When some people take lukewarm 3-minute showers, and perhaps don't get them every day, they are called:
-Conservationists
-Marines
-Missionaries
When others do, they are called:
-Mothers.
Let me set the scene for you a bit.
So this morning Miss Boo bit her brother again, and I had to have a big hairy talk with her and finally come down to threatening to bite her myself if she ever does it again. That seemed to scare her straight. The biting just was a hint of what was to come all day.
I thought, we'll go to Chic-fil-A for lunch and play in their indoor playground, because it's really hot (99F) and I don't want to play on our sunny back porch this afternoon. We go to Chic-fil-A and like a dummy I order the kids bright red Hi-C with their chicken nuggets, thinking "well, they do love the Hi-C". We apparently looked pathetic enough that the gal behind the counter carried our tray to us.
Littleman was sleeping in his pack on my chest and all went well while we were eating, with the exception that Bud spilled his drink on his pants and then tried to crawl under the table to lick salt off the floor. It was, of course, the middle of the lunch rush, but this didn't occur to me while we were making our plans.
We had finished up lunch and were getting ready to clean up our table and go to the playground side of the restaurant. I put everything on the tray, intending to take it to the trash can a mere five feet away.
On the way, because I'm balancing the tray of trash in one hand and holding onto Buddy with the other, I drop a french fry container and then while I am exclaiming about that, a Hi-C cup. By now we have an audience of four or five little old ladies.
Then I get the trash in the trash can, try to grab some napkins to wipe up the spill, and Bud decides it would be a good idea to grab hold of a highchair next to the napkin dispenser and roll it under my legs. Which I can't see because I'm wearing Littleman.
So as Miss Boo is helpfully swabbing Hi-C around the floor with napkins, I fall over the highchair and land on Buddy, prompting the whole restaurant to be concerned about us.
I snatched everybody up and dragged everyone home. We didn't even get to play in the dang playground.
At home I am trying to find things to do that will keep the shreds of my sanity together so I first complained to my mother (thanks, Mom, it helped a lot) and then decided art projects might be calming.
After they painted on each other, we went to playing in separate bedrooms. Then I was trying to nurse Littleman, while having to keep Miss Boo from running on the couch every five minutes, when Buddy got into the pantry and dumped out a half a bag of grain, which I then had to vacuum up because we live in dang TEXAS now and we can't leave a SINGLE grain in the drawer or we'll get COCKROACHES.
I was starting to say "dang" a lot.
So then I thought, I am stressed and my voice is probably getting raised too often. I should do something to de-stress, like working out, which seems to improve my mood most of the time. I have a 15-minute workout called T-Tapp that I am really liking. I should be able to get them to play by themselves for 15 minutes, right?
Well, kinda. It was more like a 7 1/2 minute workout, because the older two were terrifying Littleman by shoving their faces up next to him and saying "WE LOVE OUR BROTHER! HE'S SO CUTE!"
It's so dang hot that 7 1/2 minutes was enough to make me sweaty enough that a shower wasn't optional, so I carefully left them occupied in Bud's room, to all appearances absorbed in the toy horses. I took Littleman to my bedroom, and sprang into the master bathroom shower.
I came dashing out of the shower only to find Buddy had broken a pin clean off of my Kindle case, which means I need to order a new one.
All this and it's not even dinnertime.
I am waiting for something to catch on fire or someone to break out of the house and run naked and giggling to the construction site across the street.
Phew.
I do feel better after sharing, however.
Cheers,
Breanna
-Conservationists
-Marines
-Missionaries
When others do, they are called:
-Mothers.
Let me set the scene for you a bit.
So this morning Miss Boo bit her brother again, and I had to have a big hairy talk with her and finally come down to threatening to bite her myself if she ever does it again. That seemed to scare her straight. The biting just was a hint of what was to come all day.
I thought, we'll go to Chic-fil-A for lunch and play in their indoor playground, because it's really hot (99F) and I don't want to play on our sunny back porch this afternoon. We go to Chic-fil-A and like a dummy I order the kids bright red Hi-C with their chicken nuggets, thinking "well, they do love the Hi-C". We apparently looked pathetic enough that the gal behind the counter carried our tray to us.
Littleman was sleeping in his pack on my chest and all went well while we were eating, with the exception that Bud spilled his drink on his pants and then tried to crawl under the table to lick salt off the floor. It was, of course, the middle of the lunch rush, but this didn't occur to me while we were making our plans.
We had finished up lunch and were getting ready to clean up our table and go to the playground side of the restaurant. I put everything on the tray, intending to take it to the trash can a mere five feet away.
On the way, because I'm balancing the tray of trash in one hand and holding onto Buddy with the other, I drop a french fry container and then while I am exclaiming about that, a Hi-C cup. By now we have an audience of four or five little old ladies.
Then I get the trash in the trash can, try to grab some napkins to wipe up the spill, and Bud decides it would be a good idea to grab hold of a highchair next to the napkin dispenser and roll it under my legs. Which I can't see because I'm wearing Littleman.
So as Miss Boo is helpfully swabbing Hi-C around the floor with napkins, I fall over the highchair and land on Buddy, prompting the whole restaurant to be concerned about us.
I snatched everybody up and dragged everyone home. We didn't even get to play in the dang playground.
At home I am trying to find things to do that will keep the shreds of my sanity together so I first complained to my mother (thanks, Mom, it helped a lot) and then decided art projects might be calming.
After they painted on each other, we went to playing in separate bedrooms. Then I was trying to nurse Littleman, while having to keep Miss Boo from running on the couch every five minutes, when Buddy got into the pantry and dumped out a half a bag of grain, which I then had to vacuum up because we live in dang TEXAS now and we can't leave a SINGLE grain in the drawer or we'll get COCKROACHES.
I was starting to say "dang" a lot.
So then I thought, I am stressed and my voice is probably getting raised too often. I should do something to de-stress, like working out, which seems to improve my mood most of the time. I have a 15-minute workout called T-Tapp that I am really liking. I should be able to get them to play by themselves for 15 minutes, right?
Well, kinda. It was more like a 7 1/2 minute workout, because the older two were terrifying Littleman by shoving their faces up next to him and saying "WE LOVE OUR BROTHER! HE'S SO CUTE!"
It's so dang hot that 7 1/2 minutes was enough to make me sweaty enough that a shower wasn't optional, so I carefully left them occupied in Bud's room, to all appearances absorbed in the toy horses. I took Littleman to my bedroom, and sprang into the master bathroom shower.
I came dashing out of the shower only to find Buddy had broken a pin clean off of my Kindle case, which means I need to order a new one.
All this and it's not even dinnertime.
I am waiting for something to catch on fire or someone to break out of the house and run naked and giggling to the construction site across the street.
Phew.
I do feel better after sharing, however.
Cheers,
Breanna
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