I realized I’m a Drive-Thru Mom today while in Target with the kids. I have become the mom that buys her 7 year old a toy just to get her to be quiet. And feeds her toddler snacks for an hour because the $50 worth of toys weighing down my diaper bag will not suffice in keeping him from pulling out and ripping apart the unpaid-for groceries in the cart, but snacks will.
I didn’t want to be that mom. The mom that forgets her reusable bags in the car and is too frazzled to go out and get them, so I fill up my cart with 20 lbs of plastic that will live in a landfill forever. The mom that buys snackpak sizes of food because for some reason the stuff gets eaten if its in its own cute individual little wasteful bag, but not if I dole it out from – heaven-forbid – the larger, cheaper full size bag.
I’ve been trying to give myself a break, but I really don’t like this mom I’ve become. I’m in full-on survival mode right now. Mat reminds me that I’m 9 months pregnant. That I’m averaging about 3 hours of sleep a night. I try to remember that I actually have two kids already. Being the only functioning mom of my step-daughter is a lot of work, but for some reason I discount it in my head, I guess because biologically she’s not mine. I think sometimes other people do too. But I AM her mom, I have two kids, and a third very very soon, and it is a lot of effing work.
I’ve been meaning to try cloth diapers, I really really want to and have done hours of research on which ones are best. But as I look at the basket full of three loads of clean laundry that hasn’t been folded yet, I wonder how the hell I will manage to also wash loads of diapers every two days. My excuse for my laundry is that I have to fold it on the dinner table, because its the only place that Noah can’t seem to reach and destroy it. Between breakfast for baby, breakfast for kid, breakfast for mom, snack for kid, snack for baby, and lunch, there is always some sort of goop on said table. To actually get to my laundry, I have to ensure that the table will be cleared and sprayed down for a short period of time, and then that owners of the clothing will put it away in a timely fashion so that we can actually eat dinner. Does this even make sense to anyone but me? I’m not sure.
I wanted to be the mom that made delicious, homemade, wholesome meals for my baby and my family. But I’m so friggin’ tired by the end of the day that a frozen lasagna or fish sticks seems to be the best solution these days. And any time I try to introduce a wayward whole grain or “exciting” new vegetable, all I get are huffs, puffs, complaints, and refusals.
I wanted to make Noah his meals. Do you know how hard it is to feed a dairy- and soy- allergic, meat- and vegetable- averse toddler? I’ve spent hours and dollars shopping for and preparing delicious and organic meals, to have him throw just about everything on the floor and cry in protest. So now I buy two or three varieties (2 or 3 out of 20 that DON’T have any cheese or milk or cream) of organic toddler meals from Whole Foods that cost about $3.50 a piece and my only consolation is that at least I didn’t spend two hours making the crap and cleaning up just for him to chuck it across the room.
I wanted to make Noah his squeezy fruit snacks at home because he loves the squeezy pouches and yet they cost an arm and a leg and fill up the landfills. So I pureed a bunch of (expensive organic) fruit and vegetables and found the perfect reusable squeezy container after lots of research and he tried one batch and loved it. Score! The next day I served the other half of the EXACT SAME THING he had eaten the day before and he cried when I tried to get him to eat, then proceeded to squeeze it all out onto the floor. So. Back to store bought squeezy pouches that I can actually get him to eat.
What the eff am I doing wrong? Why can I not get this together? I see some of my mom friends, even some who work, who grow their own herbs and make meals that kids actually eat and knit blankets and allow only eco-wood toys in their house and I don’t see them in this zombie-like state of surrender that I find myself in.
Chik Fil-A? Fine. Even though I hate fast food and am appalled at this company’s recent moral judgements, if it will get someone to shut up then FINE. More wasteful, toxic plastic crap? If it will buy me some peace for 10 minutes then WHATEVER. Three hours of stupid tween angst shows? It might rot your brain but I might flip out soon…so go ahead.
Ugh. Worst mom ever.