Mommy's "Happy Pills"

We were walking down the candy aisle at Walmart when the kids got all excited. "Are we gonna buy some candy Mommy?" asked Hannah, obviously with heart aflutter. "No, honey... I'm buying something for me this time," I answered her. Looking chagrined, she murmered, "you're buying kisses, aren't you?" (imagine the tone a woman uses when she's referring to her lover's "other woman"). "Yes, baby." "But whyeeeeee can't weeeeeeee have any of your kisses?!" "Because, baby, they're like Mommy's happy pills... when I'm needing to calm down or just have a happy moment, I eat one and feel a little better. You have your cookies and your lolipops you get for being good, and, well, these are just Mommy's special treat." "Oh, ok... I get it," she answered me, with a look of new understanding once her treats were mentioned... she knows Mommy doesn't eat her goodies, and got the connection.


Fast forward to the next day, I'm driving in the car and I get cut off by some guy who apparently didn't notice me coming down the road he was turning onto, and without looking, the driver pulled right out in front of me, making me have to brake harder than usual to accomodate him rather than end up wedged in his driver's side door. "Moron!," I (ashamedly) exclaimed. "What's wrong Mommy?" my darlings asked in unison. "Sorry kids, it's just that bad drivers put Mommy in a very bad mood and make me angry. I shouldn't have name-called though." Next remark was priceless: "That's ok, Mommy. When we get home you can have one of your happy pills and feel all better"...


If only it were that easy, baby. Now I have to brainwash the events of the last few days so they don't think mere substances can erase heartaches and pain. But first I'll have a good giggle at their sweet humor :) But I got the lesson... my snide sense of humor can sometimes teach them the wrong ideas, and maybe (ok, certainly) I need to keep a tighter reign on my tongue around them.

The up-sides of stomach flu?

This week my sweet Hannah and I caught the stomach flu... and I'm really trying to see the bright side of it because, in general, the last 4 days have been a major suck fest, but there has to be a silver lining, right? So here's what I've dug up to be the good points of the last 4 days...

Firstly, You could now perform surgery in my house. That's right, the surfaces in my house are now sparkly clean and perfectly germ free. If someone's touched it in the last week, it's been swiped with a hefty bleach-water solution. I don't mess around. Even while I was sick, the procedure was to hurl... muster & clean myself... then head on over to the bleach bucket and get to work while the endorphins did their work and kept me standing before the next wave of nausea. The downside of such cleanliness is that while you could perform surgery in here, you may not be able to because the level of bleach fumes in here might make the uninitiated pass out.

(Editor's note: that last part is in jest... don't worry, the littles are safe and in no danger of dying from bleach fumes...DO NOT call the authorities :))

Secondly, I am now a martyr. Someone grab me a halo cuz I just did my good deed for the year. Hubs has an important event (that which I will not publish for the blog-stalker world) which would have made it a very poor time to get the stomach flu, and so I sent him to stay at my father's whilst I managed Hannah, and then caught her germs. And since my Mommy is out of town (she who normally manages my puke-age loveingly as only a Mommy can), that officially makes me a sacrificial martyr... all hail me. After the quarantine lifts from my house, that is. Later, Ryan can throw me a party and gift wrap that halo with a big box of chocolates and a nice evening out with my girlfriends at Starbucks thankyouverymuch.

And finally, in this quest to find the good in this germ encrusted, miserable tale, I guess you could say the last up-side would be that I had a genuine excuse to let a few things go that I otherwise wouldn't have. For instance, for the last 4 days I've let my kids watch t.v. till their little hearts almost burst from the joy of their Dino Dan/Mickey Mouse Clubhouse love-fest. I also got to forgo cooking for a couple days in favor of ordering in pizza and having meals delivered by hubs, who slipped dinner in and ran out of the house like a frightened girl in sheer germaphobic terror. And sweeping... well, our food consumption was cut by half while Hannah and I decided we'd rather be flayed alive rather than ever consume anything ever again... meaning the crumbs levels were cut in half for a couple days. And I actually got to read a book in my spare time, Ha!

