Today is one of those days that I feel it necessary to insist on my children learning to play by themselves. My 3 year old holds the unofficial Guiness record for the number of "hey mom, mom look, mom guess what's" ever said in two minutes.
By 8 this morning, make up smeared under my eyes (because I was too unmotivated last eve to wash it off), hair all screwed up because I fell asleep with it french braided loosely and wet, I'd had no coffee and I'm sure she had said those phrases or some variation of them at least 34,096,876,342 times.
I stumbled around the kitchen trying to find a clean bowl for her to have her cereal, which by the way, she's asked for at this point now about 44 times-the same exact way...you'd think she would at least try to word it differently a few times. O.o Maybe I can convince her a coffee mug would make a nice bowl for her cereal...she didn't buy it, by the way. I was forced to wash one at the crack of dawn.
Okay....cereal, check. Coffee brewing, check...The barrage of "hey moms" has begun...AGAIN. I think it's only been .000009 of like 30 seconds or something. I look at her and her entire bowl of cereal is eaten already. I think to myself: 1. Did she taste it? 2.Maybe I should enter her in some sort of eating contest-how much could I net from the worlds fastest eating preschooler...?? 3. I wonder if the idiot box (tv) will buy me time until I'm able to speak (still grunting at this stage of the morning).
I opt for the idiot box...making myself feel better by reminding myself that I am a great mom because I choose educational programming for my kids.
Back on my bed, check. Coffee, check. Quiet, check. And then........
In walks the 7 year old. He asked me the same question like 6 times before I processed it. I think it had something to do with breakfast. I wonder if the scraps from his sisters bowl would satisfy him?
Okay....that was a negative.
I grunt my way into the kitchen, to provide for the child and realize there is benefit to this. There before me is the coffee pot. Bless you coffee pot. You're the only one who truly loves me.
Okay, breakfast for...which one are you again? oh yes, Topher-the 7 year old. Check.
Cup of coffee (love of my life) number 2 in hand, check.
Back on my bed, check.
I think I'm able to read and comprehend at this point.
Both the 3 year old and 7 year old are being educated by the idiot box. Check.
Bible open. Enlightenment so I don't lose my religion later in the day.
Serenity. Coffee. I am beginning to have consistent thought that makes sense.
The 11 year old comes in and asks me what's for breakfast...progress, I comprehended her question. Being my child, she grunts her way into the kitchen and eats.
The 3 year old has been back in my room for about 30 minutes at this point, climbing on me, talking to me and I think she said "hey mom, guess what" another 152 times, but I'm not keeping track anymore. I now banish her and the 7 year old to the swing set. Crushed and broken the deprived children run to the back yard where the worlds smallest swing set (16 x 24 ft) and a pool are there for their viewing pleasure. That's not
BTW, anyone reading this, if you've heard people say before that it's pointless to buy kids big toys because they play more with the box? Well, that's not true. My kids didn't play with the box either...
6 minutes after their deportation, the 2 youngest are at the door. The 7 year old has to pee and the 3 year old needs drink of water number two. The 7 year old has weathered rain, sleet, snow and possibly the hottest temperatures our half of the hemisphere has seen to date ( probably bare foot also ) in the 6 minutes he's been out there.
I agree to let them in with their official word to play with their toys for a while, so I can get some house work done. They agree enthusiastically. I've been mothering for over 22 years now. You'd think I would've caught onto this conspiracy by now. Thirty-eight minutes later the 3 year old has graduated to torturing, I mean, playing with the dog. The 7 year old decides that dive bombing the couches over and over and over are acceptable play toys and the 11 year old hasn't been seen since breakfast.
I now pull rank and declare that since their rooms haven't been cleaned in a week, they must go clean them or risk having their toys donated to Good Will. Five minutes later, I go to spy on them.
All is well so I brave the mound of dishes. Ya know, I'm sure I washed the dishes yesterday, where did
this load come from? It's enormous. I believe it's part of a secret conspiracy in this house. They're trying to kill me.
Dishes done, check.
I move on to the enormous load of laundry that has proliferated half way to the ceiling. I nearly pee on myself when I grab a big wad of wonderful smelliness only to discover that the 3 year old is beneath the mound. ( apparently, her toys were too clean ) She squeals and giggles with glee, while my mind turns to the scene in the movie Parenthood where one of Gil's children puts on a football helmet and rams himself repetitively into the wall. (should I be concerned?)
I don't need any more coffee. I have enough adrenaline coursing through my veins to kill a whale. With my new found energy, I decide to dust mop the hardwoods in the kids bedrooms.
