I’m Moving to Mexico

We are 60 hours post-surgery on my kid, and I’ve officially lost all the the poo there is to lose. Which is a complete and utter lie. There is always more poo to lose, and I haven’t begun to hit the mother load because, let’s be honest, the mother load is a LOT of poo. There is a LOT of poo to lose. All the Poo. There is All the Poo to lose and I’ve but lost a tiny fraction of it. But I’ve been awake every hour on the hour for the last 60 hours straight, dispensing opiates and turning on the ice machine and comforting the teenager who’s all WHAT DID YOU LET THEM DO TO ME even though we’ve had her foot surgery planned for, like, ever, and I’m a little done in. A little fried. A teeny, tiny bit at the end of my rope. And the barest bit Yell All the Things I’m Thinking at Greg. Hold Nothing Back! Which would be nice if I was thinking about roses and puppies, but I’m not. I’m not. I’m really, really not.

I’d like to just take this minute to do a shout out (do you do a shout out? make a shout out? is that too like making a poo? or do you simply Shout Out without the doing or the making at all? HELP ME) to all of you who are Awake with Small Children All Through the Night. YOU ARE HEROES. Do you know? YOU ARE HEROES who somehow Exist Without Sleep but Keep on Tickin’ like that battery-operated toy at the bottom of the toy box that will not – WILL NOT – shut up already. Except, unlike that toy, which is creepy as hell at night, you ROCK. And as many bloody noses and wet beds and bad dreams and vomitty messes as I get up with in the middle of the night, I am out of your league, mamas and daddies of babies. OUT OF YOUR LEAGUE. Which the last 60 hours showed me in spades.

I left home tonight. Left Greg and All the Children and skedaddled. Outta there. Gone. Because I needed a break to find some of the poo I’d misplaced. And, just before I closed the front door, when the Children asked me when I was coming back, I said, “NEVER! I am NEVER coming back. I am moving to Mexico because they have beaches and sunshine and lounge chairs and BOOKS, and none of those things exist in Oregon. NONE.” And it was a very dramatic exit, but they all rolled their eyes at me, and Abby said in a stage whisper I’d probably be back tonight, and one of the littles asked me to pick him up a churro. A churro. Because my children MOCK MY PAIN. And Greg joined them saying, “You can’t go to Mexico ’til January, anyway” like he’s the boss of me, and I said, “January? January?? WATCH ME.” 

So this time, I’ve decided to do it.

I’ve decided to move to Mexico. ‘Cause that’ll show ’em just like it showed my parents when I ran away in the 3rd grade, which they never noticed, but whatever. 

I’m moving to Mexico, and I’m doing it right now. 

Right after I run some errands, I’m outta here. OUT, I tell you.

I’ve decided to move to Mexico, but first I have to go get a mouse for our snake and food for the dog and those chips Abby likes.

And I’ve decided to move to Mexico, but first I have to go to the pharmacy to renew the kids’ prescriptions.

Yes, I’ve decided to move to Mexico, but first I have to clean my house because my mommy told me to always wear clean underwear in case I’m in an accident, and right now my house looks like it’s been in a terrible, terrible accident, and none of its underwear is clean. Metaphorically or literally. So someone’s gotta fix that whole situation.

Sure, I’ve decided to move to Mexico, but I have to go home and see Abby through surgery recovery and physical therapy. Which will take at least 6-8 weeks, at which point she’ll have her 2nd foot surgery. But 6-8 weeks after that one, I’m gone. GONE. 

Assuming I’ve done the grocery shopping.

And the extracurricular planning.

And the extensive calendar-writing.

And, of course, the butt wiping. And the tear drying. And the boo-boo kissing. And the night-nighting.

And the hugging and the loving and the living and dying, which happens every day. 

And the breathing and the being.

And the moving and the shaking.

And the still-as-stone-ing and the stop everything-ing.

And the reckoning. And the gratitude-ing. And the attitude-adjusting. And the mama-it’s-ok-to-resting. It is, mama… shhhhh. It’s ok to rest.

… but right after all those things, I’m moving to Mexico. I am.

And I mean it this time.

Who’s in?

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28 responses to “I’m Moving to Mexico”

  1. I am absolutely in. Seriously. Let’s plan a Mamas’ Mexico Vacation (I could not, for the life of me, come up with a synonym for vacation that started with an M. I tried.)

  2. I’m in. I’m SO, SO exhausted. My 5-year-old is going through a Phase, a very very exhausting and annoying and horrible Phase. And I can’t do All Of The Things.

    Please take me with you.

  3. Dear Beth,
    If you can hold onto your poo for one more day, I heard a rumor that there will be churros (cream filled!) on sale at your local Fred Meyer.

    Hey, if you can’t move to Mexico, bring it home.

    If you CAN find a way, I’m with you. Both feet, all in.
    If not, come visit Beaverton any time.

    Still your neighbor from just down the road, but now officially able to post my name, since I finally told my mother I’m pregnant again. (She’s thrilled, of course.)

