chaos

Holy cow, nothing in this world can frazzle a person like three busy little children. I love my boys, but I am the first to admit that they run the show around here. I may be in charge, but that doesn't mean I can control everything! This morning for instance went something like this:

7:00: Wake up to Mr. two year old crying for food. I had to remove Oldest from my legs by rolling him onto Daddy. Sorry about the rude wake up call Daddy! Step out of bed and collapse on the floor. Apparently the oldest had been cutting off the blood circulation to my legs and I think I may need a minute to retain proper blood flow. (ouch........needles!)

7:15: OK, I'm now "up and at em," as my dad used to say, and searching the cupboards for fruit cocktail to appease Mr. two year old. Apparently nothing else will do. Found it! Good, now where is my can opener? Not in the drawer, why that would be too easy. I'm now on all fours, searching through cupboards for the missing can opener while Mr. two year old's patience is growing thin, (this I can tell by the increased volume of his whining) meanwhile, Oldest has found a video he wants to watch and has turned the volume way up on the TV. The blast makes me jump and I bang my head on the roof of the cupboard I'm crawling in. Like Lightning McQueen I run, while rubbing the bump, to turn down the volume. Too late! As soon as the volume of the television decreases, I hear a startled baby awake and screaming upstairs.

7:20: Still haven't found the can opener, but baby needs to get up, so I travel up to retrieve him with Mr. two year old in hysterics over his fruit. I assure him that I haven't forgotten, and that I'll only be gone a moment and race upstairs to welcome Baby to the day! Daddy is already picking him up when I get there, but he has to get ready for work, so he hands him to me and heads into the bathroom for a shower. Baby is now happy to be awake, and shows me so by playfully ripping my glasses from my face and shoving them in his mouth. One handed I remove them from his tight grasp, and wipe the smudges on my p.j.'s before shoving them back onto my face. They are still smudged, but they'll do for now.

7:25: "Holy cow, I'll get your fruit, just calm down little one!" Mr. two year old had been temporarily distracted by Oldest’s video choice while I was getting Baby, but now that I'm back down stairs, his mind has returned to the fruit. Baby needs a new diaper, but he'll have to wait a minute. My search for the can opener resumes and finally after a few more minutes I find it wedged inside the baby bouncer in the corner. I open the can of fruit and pour it while being climbed on by Mr. two year old. I pour some into a bowl and put it on the table. He's so excited he claps and knocks it to the floor.

7:30: I'm pouring a second bowl of fruit. I do have the can opener this time, so it goes a bit more quickly. Unfortunately Baby has now entered the picture and the mess of fruit on the floor is very tempting. He dashes to it and slips in the juice. His mouth bonks hard on the kitchen floor and his wailing is loud enough to pull the oldest away from his show. "I'll clean it," he says and runs to the laundry room for a mop.

7:40: Baby's happily eating cheerio's in his high chair while I am busy cleaning chunks of fruit cocktail from the mop. The oldest and Mr. two year old are now both at the table with their cereal, fighting over the box. I retrieve another cereal box from the cupboard, but apparently it's not as cool as the first, and the storm continues over the cool box. After an unheeded warning ("stop fighting or you'll lose the box!"), the box is removed from the table. The storm now transforms into a hurricane and it's heading straight for me. I leave them at the table to calm down and run upstairs for a second with daddy.

7:45: Daddy needed something to wear to work, so now I'm ironing a shirt in the kitchen while the boys blow bubbles in their milk. Laundry is not my forte, but I throw a load in the washer while the iron heats up. Daddy will need lunch too, and the boys need baths, so as soon as they are done, (and after I throw together a few quick peanut butter sandwiches, Daddy’s personal favorite by force) I round them up and head upstairs to the big bath tub, leaving the breakfast clean-up for later. As I'm getting them ready for the bath, Daddy comes in to say goodbye. The boys are already stripped down, but we need to pray, so we kneel in the bathroom. A three minute argument over who gets to pray ensues, and finally Daddy ends up saying it. Well, at least we're trying!

8:00: Here I must repeat what I have written before.... holy cow! Three men in a tub didn't go very well in the nursery rhyme if I remember right, and three little men in a tub, I can personally vouch for, is a little insane too. It is quicker than three separate baths however, and so we give it a try. "Oldest stop splashing, Baby sit down, Mr. two year old don't drink the water, Oldest, don't dump that on Baby, It's ok Baby, Mr. two year old don't pee in the tub, ok everyone has to get out now, we need to change the water!"

8:30: Getting Baby dressed is not as easy as it used to be. My husband wrestled in high school and he's taught me a few moves. As tricky as Baby is to get dressed, I'd have to say the older two are harder. Mr. two year old is refusing to wear anything with long sleeves, though the temperature is around forty degrees outside, and Oldest insists on wearing a yellow button up shirt with orange sweat pants. "Where on earth did we even get these pants" I allow him to wear them, but he has to agree to change his shirt……done.

8:45: We have to leave by nine to make it to story time at the library and so far so good, except that Baby has now dirtied his diaper again and I haven't looked in the mirror once today. I pull out my wrestling moves once more and change Baby.

8:50: I'm in my closet deciding what to wear. Oldest is hiding behind the door and Mr. two year old is begging to play Candy Land. Baby is trying to pull my alarm clock out of the wall. I run to rescue him from electrocution and accidentally run over Mr. two year old's game board. He's not happy, but Baby is. He thinks electricity is a game of some sort and heads straight back for the outlet before his knees hit the ground. I remove the alarm clock from the wall and push a plastic plug cover in, Daddy will have to reset it again before bed tonight, sorry Daddy! I pick a shirt and pair of pants, they don't have too many noticeable little finger stains on them so they'll do.

8:55: I'm dressed and brushing my teeth. I've spent more time cleaning my teeth than on my hair. I glance at my pony tail in the mirror and shrug.......good enough. Baby's playing with deodorant, Mr. two year old is scribbling on the potty with my eyeliner and where is Oldest? "Oh no!" Oldest is hiding again. He started this daily tradition a few weeks ago and sometimes finding him can be tricky because he is more silent and patient while hiding than during any other time.

9:00: Found Oldest in the pots and pans cupboard downstairs, he revealed himself after I threatened to keep everyone home from the library. I grab the keys, grab my phone, grab the i-pod, grab the bag and head for the car. Oops, forgot Baby! Go back inside and grab Baby from his pile of DVD's wondering all the while why they are so irresistible to him, last time I checked they weren't electric.

9:05: Back in the van the oldest two boys are hiding behind the back seat. Once again the threat to stay home gets the ball rolling and within two minutes everyone is strapped in. "Mommy, I have to go potty." I hear softly from the back seat followed by the louder version from Oldest, "MOMMY, HE HAS TO GO POTTY!" Frustrated but happy that he's telling me instead of just going, we run back inside and take care of the business. While inside I remember that I never switched the laundry from the washer to the dryer, so I do that while Mr. two year old is going. He finishes, we wash hands, grab a binki for Baby, turn off the light and run out to the car.

9:18: We're on our way! Everyone is fed, (expect me, woops, did I even eat?) happy, and ready for the library. We'll be a little late, but that's not out of the ordinary. We arrive at a stop sign and I take a second to glance down at my feet. "Rats......... I forgot my shoes!"