Floors complete, check.
Kids, where are they? I hear music and feet upstairs...ok, they're good.
I decide that chocolate chip cookies from scratch would be a nice treat. In my effort to quietly scratch open already made dough, all 3 of them appear out of thin air in 1.3 seconds. They proclaim their zeal in wanting to help me.(what good kids, I'm a good mom) Again, I've been mothering for over 20 years...I'm convinced that there's an ulterior motive in these generous moments. Case and point-we had enough cookie dough to make 36 cookies. We baked 18.
Having had my moment of glory for the day I realize now that it's 2 pm and I haven't fed them lunch. So, I do what any prudent mother would. I ask them if they are hungry. In their sugar induced stupors I'm told no unanimously...go figure.
Now, to make myself feel better about the wholesome lunch my kids got, I remind myself that there are eggs and flour in cookies. So, the lunch wasn't
that unhealthy. It was comparable to say, pizza. Then just to be sure the sugar doesn't cause a re-enactment of The Lord of The Flies, I inform the masses that they must go swimming now.
They swim, I mowe the lawn.
Lawn and weed eating done, check
Feeling accomplished I wipe my filthy sweaty face and look down to be greeted by the 3 year old who is standing beside me in the driveway, dripping...with ONLY water wings on. (The kids couldn't find her bathing suit that was laid out at the end of her bed)
She demands dinner. My mind is stuck on the fact that she's nude in our driveway in the middle of broad daylight. I wonder if any of my neighbors are paying attention to this? My mosaic mind then quickly graduates to wanting to swim like that. Uhhh...but then again, that would mean years of therapy and court costs and I'm tired of spending money right now.
Dinner goes off without a hitch. The table is destroyed and I'm left with the wreckage while the people I live with have disappeared for about 22 seconds. At this point, the 7 year old appears with a cookie in hand and says he got it for me. ( aww how sweet ) I tell him, I don't want it but thanks. He then selflessly offers to help with the worldwide hunger crisis by eating my cookie for me.
The answer is again, no.
About 1 min 35 seconds goes by and he's back and says he's hungry still. I offer him some delicious garden salad from within the wreckage on the table. He says no thanks. About two more minutes go by and he reappears with his sister (reinforcement) to beg for ice cream.
I now declare that it is national go bath your body day. Defeated and broken he retreats to the shower. His sister goes back to work on her room, where an F33 has recently touched down. I wish I'd timed this one, I could have several records posted in Guinness, via my gifted children. Dripping still, with soap oozing down his back,(at least he used soap) and wrapped in a towel, he goes to his room to dress.
Apparently, he's formulated his revenge from the ice cream denial. On the way to find the next dirty little human in need of a shower, I pass his room where he's been side tracked by a bottle of sand art. He's still wet and sand is stuck to his body in several places. The remainder of the sand is now across the bedroom floor that shined beautifully earlier in the day. I begin to talk to myself....
love is patient, love is kind.....nope, religion gone momentarily. I now shoot fire from my eye sockets and he admits the error of his ways and offers to clean the mess and his body up. (this would be good)
Victims bathed, check.
Dishes are next. This is where it gets interesting. The same human beings that were so eager to help me earlier in the day, have abandoned me and are now diligently playing with their toys. It's the conspiracy again, I'm tellin you...
Faced with the threat of dish duty, the 11 year old shoves a dagger through the "I want my kids to be brilliant" part of my heart and states, "can we read instead before bed?". Feeling the need to improve their vocabulary and help them in their Einstein journey's, I agree.
We read Dr. Suess, American Girl and a book on pirates...(I'm sure you can guess who picked what)
Oh, goody, bedtime. Ever notice when you get tired, you send your kids to bed? You don't d that?.....hmmmph...well I do.
I announce brush and pee time. What should take 5 minutes, turns into about 2 1/2 weeks. Now, my religion and my sense of humor are gone. The 3 year old is soaked down the front of her shirt and there is 1/2 tube of toothpaste with spit and dental floss in the sink, as evidence of their efforts.
Kids prayed with, check.
All tucked in, and threatened not to exit the bed or the alarm would go off and they'd be in real trouble...check.
I walk down the stairs, body aching, thanking God for the immense honor of motherhood. I'm grateful to be present with them every insane moment.
I walk to the dishes, that still haven't washed themselves, and decide to delegate that to the 18 year old who stays awake all night anyhow.
I work for a while on MY school work (finishing my BSN) for a while, check.
Bed, check.
I love my life.........
