A Long Stream of Interrupted Time

I remember when I would take entire weekends (yes, 72 straight hours) and do nothing. Do nothing but laze around in jammies, spend 'quality time' with the hubby, nap and eat. All while lounging on my clean couch, covered by a blankie in my clean livingroom.

Then I had children.

Let me clarify, then I had two boys.

Two, energetic, verbal, active, crazy, imaginative, demanding boys.

Now I spend every weekend, and indeed everyday, living in a long, stream of COMPLETELY interrupted time.
(Got interrupted now to pass a spoon to the baby who has decided the dried noodles I had for lunch are suddenly very important to lick.)

Taking the obligatory, post delivery potty run, I am interrupted most mornings by a screaming baby. He has decided the first thing he should see every morning is a sippy cup with his milk. (Interrupted again by a screamer who wants to help me type. Can't let him as he has noodle goop on his hands.)

Making any meal is always punctuated by one of the following: a pan being thrown at the dog and/or a cookie sheet becoming a cymbal on which to beat with a wooden spoon stolen from the dishwasher.
(Gotta break, baby has now discovered how to climb ON the table.)

Even the dog gets in the act. The furry monster decides he needs a drink on the other side of the closed door, just as I have folded myself into the warm bed. Now he sits, shaking and whining to get back upstairs to nap away from the baby. He can wait. This blog can't.

One would think I could be uninterrupted while my older son uses the loo. As we worked for too many years to count to make the potty a successful place, we are trying to let him be as independent as possible. Of course, that means just when I think I can get something cooked/cleaned/straightened I hear the plaintive wail from upstairs, "MOOOOOOOOM! I'm DOOOOOONE!"

There is only one safe haven for me. And it is only safe after little fellas are asleep. It is my sanctuary. My small Universe of uninterruptedness. It is the bathroom. I have a little basket with magazines/books and can often read AN ENTIRE CHAPTER in the time it takes to...well...take care of business that cannot possibly be interrupted.

One day I will own my own home. One day I'll have a bathroom with one of those padded seats. You know, the kind you can sit on for hours and leave no lines. One day. Of course, by the time that day will come I'll be writing about recalcitrant teens who I have to chase down just to make eye contact.

Interrupted again. The baby is banging his face against the front door. He likes to lick the screen.








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