Well, I'm ashamed at how long it's been. All the crazy moments that could have been potential blog posts and therefore enabled us to remember them in the years to come, have come and gone and not left much time for anything else but mere survival. And some of the moments are still a little too fresh to write about. You know how you laugh about things later on...well it just hasn't been later enough yet for a few things. So, I missed a few memorable moments but there are crazy moments day in and day out around here.
School has begun and we are back in the swing of things. Or I guess you could say back in the "piles and piles of laundry to be done-floor always a mess-pajamas strewn all over the house-lunches to be made-barely make it out the door-completely zonked by 9:00" kinda days.
Every year when school starts I wonder how I am going to get everything done. Seriously. There just aren't enough hours in the day to get what I need to get done and definitely not enough hours to do the things I want to do. That is probably why there is almost always a load of clothes in the hamper, a load in the washer, a load in the dryer, a fresh batch I forgot to fold sitting in the basket getting all wrinkled, and a recently purchased book sitting on my iphone, unread. And also why my gym attendance is shamefully pitiful.
But, I do love this time of year, crazy or not. Fall is nearing and I cannot tell you how happy I am for cool weather. Last week was the hottest, most awful week ever. But, finally this weekend we had sweet relief. And hopefully it's here to stay. I'm seriously tired of sweating.
Cale and Keaton are now going to the same daycare, which is pretty handy. Mornings are a bit wild, trying to get both boys fed, dressed, packed, and locked into their car seats. But that's just the beginning. We then stop and pick up Kenzie...Cale's "favorite girl in the world", and also his cousin. She's no trouble at all and we love having her, but sometimes getting in the daycare door with three kids is pretty tricky. Especially on "bring your lunch" day...which occurs every Wednesday. And sometimes on that same day is "bring a toy" day. And it never fails, this is usually how it all plays out:
I park the car and begin unbuckling seat belts. The kids start to get out, while each handing me their backpack, then their water bottles, their lunch box, and last...their toys. Because of course they can't carry them for some unknown reason. So I have a bajillion things in my hands, a one-year-old on my hip, a three and four-year old running ahead of me, and sweat dripping down my face by the time we reach the door.
Last week, that exact incident occurred. Except that Cale was having one of those mornings that I like to call him "Carl's son". I pulled up to school and began getting Keaton out of his seat. Kenzie quickly got out of her seat on her own. Of course I had to grab all of the items that the kids can't seem to carry, and then I started to walk up to the front door. I noticed that Cale was not getting out of the car, so I headed back and tried to speed him up. He was still sitting in the car messing with some piece on his tractor, his scooper, I believe (probably not the technical term) Now, I would like to say that after firmly but gently talking to him, he decided to get out. But no, it didn't happen that way. After a minute of me threatening him with corporal punishment and a removal of a "good boy" buck from his piggy bank...which he had been saving up to buy a Thor hammer from the super hero section of Wal-Mart (hey, you do what you gotta do), he started to get out of the car.
That's when he noticed Kenzie on the steps by the front door. Shouldn't be a big deal, right? So, she's ahead of him...who cares? But, in three-year old world, on this particular morning, this was THE big deal. Cale stopped mid-step and dramatically threw himself on the ground and began crying. Now not only are my hands full with a bajillion things and a one-year old who would really prefer walking himself, but cannot be trusted to go where he's suppossed to go just yet, but there are parents everywhere dropping their kids off. So I have an audience. Yep, a fellow librarian passed by with her child, who was sweetly walking in while holding her hand. The doctor who delivered me walked past with his child, which reminds me, next time I see him I need to ask him if maybe he got our child mixed up with another that day in the hospital. Hey, it happens. Another teacher-friend I know was dropping her little one off. And all of these kids were walking in like normal human beings. Normal. Why can't things ever be normal for us?
And there I was bending over, trying to grab my child to make him stand, all the while dropping things left and right. As I got him off the ground, he jerked his arm away and took off back to the car, got inside, and slammed the door. I gotta say, on the inside I was beginning to lose it a little at this point. I ran, or awkwardly shuffled, trying to keep my cool and act as if I have this situation completely under control. I threw the door open and grabbed Cale out with more force than I thought I could have, considering my full hands and the thirty-pound ball of energy on my hip. Let's just say if I hadn't had the audience, I would have given Cale "something to cry about". And I probably would have given it to him two or three times.
By the time we got inside I seriously was sweaty and weak and pretty eager to drop my little "angels" off. It's those kind of moments that make me glad to go to work. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of other moments when I think it would be so nice to spend the day with them instead of working. But, then they wake up and I come to my senses. When I got back outside, I realized I no longer had my key in my hand. So, I searched along the ground and finally found it, in the vicinity of where out little "scuffle" had taken place. I got in my car, took a deep breath, turned on the A/C full blast, made a note to myself to get out the "strong-willed child" book and read it again, and then called Carl to tell him what "his" son had done.
I love my strong-willed older child and his, thankfully, less-strong willed little brother. Love them like crazy. But boy do they make me tired.
Oh, and by the way, this morning we had no meltdowns or tantrums. But, there was still a major catastrophe. Once I was already down Crow Mountain, by Flying J gas station, Keaton vomitted. Four times, actually. All over himself, his car seat, and a little on his cousin Kenzie who was sitting right beside him. What a trooper she was. So, we headed back up the mountain with the windows rolled down, gasping for fresh air. I dropped Keaton off with Carl and then took Kenzie home to change her clothes. I was twenty minutes late for work.
And you think your mornings are hard?