Take that stomach flu... I've bested you with bleach AND with a more positive attitude. Although, if you show your ugly face in this house again, it may do me in, so hit the road, Jack. We've seen more of you than we care to for a long loooooooong time.

Out of touch

I've noticed I am becoming more and more out of touch with the world ever since leaving work to stay home with my little people. I used to get a newspaper daily and read it cover to cover, but soon after having children, I noticed my $90 a year subscription was being used to quickly read thru the front page headlines, skim the obits for names of former patients who've passed, read the opinion page and break into a small soap-box-y tantrum, and check out a comic or two. This took all of 5 minutes total, but in that time my children would invariably stage a coup and I'd find cabinets opened, chairs overturned, burners running on the stove, and someone somewhere would be covered in diaper creme. And so I had to give up and relinquish my subscription, probably for the good because lately it seems people who still pay for the paper are telling me it's just outdated news anyway.

Now my news is viewed only thru the myyahoo ticker, and if I have time to click on the story for more info, sometimes I can read quickly enough to avoid my children overthrowing me as leader of the house and installing themselves as dictators of Johnsonland. And forget TV news programs... by the time the cute-and-cuddly's are down for the evening, I'm pretty much only good for sitting around drooling on myself. If a meteor was hurtling toward Earth, I think the only way I'd know about the crash course is because my Mommy would call me with her Henny-Penny voice (also used for whenever the weatherman sends out a tornado watch/warning notice), and even then Ryan would be in the background all "it's probably just a shooting star outside... you know it's never as bad as your parents think it is." Someday a tornado really will hit us unawares just for saying that, I know Mom :)

But for the present, there are some things that when I hear about them, I have to be all, "Huh?" because I really have no idea what's going on in the world... such as

-What's the difference between all these stupid phones and their operating systems? What happened to getting by with a few hundred minutes and a texting package? What is an app?

-Who the heck is Amanda Knox, and why does anyone care that she looks like some other teeny bopper actress?

-Is there some kind of solar storm out there? Will it kill us like in that Nicholas Cage doomsday movie, or will it just slow my internet connection EVEN MORE?!

-How was ANYONE surprised when Miley Cyrus turned into Hollywood's new bad girl? Did you really not see it coming? Because, like I said, I'm pretty out of touch, and even I saw that one on the horizon.

The list could go on, but then again, how could it really go that far, since, like I said, I am soooooo way out of touch, and couldn't tell Kate Middleton from Kate WhatsernamemarriedtoTomCruise. I could, however, tell you how many times PBS kids repeated the Bear Hibernation episode of Cat in the Hat this week, or how Tolee the Koala learned to deal with his toy Panda getting dirty in the pond. I could tell you how many servings of fruits and veggies my kids got today, and how many days it's been since one of them has pooped. I could tell you how many of my girlfriends are pregnant and what their due dates are. But as for whatever Mr. President and the folks in congress did yesterday, I'm a blank. Maybe someday I'll be more well informed, but for now, it's back to the trenches for me because naptime is almost over :)

What happens when Mommy doesn't sleep...

Or, the de-evolution of Mommy:

Caleb decided to wake up at the midnight hour the other night, and my reactions with each waking reminded me of what happens as most Mommies go thru the whole crazy-train of sleep deprivation from infanthood thru sleeping-thru-the-night-hood.
1. First cry- "Waaaaah!" Mommy's eye pop open from dreary deep sleep and first thought is "Awww... my little one neeeeeds me! I'm coming to the rescue Buddy!"... I rush to his room and take the opportunity to snuggle a bit before settling him off to sleep and heading back to my room. "What a cute little angel!" I think. This reminded me of his first few months, when everything is new and you spend those wee hours just looking at your little one sleeping and relishing every little soft velvety curve of baby lump your eyes find. Oh well, off Mommy goes to sleep again.

