A Day in the Life...

I guess my life isn't so different from other moms'.  My kids wake up waaaay before I'm ready for them to and holler, "Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Moooom. MOOOOOOM!" until I stumble to their bedroom, hoist them out of bed and then stagger blindly down the hall to the living room, where I dole out whatever edible thing finds its way into my hands first, wait the interminable minutes while the computer loads so I can turn on a show at least 45 minutes long, and then slog back down the hall to drop onto my pillow while the kids enjoy their only-at-7 am-freedom to eat in front of the TV (in our case, the computer). I know the show is over when they come back down the hall hollering, "Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Moooom. MOOOOOOM!" and my day has to officially begin.
Thus started my day, the other day, and continued with a muffin-making fest (wherein we open a package that reads "just add milk", dump it in a bowl, have a fight over who gets to stir, slosh the batter into muffin tins, and slide the pan into the oven, in just under 45 minutes! I don't know how on Earth this possibly takes so long, but I have decided that the rule to determine a recipe's actual prep time when cooking with children is: figure out how many kids you have, add to this number each of their ages, then multiply the total by the prep minutes listed in the recipe. And then add 15 minutes for the requisite tastings, food fights, and subsequent time-outs. This is how long it will actually take you to prepare this dish.). So anyway, we made muffins. And then we got dressed (refer to a previous posting on how this goes daily), we listened to Judsen give his hourly animal lecture ("A butterfly is like a stegosaurus." "It is?" "No. It's not. A stegosaurus is a plant-eater. And Tyrannosaurus rex is a meat eater. And he is a predator. And giraffes eat leaves." He impersonates a giraffe eating leaves. "And a great white shark!"), and we once again got after Felicity for standing on top of the table scavenging the remains of her brother's breakfast. (It's not so much the scavenging that bothers me, it's the fact that she will attempt to get herself off the table by stepping into her booster seat, dancing wildly  while holding to the top of the seat like she's a trick pony rider, and then sliding herself off the seat backwards letting her legs dangle into the great beyond. If she's lucky, there will be a chair that she can ease herself onto and from there to the floor. More often than not, the chairs are missing because she has pushed them to random locales around the house and she has to flop onto the tile and hope for the best.)
Finally it was nap time, and in my house, that means for all of us, Mom included. Felicity went down like a child with a mother as good as me should :) and being the nice mom I am, I told Judsen he could have a nap in my bed with me. This is a rare treat, and I was feeling generous. After all the events of the morning I was feeling quite tired and was eager for this respite. We laid there quietly for a moment and just as I was slipping into sleep, I hear Judsen begin whispering what sounds like every word he knows. Why the dictionary recitation has to happen right now, I have no idea and quickly ask him to stop. "I'm not saying bad words, Mom. I'm saying 'brains'. 'Brains' isn't a bad word," he reassures me. "Okay, you're right. 'Brains' is not a bad word. But right now it's time to go to sleep." "Okay." Aaaaah. Once again, silence. The sleep sea is licking my toes with its waves when all of a sudden, pinch. Pinch. PINCH. Judsen is grabbing my nose and giggling to himself. This is a horrible game Josh and Judsen play, where they hold me down and try to pinch my nose, which I HATE. I play along like a good sport, you know, all in the name of family fun, and Judsen has decided that right now would be a great time to give it a go. "Judsen! Please go to sleep! And don't touch my nose!" "Okay." (naughty little giggle) A third time I am almost relaxed, when a bullet shoots through my back. Judsen has stretched himself horizontally across our queen-sized bed and is using my spine as target practice for his high kicks. Needless to say, he got banished from my bed and sent to the guest room.
I would love to say the story ends there, but I was interrupted a fourth time by my little imp sneaking into my room and turning on his toy drill full blast, 6 centimeters from my head. With threats of death, I send him back to the guest room. The fifth and final straw comes when I hear a giant THUMP! Judsen starts crying, as does Felicity. Judsen has pulled something over in his room and has hurt himself and awoken his sister in the process. I believe the phrase that came out of my mouth at this point was something like: "@#$%!! &*#$@!!!"
Since we're all awake now, we decide a little lunch would be in order. This is a good thing, since we have an appointment we need to make it to in just a little while. So, being Efficient Mom, I decide to let the kids eat while I erase the un-sleep from my eyes and put myself together. I put them in their chairs and their lunch on the table, and head towards the bathroom. And then the giggling begins. And goes. And goes. And goes. I know there is way too much laughing going on for them to be eating a single particle, but decide to have a little faith in my kids and finish getting ready, since we are now down to about 15 minutes until we need to leave. I'm almost done when Judsen comes in so covered in milk its practically seeping from his pores. "I'm wet," he says. Yes. I see that. In horror, I imagine what the kitchen must look like for him to be this soggy. I run in there to find Felicity doing her dismount from her high chair (which we've already discussed), but otherwise conditions are not as bad as I feared. I strip Judsen to his undies, instruct him to clean up his mess and go to get Felicity re-dressed, which requires also stripping her, since she is smothered in red velvet cookie, macaroni & cheese, her brother's milk, and several other nameless substances. While I am scrubbing and dressing her, Judsen wanders in and I ask him to get dressed. You know how this part goes. He doesn't. I ask. He doesn't. I finally break down and yell (not my best moment) and he still doesn't. Finally we are two minutes past appointment time and I march him out to the car and strap him in his carseat, stark naked except for those Finding Nemo underpants. "Fine, Judsen. If you won't get dressed, then your friends can just see you naked. Do you want your friends to see you naked?" At first this seems like a novel idea, and he nods. I take my shoe-less but fully clothed daughter and my shoe-less and fully un-clothed son and drive to meet the ladies we are supposed to meet. As I'm driving through the streets with a naked child in the back, I am certain I am going to get pulled over. And how do I explain? (Although, after that morning, I'm sure there's not a man on the planet that would want to tangle with me.)  We arrive and I open the car door. Judsen begins to watch his friends pile out of their car and reality finally sets in. Oh, man. My friends. My friends are here. My friends are here and my clothes aren't. My friends really might see me naked. This might be wrong, but after all we had been through, it was somewhat satisfying to see the look that crossed his face as he thought this through. His arms come down over his body to cover himself and he says quietly and somewhat frantically, "I will get dressed now. I am listening." I tried to keep my smile to myself as I helped him get dressed. Score one for Mom.
The good thing about motherhood, though, is that even if your day starts like this one, it doesn't guarantee it will end that way. After a nice visit with our friends, we had a spontaneous picnic. We grabbed $4 worth of food from the Chick-fil-A drive-thru, pulled up in the Michael's parking lot, threw open the back of our van, and enjoyed the beautiful afternoon together. We even visited Michael's in an uncharacteristically uneventful fashion and I found the little candle holders I was looking for. All in all, it was a good day. A memorable day. A day that I will remember a little bit for the grief of the morning, but mostly because I was blessed enough to enjoy a gorgeous day with the sweet spirits I have been given stewardship over. I am a lucky lady.