Two kids were playing Minecraft (the game that sucks the life out of them and leaves hollow zombies in its place). A fight ensues, with kicking and scratching, both are crying and screaming. I tell them they're done and I have nothing else to say, they did it to themselves.
One kid says "I'm hungry, go to the store and get donuts!"
"Sorry, I don't have time, I am trying to get dressed to go to the doctor. Pepere (my dad) is coming over to babysit you so be good."
I throw in pop tarts and toast.
I run upstairs, throw on some clothes.
Little man wakes up coughing and crying.
Pepere enters the door, things pop out of the toaster, kids want their food NOW.
Little man is now screaming because he clues in that I'm leaving.
Bella demands that I do her hair, I say I don't have time, she starts crying about her hair, so I grab a brush in one hand and butter in the other for her toast. She wants sugar and cinnamon too, I try to not sprinkle cinnamon on her hair as I multitask.
I pour chocolate milk into at least three cups, but I'm not counting. My dad stands helpless as I slam the fridge shut, open the pantry, slam the pantry shut, open the fridge, dump, pour, sprinkle, all with a pretend smile on my face.
I haven't done my makeup and my eyes are puffy and baggy, revealing my sleep difficulties.
I pick up screaming flailing little man and realize his diaper has leaked and he is soaked with pee. Lay him down, change him, sit him at the counter naked and wailing. Run upstairs for clothes for him, run downstairs and slap them on him.
My dad is still standing there helpless.
I get four kids their breakfast and tell my dad to just make sure they don't kill each other fighting, oh and have fun everyone!
I grab my makeup bag and purse, and run out the door to the car. Whoops, I forgot my shoes and my car keys, run back in. Baby is screaming and starts choking on his food, I run over and he is gagging up mucus from his cold, mixed with pop tart. My poor dad says"is he ok?" I grab a napkin and extract the goo, clean him up, tell oldest child she's in charge of making little man happy, and run out the door again. This time I have my flip flops on, even though it's 35 degrees outside. I'm in a hot sweat anyway. Little man is still wailing as I close the door behind me. And the kids are playing Minecraft again. Oh well, we will see if they survive.
Sit in the car in the garage to do some makeup, a moment of quiet to put on at least eye liner to fake looking like I'm awake.
Get to doctors office, there's no close spot so I have to park way down the row, get out and hike to the building, laughing that I actually made it. Then I get in and get weighed and find out I've broken the dastardly 200 mark. I wouldn't normally share this fact, but it's so honestly overwhelming and real that I figure women need to know they're not alone if they hit this point. I tell the nurse I will pay her a dollar to write down 199, she just laughs and doesn't.
I see my doctor and tell her "I'm done. Don't know if I can make it to February. "
Hahaha because what choice do I have at this point?!
She laughs and asks if I'm still exercising. I tell her no, I've given up. She understands, she's had four babies herself, which is one reason I like her. I vow to not gain any more weight for the remainder of my pregnancy (that's at least 16 weeks more.)
I walk out to my car on the far side of the parking lot thinking, I guess I needed to park clear out here, in fact I should probably just walk home.
I contemplate taking the day off from being a mom and not driving home just then, but remember my poor dad is at home with my four freaking out kids. I have pity and go home, to find that miracles do happen, they are all contentedly playing together and dad has done the dishes and vacuumed. Wow. Ok I can handle this for now...