I need a "Mom-cation"

I need a Mom-cation. I realize it's only been 5 weeks since D-Day with three kids but 5 weeks in my world is equal to 6 months in yours. Trust me, I did the math.
Let me share with you the happenings of this past Monday evening. I think you may sympathize a tad more once I explain.
Monday, February 1, 2010: The day started out quietly enough. Riley was at Grammy and Grandpop's house so it was just me and my girly girls hanging at home. The baby slept okay the night before and both chick-a-doos even slept a little later than usual that morning. It was a good start. Coffee in hand I charted out the days events because Natalie had a doctor's appointment at 1. I was anxious to get her there and see what she weighed now. Grandpop had stepped on the scale with her at home and swore she was 9 and a half pounds. This would mean she gained almost 2 pounds in 2 weeks! If I haven't mentioned it before, my kids start out normal enough but quickly start to grow as if I fed them steroids intravenously. I've been told I have the breast milk of champions. I've also found that sounds quite odd coming out of my mouth in social situations. Note to self, don't talk about the superior strength of your boob milk when in public. People really don't want to know. Seriously, they don't. Especially your husband's bachelor friends when we all meet up for drinks. So anyway, I plan out baths, showers, diaper bag contents, timing of dressing the baby to avoid as many spit-up stains as possible, etc. and make a quick call to Grandpop because he's going to watch the two older kiddos while I take the baby. Grandpop arrives with Riley in tow, Livy is napping, I'm off to the doctors office. Yadda yadda yadda for a bit... baby is doing great, gained 1 lb 2 oz. in 2 weeks (holy crap!) and gets her follow-up Hepatitis B shot. This, my friends, is where my day starts to go down hill - only I don't know it quite yet. It might sound cold-hearted but I've found that with each baby this whole shot business tends to get easier. Oh I'm sure it's no less painful for the baby but for me it's not nearly as tramatic seeing them get 2 shots in each thigh and scream their little heads off. It breaks my heart, of course, to see them in pain but I know it'll only last a second and it's all for a good cause. Cue shots in thigh, pick up baby to soothe her, she quickly stops crying and falls asleep in carrier before I'm even out the door. We're now heading home, one doctors appointment down - a dozen more to go, and that's just this year. More "yadda yadda yaddas" pertaining to a few in-between boring things and soon it's 3:30pm. Livy is up from her nap, but she's more cranky than usual. Actually, let me retract that. She's WAY more cranky than usual. She has several teeth ripping through her gums and she's not really all that thrilled about it. Who would be? It even looks painful, her gums all red and swollen with these tiny little white daggers poking through. The damn things are like razors... and I know this from experience because she tried to bite my pinky off over the weekend. She's an animal. Nose running, she wants nothing more than to be held. Of course, according to the great gods of Life of Three there will be obstacles to go along with this. The exact moment I pick Livy up to give her some lovin' the baby magically awakes and is screaming. She wants to be fed, I think. I try reasoning with Liv that Mommy has to feed the baby for a minute but will hold her as soon as I'm done. I promise. Yeah, right. All Livy hears is "Mommy blibbidy blah blah blah baby blibbidy blah blah" and begins to throw herself back in a temper tantrum and slams her head into my nose. GOD DAMN IT. That hurts. I think I just saw stars for a brief moment and check my nose for profuse bleeding. Nothing yet. I end up holding Livy with one arm, half her butt sitting on my right leg, the baby tangled in between us, legs completely squashed behind her sisters back and nursing from the left. My back is going into spasms from holding them both but I am determined to succeed in keeping these kids happy. Afterall, happy kids equals happy Mommy. Okay, so I just wanted them to both be quiet for a second. Can you blame me? Livy decides she's had enough, jumps down and runs to the pantry. "One-deese" ("Want one of these", roughly translated) she says from across the room and points at the pantry door. She figured out how to open it about a month ago and it's literally become her favorite place. For me, it's just torture. She NEVER knows what she wants from inside but she sure has a blast making me pick her up while she points at nothing in particular. We play the guessing game of "You want this? No. Okay. How about this? No... (sigh) How about THIS?" and we end the game where it usually ends each and every time. Fruit snacks. This is always the first "this" that I offer but I'm finding that Livy likes to mess with my head. She loves me, she's just ornery like that. I give her the pack of fruit snacks and make it back to where I'd left the baby in the swing moments before. At this point she is almost