    With love and good luck Momrade,

  4. What an inspiring, wonderful mother you are! I know it seems impossible now, but time will march on and you will miss these years. No, not the surgeries, the butt wiping, vomit cleaning etc, but the times in between. When your little one wraps his arms around you, snuggles in close taking a deep breath in like he can’t get any closer and says he loves you 🙂 That little guy is now 17 and lets just say hanging it out with mom is no longer the “bestest” 🙂

  5. I left a 1 year old and a 1 month old 40 plus years ago and ran away to New Jersey on a Friday night. Came home on Sunday! Now these kids just bring the grandkids over here and they stay home! It never gets any better, it just doesnt bother you as much. Enjoy Mexico, if you ever get there!

  6. I ran away to Mexico one time. But it was really a graveyard right around the corner from the house. I know that it seems creepy. I don’t usually run to graveyards or hang out in them or anything. I just needed break and no one would think to look for me there. I took a book, stopped at the corner store for a coffee and just sat and cried and read my book for three hours. It was wonderful. So, I’m in!

  7. It’s pointless Beth….because they will find you…..they always find us…..always.And they look in bathrooms first.And may I just say…..announcing that you are going was a big mistake…..you wanna sneak away on the quiet,give yourself a headstart…..and don’t tell them where you are going….for the love of God woman,that was a rookie mistake!!
    Seriously….I really hope that things settle down soon and this whole time will be a distant memory in no time.
    And extra seriously…..you are getting a mouse for the snake….I’m dry heaving at the thoughts of traveling in a car with a mouse…..you deserve an award for that alone!!!

  8. I am so in. Right after my 10 month old gets out of PICU, where he has been for 5 weeks. You see, us and our 7 children flew 4000 miles to see my father-in-law who died 2 weeks later. Baby went into hospital 5 days being here. I am so all in. Right after baby’s heart surgery he now needs 6 weeks after he gets out of the hospital. And after I sleep a month because he will not be able to go home before surgery. I lose poo with stress. I, like yourself, have lost a lot of poo. In public bathrooms. For 6 weeks and counting. Oh yeah, I am all in.

  9. I”m not so sure about the Mexico thing – we went this winter as a “We’re going to Mexico for vacation, dammit!”, and spent the. entire. week. throwing. up. And also, literally losing our poo.

    Soooo……I”d suggest Taco Bell for your churro;)

    Thanks for the shout out – my littles are 1 and 3.

    And I’m so glad I have you to read:)

    Hang in there! You can do it, I believe in you!

  10. In 2003, I really did move to Mexico. The secret is to bring the wife and kids (we have 4). You might be surprised…it’s the best thing we ever did for the kids.

  11. Awwww. Thank you for calling me a hero. I needed to read this (that often happens with your posts). Love you so.

    p.s. I have poo issues too. I can’t poo when my parents visit. I know I’m not completely insane because my sister (raised by the same people) has the same problem. As soon as my parents leave her house, she heads for the toilet. My brother-in-law says “the poo knows when the (judgmental-you’re-raising-your-kids-wrong) parents are gone.” My parents are arriving tomorrow for a visit. So I won’t see my poo for a while.

    p.p.s. Send me a postcard from Mexico!

  12. I’m in! I don’t have even as many kids as you, but I’ve wanted to just run away a few times…only for me it would be the Highlands of Scotland…I want to go out of my door and be knocked over by the scent of Sheep Poo!!! Lol! Still better than kid poo, and vomit, and only God knows what that scent is in my car that I just can’t seem to get out.

    • Ooooo the Highlands of Scotland sounds way better than Mexico! I’m with you on the runaway train!

  13. “And the hugging and the loving and the living and dying, which happens every day.” Oh man…I just love you Beth!! Waving to you in the dark. I’ll buy you a drink in Mexico.

  14. Yes. Mexico. Now. Up alllll night last night with a nursing all night cutting teeth toddler. Then spent all day trying to get him to take a nap so I could sleep. He fell asleep ten minutes before the 2 siblings got home from school. I am going to go pack, I will meet you at the airport right after I do all the things. Hugs,mama.

  15. I am sooooo in. I have nothing remotely funny to say or quirky cause I’m just not that cool, but I laughed my arse off at your post! Lord have mercy!

  16. I hear you can really lose a lot of poo in Mexico. And then you could come back poo-less. Which might be good! Or maybe not so good, because then really, what would you lose when the need to lose something arose?

    And I hear some days are like that, even in Mexico! So maybe just churros for everyone! Andele!

  17. “one of the littles asked me to pick him up a churro. A churro.” I laughed SO LOUD.

    I moved to the Dominican Republic once. It was a great idea. We’ve got a spare bedroom full of books and we’re a ten minute motorcycle-taxi ride (that’s how we get around here, seriously) from the ocean.

    You’re a superstar, Mama!

  18. Can I come? Because my trip to Mexico feels so, SO far away, even though it was less than three weeks ago… Why didn’t I bring a pool attendant home with me to keep my margarita glass full AT ALL TIMES? Motherhood would be so much easier if that were the case…

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