July 27, 2007 | Mama Smith

the unwelcomed visitor

What began on Sunday evening as a luxurious, relaxing start to the week – grilling with friends, sipping wine, laughing late into the evening – quickly transitioned into a high-strung, unbearably chaotic mothering week.

It is Friday afternoon. And all I want to do at 5pm is scarf down a sandwich and crawl into bed.

I remember two years ago. How different Friday afternoons felt. The door to work would swing shut behind me and a night of anticipation was ahead, just waiting to be indulged in.

After spending the day with a toddler clinging to your leg whining for more crackers or water or toys or whatever else he can think of and an infant refusing to be put down for more than a few minutes. The noise reaching psychosis-inducing levels between cries and whines. The heat causing you all to strip down to diapers or a sports bra. The nap schedule being totally off leaving everyone cranky and irritable. Nothing sounds sweeter than lying down in a cool, dark, silent room and leaving the day behind at 7pm.

Why does “this” type of week still seem to jump up and surprise me? Practically knocking my breath out and leave me wondering how in the world anyone survives the whining, the tears, the spilled milk, the general unpredictability of small kiddos. “That” type of week. I feel like I should be over the surprise of this unwelcomed visitor. That I should be chummy pals with him by now. Expecting the stress he’ll bring. Anticipating the quirks he has. Waiting on the front porch, knowing he’s bound to arrive sooner or later. That I should be a more seasoned host, able to laugh at our differences. Me, with my desire for peace, ease, predictability. And him with his love of chaos, excessive tears and the amazing ability to throw everything off kilter – including nap schedules, stress levels and any previous feelings of sanity.

But we are still not friends. We do not understand each others differences. His visits are still unbearable. I am always ready to toss him out the door come Friday afternoon and have my home back.

At this very moment, he is causing Brighton to continually sneak off and run down the hall screaming and banging on Levi’s door. Levi, who screamed for 30 minutes before falling asleep just 10 minutes ago. Levi, who is now awake from Brighton’s knocks.

“This” week needs to leave now. I am officially giving him the boot. We’ll see if he actually picks up on the not-so-subtle hint. He doesn’t seem to be the type to take social cues very well though.

Monday’s breakfast. The only carefully prepared meal of the week.