passing out from her angry cries. She was asleep a minute ago but something has gone and pissed her off. I'm not sure what. You'd think I'd be the Baby Whisperer or something by now, but I'm just as lost as the next guy. I pick her up, she's still crying. Unusual. Most times she just wants to be held. To feel that bodily warmth and firm grip to make her feel safe and secure again. Not this time. Nuh-uh, no way. She is downright mad. It is now about 4:30 and if I'd known how the events of the evening were going to go down from here I would have started running... It's times like these where I honestly have considered hiring a sitter. I don't want any of that business of a Mother's Helper. Screw that. The whole point would be so that I could get away! All this talk of having someone here to help me while we co-care for the kids is just silly nonsense. Get me out of here. Now. I realize, looking back, that at 4:30 that day I was just being a whiney baby. It was more like 8pm when I legitimately had every reason and then some to lose my ever-lovin' mind. And I did. Several times over. Baby screaming non-stop at this point, I realize that Riley is vying for my attention now and has discovered that screaming at the top of his lungs to mimic the baby's crying has caused Mommy to yell at him. This is attention... not good attention, but attention. Crazy kid reasoning. I tell him to quit, he yells louder. He is actually smiling while doing it now. I can't remember what I ended up screaming back at him at that moment, but whatever it was it was good enough to make him stop abruptly. As if a switch is flipped, he has forgotten about the baby and wants to color. Whatever makes you happy dude. I fish out the basket of crayons and markers and give him a stack of paper 2 inches thick. If I'm lucky he'll occupy himself with pictures until his Dad gets home. For good measure I toss down his toddler scissors and glue sticks on the table. Have at it kid. Channel Picasso and create me a masterpiece.
Time for dinner plans. I realize now that I should have ordered pizza. Sure, we may be on a budget and I may not have a job. To be honest I would have rather spent the last $20 to my name on a pie and been dirt poor the rest of my life than to go through the nightmare of dinner prep. Maybe even if I'd just thrown a Hamburger Helper on the stove. I could have been fine. Do I do this? Of course not. I thaw out chicken, pull out carrots, broccoli, and other assorted veggies. I pull out some teriyaki rice mixes, the sesame oil. A few garlic and ginger shakes later I am slicing chicken and heating up veggies with one hand all while nursing a very fussy baby with the other. It comes to me like a light bulb blinking on above my head. I think I've discovered Natalie's problem. The shots. Duh. None of my other kids had any problems with them. Not that I remember anyway. This time, however, if I even breathe near her leg she screams. Not wanting to eat anymore I do the only thing I can think of and strap her in the infant carrier on my chest. I'm getting more use of this thing IN the house than out. I might as well wear the thing as if it were my 5th limb at this point since it's pretty much turning out to be just that. Baby in the carrier, Livy has now attached herself to my left leg in a fitful scream because the right leg got her nowhere. Her nose is running down her face to her chin. It's completely raw from repeated wiping and she's got a low-grade fever now. Teething sucks and any idiotic doctor who tells you that teething does not bring on these symptoms is, well, a big idiot. I've chosen baby wipes as my weapon of choice for her nose now because the tissues with lotion don't seem to be helping and proceed to rip out another two sheets from the pack. She sees me coming and runs like a bat out of hell. I can't chase her so I don't. I'm sure she'll be back in a few minutes to scream some more at my leg anyway so I'll attack the nose then. Riley screams to me over the chaos to come look at his picture for the 5oth time. I've reduced myself to yelling back "Cool!" without even so much as a glimpse his way. I feel horrible about it at first but then I find myself yelling "Cool!" to him when he's not even asking me to look. I guess that means he's asked one too many times... or Mom's losing it. I manage to chop the chicken and veggies and throw them in a wok without burning myself or the dangling infant legs hanging off of me. Everything is cooking in one pot now so the hard part is over. The baby is still screaming but at a more muted tone now. I think she's losing her voice, poor thing. I just don't know what to do to stop her. I can't remember if 1 month olds can have Tylenol and it's too late to call the doctor. It is now 6:45. Where is Ryan? It's still not completely out of the norm that he's not home, traffic, after all, is a bitch. I text him. When I sent him a message earlier asking if he'd be home on time because my Mom needed me to make a run to IKEA with her, he sounded optimisitic in being home with time to spare. 