There are days when I feel like a competent parent and an okay human being. SOME days. Then there are days when I question how I managed to leave the hospital with four tiny humans. Today definitely fell into the latter category.
It had been quite some time since I tackled the task of washing sheets and making beds. Perhaps since the last ice age? With one queen bed, two sets of bunk beds, and a crib, that’s a total of 2 + 4, plus the 500 pillow pets and 15 mismatched socks I found hiding in the crevices. In short, it’s a lot of bedding to manage.
I usually avoid this chore like I would avoid exercise or volunteer committees. I was just adding the finishing touches to my three-year-old’s bottom bunk when my eight-year-old piped up, “Mommy, can you make my bed too?”
“Of course, sweetie! Your bed is next,” I replied, feeling proud of myself for a brief moment—until I attempted the ascent to the top bunk, which felt like climbing Mount Everest. The ladder seemed to mock me, whispering, “Look at the big one struggling to climb us. Seriously, she can’t even manage that.”
Reaching the top, I was met with a shocking sight. It was like a scene from a horror movie—no sheets, 15 books crammed under her pillow, and a mattress that was nothing more than a toddler bed pad split into three sections. It was thin and I thought, “Oh my God, I am the worst parent.”
“Ummm, you don’t have any sheets. How long have you been without sheets?” I inquired.
“I don’t know. A while, I think,” she said nonchalantly.
“Why on earth are you sleeping on those flimsy bed pads? What happened?” I pressed.
“I think when you were fixing the beds last time, you couldn’t finish? I don’t know. I don’t remember. It was a while ago,” she replied, shrugging.
Her memoir, titled “I Don’t Remember. It Was a While Ago,” is bound to be a bestseller among parents.
The only item missing was a metal cup for her to rattle against the bed guard. Meanwhile, my son’s unused top bunk was lavishly decked out with a double mattress, an eggshell mattress topper, sheets, two pillows, and several blankets—everything a ghostly resident would need for a good night’s sleep.
I spent the next two hours dragging mattresses, fluffing pillows, and rearranging bedding. I tucked corners and adorned my daughter’s bed with the softest sheets I could find. How did I overlook this for weeks—no, months? Right, the ladder.
In the end, I gave kisses at the foot of the bed. No one puts baby in a corner, except maybe in the corner of an unmade, prison-like bunk bed.
On a positive note, I walked away with newfound appreciation for my daughter. She never complained about her lack of sheets or that her mattress pads were in disarray. She simply climbed up to her desolate bed, kissed us goodnight, and settled in.
The age-old fable suggests that a princess would feel a pea beneath a mountain of mattresses, but I believe a true princess would do what my daughter did—kiss her family goodnight and make the best of her situation.
So, despite my shortcomings, we have ourselves a bona fide princess. I can only hope she marries into royalty someday; we could all use some Egyptian cotton around here.
If you’re interested in exploring more about parenting and home insemination, be sure to check out resources like Genetics and IVF Institute for valuable information. And for couples on their fertility journey, you might find insight in our post about couples fertility journey for intracervical insemination. Additionally, you can learn more about the at-home insemination kit that can assist you on your journey.
Summary:
In this lighthearted reflection on parenting, the author recounts a day of chaotic bed-making that reveals her daughter’s resilience and adaptability. Despite the challenges of managing multiple beds and the lapse in household chores, she appreciates her child’s ability to embrace her less-than-ideal sleeping situation without complaint. The narrative weaves in connections to resources for parenting and home insemination, encouraging readers to find support in their own journeys.
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