You start out all, "Who needs sleep when I can care for my little one? Maybe I should scotch guard the couches and scrub the fridge while I'm at it. And then knit blankets for the poor."

2. 2nd cry- 12:30 am "Waaah!"..."Whatever could be wrong with my baby tonight? He doesn't wake this often anymore" Rushing to the little guy's bed, you sit there comforting him and go thru the checklist of "what could be wrong?," much as was once done when baby was about 6 months old and starting to settle into more regular sleep. Fever? nope. Diaper full? nope. Lost toy? Nope. All is well, so a drink is offered and wee one is tucked in once more. Mommy slips back to sleep, though it takes a bit longer this time...

only this time, just five minutes after settling back into blissful sleep again...

3. 3rd cry- 1 am "Waaaaaaaaah!" "Dangit! What the heck is up with that kid!?" Groggily, and much more slowly, you slog into the room and croak, "Whassamatter!?" "I wanna nuther dwi-iink" "Dude! Mommy has to get some sleep tonight. Take another drink real quick, but DON'T wake Mommy up again. Go to sleep." Door is shut unceremoniously whether or not little guy has found his lovey and blankey again and he's left to find his own way back to sleep as you thump back into bed and pray to God he goes to sleep this time. Groggy hubby says, "Man, he's waking up alot tonight isn't he?" to which you reply thru your teeth, "Yes, and if you ever let him nap till 4 pm again I'm gonna kill you with my bare hands!" "What? What was that Honey?" "Nothing, it doesn't bear repeating, just. let. me. sleep!"

Reminds me of the 1 year mark when you're thinking, "Dude, I don't care what's wrong, just shut it and learn to soothe yourself already!"

Darling baby starts out looking like this to you

however... by this point they just look like THIS to you

4. 4th Cry, 1:30 am "Waaaah!" You jump out of bed, throwing pillow over hubby's head, and stomp to crying child's room, throw open the door, and growl, "IF YOU CRY OR CALL ME AGAIN I AM GOING TO SPANK YOU. NOW GO TO SLEEP!" Stomp back to room and put pillow over head. Slink back into sleep only after arguing with self for an hour about whether CPS is going to come tomorrow to claim your children becuase your such a mean Mommy. And then settle on, "Well, he should be sleeping thru the night now and able to comfort his darn self!" as the replying answer, and slip back into sleep. Have extra cup of coffee in the a.m. and shirk off hubby's evil eye thru the day at including him in the bad-sleep extravaganza. Catch a nap and leave him in charge as payback ;) (or at least I wish). Give little guy extra hugs in the a.m. as pennance for mean-mommy persona showing up in the wee-hours. This is the reality of 2 year old sleep.

Aaaaaand this is how you end up looking at the end of the night. Approach only if you are bleeding or on fire, as per the established rules of the household... Mommy will go back to her sweet, loving self once she gets some @#$(*&^% sleep.

I keep reminding myself someday he'll be a teenager and then I won't be able to wake him up no matter how hard I try. But then I'll miss all the other cute stuff, so in a way it's worth it now... just don't ask me how I feel about parenthood at 2 in the morning. I may slug you with a pillow, too.

Happily eating my crow...

My big girls rode their bikes without training wheels today. I KNOW... only one day after I started trying them without, and one day since I predicted they'd take FOREVER to learn. I'm still shocked at how quickly they pick stuff up sometimes! Hannah is still really hesistant and constantly crashing because she can't turn yet, but still, she did an excellent ride across the court near our house. And Sarah, well she took off like a bolt to the blue and didn't look back. Unfortunatly she didn't look forward too well either because she ran straight into her brother on two different ride attempts despite my hollering right next to her "WATCH OUT! DON'T HIT CALEB!!!" It was like he was the only brake she had and she was goin' for it even if it meant they both ended up in traction, which thankfully they didn't. I'm so proud... now I have to go figure out my stupid phone to see how I can upload the videos. If you don't see any later, assume the damn technology has bested me yet again. Yay for banner days in my little ones' lives!! Boo for endlessly complicated cell phone cameras!!

