my room and hide under the blankets. Instead I remind myself that this is just a season. Before I know it this season will have passed and they won't be so dependent of me, they'll want to do things on their own without my help. If homeschooling doesn't work for us they'll be in school for 7-8 hours a day.  They'll have friends, activities,  and sports to keep them busy. I have to enjoy the present season, while they fight over who is going to sit on my lap, ask me to kiss their boo boos when they are hurt, and celebrate me when I walk in the front door. Take in all hugs and kisses while I can, because I know someday they'll be "too old" or "too cool" for them.