My Personal Paparazzi

It's 11:30 p.m. on a Thursday night and I'm just getting started on my weekly blog.* It's not that I don't want to write more often, but once a week is about all I can manage right now. The kids are finally in bed and I just dried the last dish from dinner. It's not like my day is completely filled with activities or errands. To be honest, I didn't accomplish very much at all today. I started a few chores and paid a few bills. I remembered to brush my teeth this morning. My day was filled with assisting little people: making meals, cleaning up after the meals, combing the house for a lost toy, helping S sound out words while she read, changing diapers, kissing boo-boos, chasing after Bailey when she snagged a doll head from the playroom, and a few other tasks I can't recall at the moment. Some days, I am a rock star homemaker. Most days, I can't figure out where the time went and why I can never get all the laundry done. Then it occurred to me. I can't walk through the house without being stopped to do something else. It is nearly impossible to start and finish a task with two little kids and two big dogs constantly following me around the house. I can't remember the last time I was able to walk from one end of the house to the other without my canine shadows, a kid hanging on my leg, or hearing my name called as I pass the living room. I am so popular at my house. Everyone seeks me out and wants to be near me. I hear Mommy!! so much that I've considered changing my name to Penelope Jane Von Unterhosen just to change things up a bit.

I love how celebrities complain about the lack of privacy in their off-camera lives. They lament about being ambushed by paparazzi when they just want to enjoy their private island beach vacay or buy another designer handbag. Celebrities are people too, right? They just want to go about their daily business in peace. You're preaching to the choir, baby. I wouldn't have any unopened mail stacked up on my kitchen table or two inches of natural hair color showing if I had a little privacy. What I wouldn't give for a few extra private moments in the shower to shave BOTH legs. I get one leg done and I hear a little voice scream from the other side of the door. I rush out of the shower, conditioner still in my hair, in a panic, convinced that someone broke a bone or is bleeding from their head, only to discover the scream was in protest over whose turn it was to play "teacher" for the stuffed animal classroom. It happens all the time.

I remember my mom getting so upset when we called for her while she was in the bathroom. She used to say, "I swear someone put a sensor on the toilet seat because you always call for me the moment I sit down!" I thought she was exaggerating. Now, I think she was on to something. As soon as I close the bathroom door, someone calls for me. It's like the very moment I enter the bathroom, the kids realize they are dying of thirst or absolutely must get the board game down from the shelf or the world will cease to exist. B will stand outside the door, gnashing her teeth and wailing that her mother abandoned her. She'll try to reach for me by sticking her fingers under the door. It's very dramatic. When I open the door, B immediately stops crying and says, "Hi mommy! You found me!" Then, she merrily runs off to play.

That's not the only time I am desperately needed. My kids seek me out anytime I answer the phone, sit in front of the computer, open a book (other than a kid's book), or watch the season finale of my favorite show, just to name a few. Basically, anytime I am doing something that I want to do. I've tried to reason with them. I'll say, "Mommy is going to [insert activity here] now. Is there anything you need before I start?" The answer is usually no. They lie. I've also tried to sneak off when they are distracted and not call attention to my absence. They know. They always know. I'll wait for nap time, but if I'm in the shower, I swear I can hear the kids yelling for me and I wind up checking on them anyway. People tell me to just ignore them. They have to learn patience. I'm afraid the one time I ignore their calls, the headlines will read:

Kids Burn Down House While Mother In Shower.

To add to my frustration, the reverse happens. When I'm the one calling for the kids, they are never around. It's like they suddenly go deaf. Even when I'm in the same room, I have to shout their names or clap my hands to get them out of their trance. I have to repeat myself constantly. S will get so involved in whatever she is doing that a satellite could crash through the roof and she wouldn't even notice. It's unreal. She can hear the crinkle of a candy wrapper from a mile away when I'm trying to sneak a piece from her leftover Halloween candy stash, but not the sound of my voice mere inches from her ear. When we are at home, B hangs all over me. When we are in public, I practically have to handcuff her to me to get her to stay close. I just don't get it.

I know what you all will say. Enjoy the attention now, because one day, they'll grow up and leave you or prefer their friends' company over yours ... or some other depressing, guilt-laden truth. I have noticed that S will spend more time alone in her room than with me. She is starting to figure out how to entertain herself and take care of her own needs, like picking out her clothes or getting her own breakfast. There are times when I seek her out just to chat or get a hug. Don't get me wrong, I want her to be self-sufficient, but not so much right now that she doesn't need me around. On the other hand, B is still very dependent on me, so S's newfound desire for more independence is appreciated. I don't mind helping my kids out with anything. It's my job right now. I like brushing their hair and reading stories. I don't mind cutting their food and tying shoes. I love their little "thank yous" and hugs that follow. I love their excited cheers when I come back from a rare solo outing. I miss them when they are not around. Granted, it takes longer than a bathroom break to miss them, but if I'm away from them for a few hours, I really miss them. My main complaint is about their impeccable timing... and a little about needing some "me time."

In a completely random conversation, S asked me if people get bathroom breaks in heaven. (I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.) I told her I didn't know, but I guess we'll find out when we get there. Luckily, she was satisfied with my answer. I hope you get bathroom breaks in heaven. I hope you get your own personal toilet without sensors in the seat to alert the angels that you just sat down. That sounds like heaven to me.




*I started the blog last night but couldn't keep my eyes open past the first paragraph. I started writing again this morning at 8 A.M. It took 3 hours to finish due to 26 interruptions. Yes, I counted. I really hope you enjoyed reading it!