Spring is Spring-ing...

This week the tide of winter has turned toward announcing the oncoming spring. Maybe Punxatawny Phil was right this year? And while I'd love to say I'm LOVING it, there are a few things I'm concerned about with spring...
1. It's MESSY.- I know, I should be all, "Oh, feel the nice breeze and glory in the abundant sunshine!"... and don't get me wrong, I totally love both, but it also means my kids are outside way more often. With that comes the outside dirt. Especially with Sarah. Sometimes I wonder if she just rolls in it or if Hannah and Caleb are aiding and abetting her by squooshing the dirt into places she just couldn't reach herself. She tracks in more sand than the Sahara after just 10 minutes in the sandbox, and has now developed a disturbing affinity for those teeny little gravel rocks in the runoff ditches at the sides of the street. I found a handful in each pocket of her jacket today, and they keep migrating out onto my floor where, OUCH... you get it!? My feet have them permanently stuck in the callouses, which were previously at least smooth callouses. There are loads upon loads of laundry now in my house of clothes covered in sidewalk chalk, and this is just the first warm week since winter set in. My washer and dryer may never recover from this spring/summer, what with camping, outdoor fun, and three fully mobile mess-makers full of (bad) inventive ideas related to how to use dirt more creatively.
2. I LIKE my down time- Summer means my down time each day will vanish. What I mean is, now I get a little extra time in the week for blogging, etc. that is "me" time. Summer and spring mean that time is spent mowing lawns and watering gardens, etc. All nice pursuits, but I'll miss this time.
3. SUNSCREEN- the dread word. Any and all outings in summer that involve exposure in the 10am-3pm time slots involves a lengthy sunscreening session beforehand because I will not, I repeat, will NOT have them blaming me for premature aging someday :). They can blame me for LOADS of other parenting fails, but they will have skin like angels when the rest of the world has wrinkles, as least as long as I can control it, anyway. Sunscreening can take up to 30 minutes of our time or more each outing before we can even leave the house, and don't even get me started on what sunscreen handprints look like on furniture or glass doors. Lets just say they are impossible to clean without significant delayed onset muscles soreness the day after, and leave it at that.

On the upside, I can't wait to get these three out camping, swimming, and fishing this spring and summer. I adore seeing them out in the yard having water fights and drawing elaborate pictures in chalk on EVERYTHING outside (they're like tiny gang-taggers... you never can really decipher what they've drawn, but it's sorta pretty and really hard to wash off). Caleb is so excited about the oncoming adventures that he keeps trying to dive underwater in the tub to practice swimming like his sisters, and I know I'll have to watch him like a hawk this year, because he knows no fear or limitation... as long as the girls can do it, he thinks he can, too (and he may well yet show me he's correct). This year, he's gonna need a fishing pole, a big-boy swing, and a new life vest because he will no longer settle for string tied to a stick, baby swings, or baby life jackets (sniff sniff.... stop growing, I tell you!). And the girls... well lets just remember their 5th birthday is right around the corner, and I'm hoping this spring they'll finally turn the corner to start riding their bikes without training wheels. I say hoping because I tried them both out this morning without the training wheels, and they were AWFUL. Falling over like poorly-balanced stone statues, even WITH me holding them the whole time. Please tell me that's normal, and that I don't have balance-stunted little non-bike-riding peeps here?! But anyway, I'm determined they're gonna get it, just like I was determined they were going to learn to read last summer, so we will soldier on- I think I'm gonna have to stock up on princess band-aids though. :)

Things it's better off not to ask when Mommy has PMS

Everyone knows that there are certain times each month when you must tread lightly around the ladies of the household, and so I decided to create a guide of things NEVER to ask at that time...

