Diary of a Mompreneur

The Not-So-Secret Thoughts of an Entrepreneur Mom of Five

Is this keyboard typing too loud? I’ll be damned if the littles wake up… again…

Hello, world. My name is Kim and I’m an accidental mom of five. Yes, I know how kids are created. My husband does as well. Funnily enough, we entered our marriage with two kids each and he, my amazing husband, had the brilliant idea of having one more of our own.

Four miscarriages later, we gave up trying.

No joke, the week I gave my notice to my full-time job that I was quitting, we found out we were pregnant… again. Our daughter, Nevaeh, was born ten days late, in August 2013.

I had survived the first year of my business as a mompreneur and was looking forward to getting back into the (entrepreneurial) saddle — come on, I know some of you would have thought something dirty if I hadn’t inserted the extra word there — after returning to work.

Will I ever have my own bathroom?

Nevaeh was about eight months old when we moved into our little dream house and decided our family was complete. The funny thing about deciding your family is complete is that it’s not official until you act on that decision.

We were trying to decide who was getting the snip when we saw that funny second line on a home pregnancy test. And then the doctor’s office told us we better come in for an ultrasound because my hormone levels were higher than they would expect this far along in pregnancy.

Wait, am I crying or laughing? I must be going crazy because I could swear I’m doing both but truthfully I don’t know what the heck is going on here.

“David, you better sit down.” the ultrasound tech told my husband. “You two aren’t just expecting one. There’s two in there.”

God, I know you don’t give me more than I can handle, but what the… ?!?!?!?

By the time the twins were born — at 38 weeks — in January 2015, it took TWO belly tapes to measure my girth. I seriously competed with Santa for belly size that Christmas, and I could no longer work at my desk because my hands couldn’t reach past my belly. With my wireless keyboard teetering on my belly, I attempted to answer emails from the recliner hubby pushed up to my desk.

If one more person asks me “How do you do it with all those kids?”, I’m going to ask them why they can’t do it without them…

Yes, I have a lot of kids. No, that doesn’t automatically make me a perfect homemaker, nor does it make me a 5-star chef. In truth, I burn more meals than not, and even those come out of a box. My oldest child and/or husband prefer to cook our family meals to ensure we’ll have something edible.

And housecleaning? Um… It happens… Sometimes. Truthfully, most has been delegated to the older kids who want allowance. Child labor? Maybe. However, I can’t do everything, and kids who want something, in my opinion, should learn the value of working to earn what they want.

When will I be able to sleep without worrying a three year old snuck a Sharpie into their bedroom?

Our youngest daughter, Zelda (my husband is an independent video game developer), is a little minion. I took two minutes last week to go pee AND wash my hands, and when I got out of the bathroom, I found she had colored her face with a green Sharpie marker.

I look the opportunity to post a Facebook Live, and she smiled her bright white teeth to the camera between her green lips and said, “I colored my face and I can’t get it off! Giggle giggle.”

And that’s not even the best Sharpie story from our house.

On Valentine’s Day 2016, with all but three of us struck down by the flu, little Nevaeh took the opportunity to draw a smiley face on the bottom of the toilet seat. Every time someone lifted the seat to get sick, a goofy smiley face drawn by a (then) 2.5 year old stared out at them with beady eyes, a crooked smile and a ring around the toilet seat.

I couldn’t bring myself to wash it off because it was so damn funny.

Sigh.

Murphy’s Law should have been named, “Mompreneur’s Law.” The crazier my week looks, the higher the probability of child fevers, injuries or other frantic calls from daycare.

Wow, this makes me sound like a pessimist, however I promise I am not. However… I do make a point of throwing the landline out of my office and shutting off my cell whenever I’m recording a podcast, just because I know, “Positive Productivity does NOT mean perfection.”

If you’re a parent, did you ever notice that the moment you got your kid to sleep your phone or doorbell would ring? Well, the same goes for podcasts. My daycare must have a podcast monitoring system that alerts them to call as soon as I push “record.”

“Kim, did you get those papers from the pediatrician yet?”

Unspoken response, “Um, no… I’ve had ‘Call Pediatrician’ on my To-Do list for weeks now but because you keep calling during my podcasts the phone’s never nearby when I have a moment to call.”

I’m going to temporarily donate my kids to the next person at the grocery who says, “Whoa, you’ve got your hands full!”

Do you want to know why I’m one of the last parents to pick up at daycare?

Because I don’t dare take my littles to the grocery. It’s not because they’re bad, because they really aren’t. As a matter of fact, my littles are the ones who hug random strangers and question them about the contents of their cart.

And then there’s the one who always asks another patron if they’re a boy or a girl. Twice.

No, I don’t go to the grocery with my littles more than I do because I can’t stand hearing, “Whoa, you’ve got your hands full!”

These people don’t know half the story.

Darn it. Those people who say I’m going to miss these days are right.

I guess it will be public knowledge now that I don’t mind a forced day off when a kid is sick. I adore cuddle sessions and laying in bed all day with a sick kid. Sure, non-stop replays of certain YouTube Kid stations drive me donkey bonkers, but truth be told, their jingles get stuck in my head and make me hum on the quiet days when I’m working at home alone.

I know people think I can’t get possibly get as much done as people without kids do. I know I’ve been passed over for positions after I was transparent about being a mom. And I know that these people are wrong.

I’m Supermom. My cape is invisible and I know I could kick the a$$ of any world leader who tried to tackle my job for a day.