So school starts in exactly 10 days. Do you think I am counting? Yes, I’m practically counting the minutes. Look, I adore my children, but I am with them roughly 13 hours a day–anytime they aren’t sleeping–and I’m mostly with them alone. They spend the majority of that time fighting over the iPad (even when it’s in “iPad jail” on top of the mantle, which it is, A LOT), yelling, doing the opposite of what I ask, complaining about food in front of them, begging for everything and anything (yesterday Max wanted me to buy him some sort of Ninja weapon called a shurikan and seriously wouldn’t let it go for an hour), sitting on me, holding on to my leg and continuously asking me for water, milk, an apple, a cracker, a wipe of a butt, a pen, some paper, chapstick, candy, a piece of bread, etc etc. By then end of the day, they could probably be on the front lawn, nude and hitting each other with loaves of French bread in front of 20 neighbors and I’d be all, “eh, that’s okay….no discipline is needed here.”
So since said children are with me 13 hours per day, it stands to reason that they go with me everywhere. Where to yesterday, you ask? The friggin gynecologist. Like I didn’t humiliate myself enough to give birth to these little people?
What was supposed to be a consultation on an IUD, turned out to be a full on insertion of the IUD. Remember the whole vasectomy debacle from this post? Yeah, so this is where we ended up on that front. Because it’s not enough that I spent 9 months baking each child and pushing them out of my vagina–almost dying with one, but okay–apparently now I have to have a foreign object inserted into my uterus for 5 years.
So anyhoo, we arrive and they announce that since we talked about it 5 months ago at my annual appointment, I can have it inserted now. Cue two children staring up at me with curiosity. Thankfully, the nurses took Max to the nurses station (where he had them all in hysterics, by the way). Zoe, however, refused to leave my side, so we strapped her in the stroller next to the table. So there I am, making casual conversation with my doctor, feet up in stirrups, while Zoe cranes her head as far as it will go to see behind the sheet. I’m sure if she could talk, she’d be all, “Hey Momma, what the sam hill is goin on behind that blue sheet?”
So I guess that’s just a typical day in the life of a stay at home mom I guess. Don’t ask me about the scary metal instruments they brought out for the procedure. We can talk about that another time.