1. Do you see that dirt over there?

This one is a particularly dangerous question firstly because I am already a rabid cleaner, but at this particular point in time, I'm like Monk on Meth... any and all dirt is ridiculously obvious to me and irritates me to no end. Secondly, if you should happen to brave this question, please know it will only end up in hard labor... for you, not me. I will hand any and all offenders, no matter how cute and sweet and pie-eyed, a dustpan or wet cloth and send you packing in the direction of the dirt until said dirt is eliminated.

2. Where's my breakfast/lunch/dinner/snack?

This question is especially problematic if I am, in fact, making the requested food. Normally I'd calmly ask for your patience while I finish, but at this particular point in my sanity break, I am likely to stop what I'm doing and take a big 'ole bite of whatever I've been making and then throw the rest to whoever DIDN'T ask the question while the offender in question goes hungry. I may even throw in a loud rendition of the old "There are starving children in China!" lecture, as well. Just sayin'... you've been warned.

3. Do I have to?

Um, did I ASK you to? That pretty much means you have to. In fact, it is implicit in the asking that one should then go and do what was asked of you, or face the consequences, which in this time frame aren't pretty. My normal threshold from zero to spank involves counting and timeouts and loss of privileges before spanking occurs, but right about now my hand is itchin for some heiny and your pluckin' on my nerves will lead straight to it. This means you too, Ryan.

4. Are you eating MORE chocolate/drinking A-NOTHER cup of coffee?!

If I am, approach with caution. This is like the Orange level on the homeland security terror alert scale. It means I'm almost at the end of my rope and I may likely lose my schmidt at any moment. Back away slowly and do not ask any more questions. Pressing me further will push me to the red zone, signified by beer in hand and butt in view as I walk out the door for my 10 minute Mommy time-out, lest people be injured in by the concussive force of my raging hormonal explosion. Meanwhile, if you had just let me enjoy my Hershey kiss and cuppa Joe, things will usually drop down to level blue, or "Guarded," meaning you can ask me to read books or play video games with the reasonable expectation that I will not shoot daggers out of my eyes, and I may even smile sweetly and comply. Picture a lioness both before and after she's had a big old steak... which one would you approach... hungry lioness, or happy-sated one?

"Just throw her some Ben and Jerry's and hide until she's done"

5. Are you in PMS? (For Ryan)

Are you crazy? Do you poke the guy in the insane asylum and ask him if he's lost his marbles? Do you ask the inmates at San Quentin what they did to land themselves in prison? NO! Neither do you ever, e-v-e-r ask this question. Firstly because, duh, I'm going to flatly deny it. Secondly because, if I am, you just acknowledged that you have been observing MY behaviour instead of looking deep into your heart and thinking of the many wonderful ways you can show ME how much you love and adore me at this trying time. Think of how you would nurture a sick person... wait, no... you suck at that... think of how you'd treat your Mom if she was sick, and then act like that. Bring me food, let me watch t.v. and otherwise keep your distance unless summoned.

I'm sure at some point I'll have more to add to this list, but it's helpful to remember at this point that I love my family very much and will return to being my sweet and loving self in a short 7 days (or sometimes, luckily, less). I apologize for the bad behaviour in advance, and send hugs and kisses. I know it's tough for you guys, but I promise to feel nicer soon. In the mean time, can you stop chewing so loudly?!

Things I've noticed:

Since being stuck inside for our customary month-long winter illness stent, I've noticed a few things about my kids....