7pm. He texts me back. He got an emergency page at the office. It'll only take a few minutes to finish up and then he's heading out of there. I contemplate putting Livy in her highchair for some dinner. The kids had a late lunch of soup but they have to be getting hungry by now. I know I'm starving but that's because I don't think I've eaten since breakfast. I sorta forgot, again. I end up lifting Olivia into the chair, holding her out in front of me by her armpits in an attempt to keep her from smashing the baby who is on my chest. I untangle her twisted pretzel legs from the foot holes in the chair, and voila! She's in. She hates it. She's so pissed she's trying to climb back out. I try to distract her with jello... apples... cereal... anything until I can throw together some kind of decent dinner item for her to munch on while the other stuff is simmering. 7:45 approaches. Dinner is done and growing cold on the stove. WHERE IS RYAN. Normally we text all day long. We are not great phone talkers. It's easier to text the main point of what you want to know or say and be done with it. Besides, ME have time to talk on the phone. Haha, you're frickin' hilarious. I pick up the phone and dial. He answers and by the tone of my voice, not to mention both girls hysterically screaming in the background, he knows I'm at my wits end. "WHERE are you?" I grunt. He's passing I-95 on his way to route 50. Will be home soon. I click my cell shut and start humming. I'm not sure if the humming is for the baby's benefit or mine. I re-think the humming, it's even scaring me not to mention what it's doing to the baby and so I turn on the first music station I can find. Country. Oh well, I like country sometimes and it's a lot more soothing than the adult rock channel. Maybe it'll calm these kids long enough until their father walks in the door. God I hope that's sooner than later. I'm now blasting "My Crazy Ex-Girlfriend" and singing and dancing in the living room with Natalie over my shoulder. I don't know this song but it's so cliche of country music that I can pretty much figure it out. Ryan is finally home and a series of "Daddy!" triumphs can be heard from both Livy and Riley as they run to the front door. They are probably just as glad that someone else is here as I am. "Having fun?" he says as I sway back and forth for the 500th time. I don't nod, I don't answer, I just glare. He doesn't take it personal, he just smiles and picks up Livy and takes her into the kitchen and grabs a bowl of food. Oh sure, you're like a Banshee from Hell when it's just Mommy but now that Daddy the Saviour is here, all is right in the world again. Defeated and having finally quieted the baby down some, I plop down in the rocker, lean my head back and close my eyes. Strange, I don't think I took one breath in or out in the last 4 hours because suddenly I let out this huge sigh as if I'd been under water. I hear a buzzing noise... my cell going off. It's a text only this time it's from my Mom. "Natalie needs her Neenie" I desperately type to her. She's coming over. THANK THE LORD ALMIGHTY. What better way to cure a Mom in crisis than with another Mom. The baby wakes up, more screaming and I am now warming up a bottle. I try to stay away from the formula when I'm at home but my body just can't take anymore right now. I struggle with the bottle, the baby really doesn't like it when I try to give it to her. Meanwhile, Ryan a.k.a. Mr. I-Can-Handle-All-The-Stress-In-The-World himself is starting to crack. Livy is spewing out the first half of her motrin and refuses to let the medicine dropper within 10 feet of her. "I think I'm going crazy" I say to him in passing. "After 15 minutes of walking in the door I'm usually losing it too" he admits. Well, at least I can take comfort in the fact that it's not just me. At that moment there is a knock at the door. The kids literally go running as if their lives depended on it. "NEENIE!" they scream simultaneously. I never could figure out where their Neenie radar comes from. Happiness is pouring from their little bodies. You'd have thought Santa was making a surprise visit in February. The tables have turned. They are now both extremely happy kids bouncing around the house in excitement. Screaming, yes, but for a very different reason. They are practically rejoicing. My Mom takes the baby from my aching arms and has her fed and lulled to sleep in minutes. The kids, albeit a tad crazy, are no longer hanging from my sides and protesting about every little thing they can possibly ponder up. It figures, doesn't it? 5 hours of my trying to undo the madness in this house and all I get are some snotty tissues and sore legs from 30 minutes of constant swaying. Neenie, on the other hand, takes less than 3 minutes to turn those frowns upside down and the world is right again. You gotta love her. My rear end hits the couch for the first time in an eternity and I prop up a few pillows behind my head. It may not exactly be a Mom-cation I'm enjoying at the moment but let me tell ya, sitting by myself in a semi-laying down position with no children yanking on me sure is pretty damn comfy. Yeah, it'll do.