Sarah- the child is becoming more and more like the absentminded professor every day. She asks the most profound questions, like "Mommy, how does a car engine work?" or "Mommy, Why does God let little kids get sick sometimes?" and she can build huge elaborate mechanical structures with pillows and tinkertoys (MacGyver much?), but then you look at the child... she CAN NOT dress herself. I swear that on any given day at least one item of clothing on her will be backwards and she does. not. care. It's hilarious. I'll yell, "Sarah, didn't you notice your underpants are on backwards?" "No, they're not bothering me!" "But they're riding so high up your bottom I think they're gonna cut you in half soon, and that didn't occur to you?" "Nope" "Change 'em. Now." "Aw Mom!" And don't get me started on her ability to match clothing. I'm no fashionista myself... ask my mother who routinely re-dresses me when I come to her house. But this child will put a lime colored leopard print sweater with a pair of baby blue sweat pants and purple polka dot socks and think nothing of it. I seriously see her giving her dissertation someday in a red velour jumpsuit with a big green flowered headband and mismatched blue and yellow clogs on the wrong feet!

Then theres the falling. The child falls about 70 million times a day, with no discernable cause!!! She's just walking, walking, walking, and oops! and now she's down again. No cause for alarm, I've sorta ruled out all the scary medical/physical reasons and decided it's genetics. I myself have a tendency to walk into poles, walls, small children, etc. on a regular basis, but this child takes the cake. I've bought her sticky bottom socks and she still manages to bite it, in ever new and creative ways.

"I'm inventing a way to keep your child's feet from sliding all over the place... it involves hairspray and a tampon applicator...don't ask."

Caleb- the boy is destined to have Mommy-issues. He and I are stuck to each other like glue. He is my squishy, and he shall be mine always and forever. Watch out future wives, this kid only has eyes for Mommy. Seriously, at random moments throughout the day, he'll just wander over and say, "Mommy, I hug you?" The only person in creation to capture his attention away from Mommy is Dino Dan, and I'm pretty sure he's got Mommy-issues too, so it may be a kinship thing.

He also has a memory like a sieve. It only holds what he has chosen for it to trap. Ask the boy a question about fire trucks, and he can answer it. Ask him to name the parts of a bulldozer (who knew there was a part called a ripper on the back that breaks up rocks? My kid, that's who), and he's your man. But teach him a color, number, letter, or shape, and he'll repeat it back once, then the information falls right outta his brain. I taught the boy "B" three weeks ago, and now every single question I ask about a color, number, or shape is answered with "B!" And we're not talking about a little effort on my part. Whenever we read books, play in the tub, playing games, etc. I'm describing shapes, colors, numbers, letters, but for some reason, the facts just don't stick. I would worry that he has the IQ of a stump, but he can dream up fantastically creative ways to torture his sisters covertly and can name dinosaurs on sight (on t.v. I mean :)), so maybe I just suck as a teacher.


Hannah- The kid could rule the world if I could just find a cure for her laziness. She has mad fashion sense, and barely after her eyes have opened for the day she's already planning her outfit, hair, and accessories. She hits the ground running, quick to get dressed, making Sarah and I look like the indoor homeless shelter people she lives with (Sarah and I would live in mismatched Jammies if we could), but once she's lookin' fierce, I think her energy for the rest of the day is sapped. Chores and bed-making are like pulling teeth with her, and don't get me started on school work that doesn't immediately catch her interest... I think she'd set fire to me with her eyes if I didn't include craft/artwork in our school day every day. She's destined to be either an art-eest or the next (white) Tyra Banks with her stubborness, creativity, and social personality...if she can just find the motivation to get beyond the first 20 minutes of the morning and keep going.

"Hannah, you're cute and fiesty like me... if you'd just stay awake...hello? are you listening?! Gah!"

Although... I've also found the one source of exercise the child will willingly participate in. I got the kids free hoola hoops at the homeschool store last week and she has been hoola-hooping herself about. to. death. ever since they've gotten them in the house. Which is surprising given her little Buddha belly. My baby-girl has no waist whatsoever, and yet by sheer will and centrifugal force, she hoola's till she practically drops. Yay, hoola hoops!

I just wonder what kinda dirty little secrets they know about me after these last few weeks of close quarters contact...
"Hey Daddy, did you know...."
you don't think I'd put that kinda stuff out there on this blog do you? I'll wait for them to blurt it out in public at the worst possible moment instead ;)

Caleb's definitions- No. 3

Plantyentrogenous- (n.) one who studies dinosaurs. alternately: paileeontolodris. a.k.a. paleontologist.
-as in: "I gonna be a plantyentrogenous!" - the boy's been watching too much "Dino Dan"

"I a Dinoshroar Mommy! ROAR!"

Little Drainers

When I worked out in the speech therapy world, Annamary, a PT I knew, would sometimes use the term "drainer" to refer to some of our patients who would drain the energy right out of you, either because they were grumpy beyond belief, or because others would sometimes talk your ear off about no end of compaints and problems... no matter how personal those problems were. I guess sometimes people hear you have "therapist" in your title and assume you can help them with all manner of psychological issue, as well. Well now, Annamary, the old crusty drainers have met their match, with the new, improved, overly-energetic models living with me.
Motherhood is a wonderful journey, but there's a real reason why I'm so tired looking every night, and its not merely from physical exertion. Take today... picture in your mind a lovely scene, two sweet little girls building some apartment-building-like creation with tinkertoys in the livingroom, while I make sandwiches under the watchful eye of my shadow Caleb. The t.v. is tuned to my fave Christian Radio station where people are singing the praises of our Savior, and school is now finished and cleaned-up. Sounds idyllic, right? Now add audio....


"GAAAAAAAAAAH! Mommy, whatchamakin?whatchamakin?WHATCHAMAKIN MOMMY!?" screams Caleb, who is 6 inches from my face watching as I spread peanut butter on bread.
"I'm making PB and J, Buddy."
"CANIHELPCANIHELPCANIHELP?!"
"Not this time, I just want to get it done"
"WITH PEANUT BUTTER?!"
"Yes"
"AND JELLY?!"
"Yes, that's why we call it peanut butter and jelly... now can you just watch so I can hear this song... it's Mommy's favorite and I want to hear it"
(from the other room, a girl voice comes shrill-ly from the tinkertoy apartment complex)
"MOMMY! Why do you like this song? What's so great about it? Whyeeeee do we have to listen too-oooo?!"
"Because... I like it and I said so and I really wanna hear... pleeeeeease let me listen!"
(Caleb chimes in) "WHATCHA MAKIN NOW MOMMMY!?"
"Still peanut butter and Jelly, Buddy"
"CANIHAVESOME?! WITH A DRIIIIIIIINK?"
"Yes, Buddy, this one's for you, this is Caleb's lunch"
"WITHADRINK! I WANT WATER! NO MILK. WATER"
"Ok"
(Two more girl voices join in)
"I WANT MILK MOMMY! IN THE PINK CUP! DID YOU HEAR MOMMY? THE PINK CUP"
"I WANT BLUE I WANT BLUE I WANT BLUE I WANT BLUE.... MOMMY ARE YOU LISTENING? I SAIIIIID I WANT BLUE PLEEEEEASE!"
"Ok... just please.... two minutes of quiet please"
(Caleb) "CAN I EAT NOW MOMMY!"
"Almost, Buddy"
" I no want JAM! NO JAM NO JAM NO JAM! MOMMY? NO JAM!"
"It has to have jam... that's what goes on a peanut butter AND JELLY sandwich... you'll like it, trust me... you eat it all the time for goodness sake"
(All three simultaneously)"I WANT MINE IN TRIANGLES!" "I WANT MINE IN SQUARES!" "I DON'T WANT MINE CUT PLEASE... DON'T FORGET! YOU WON'T FORGET LIKE LAST TIME, RIGHT?! REMEMBER?!"
"ok" sigh.
My song is now long over, and I move all three to the table to serve. This is the pattern that repeats itself so many times over during the day. It's good to be the Mommy... they're cute and squishy and sweet and I love them to death, but it's also good I start the day with a full tank, because these little drainers are suckin the life out of me one loud demanding conversation at a time. And that's where naptime comes in... my tank is fillin up again... will I be ready for the afternoon go-round?