This morning was no exception.
The tv was NOT turned on. The children were looney, feeding off of each other.
While they SHOULD have been eating breakfast, Sydney had a placement shoved down the back of his pants and was standing, dancing on his chair while his younger brother admired with awe. As Silas reached for a placemat, I confiscated them all off of the table and moved them to the laundry pile on the kitchen floor, instructing the boys that we DO NOT WANT to put place mats down our pants.
"Hey, don't...." he whined as I removed the placemat from inside his underwear. "...that was my platypus tail!"
(I know, I know.... this scene is so much funnier when it is someone else's kid.)
While attempting to get him dressed, he dodged invisible bullets from the dining room, shot out of an ordinary number two pencil by his younger brother.
"Focus. PLEASE!" I begged. "Pretend like he isn't there. We NEED to get dressed. NOW!"
After underwear and pants, I had been whapped in the face by the flailing arm of a five year old trying to maneuver like the bullet dodging scene of The Matrix.
"Sorry, Mommy." he announced as I adjusted my glasses back onto the bridge of my nose. "Ahhh, LOOK OUT!" (More bullets, I assume.)
Repeatedly, they had been told to put on their socks and/or shoes.
Running late, it was the mom who had to find two books for the backpack, as well as load a lunchbag, knowing good and well that he will eat almost NONE of it yet again today.
It was the mom who had to grab the jackets.
It was the mom who had to do an inventory of the boot bag.... boots, hat, snowpants, ONE MITTEN?!?!
"Sydney, I warned you that you have to keep track of your mittens! We are running out of mittens!"
"Check my coat pockets! I think I put them back there so I wouldn't lose them again!"
Thank goodness for small miracles... his complete set of mittens WAS in his pocket! (Sadly, we now have a collection of left mittens... three DIFFERENT left mittens!!!)
"Let's go." I announced.
The boys continued to be wild and zany. "Get in the car. Put your seat belts on!" I yelled, making my way to the door looking like a bag lady.
Crap. I forgot my purse. Back inside to get my purse for the 1.2 mile journey to the school, knowing that the later we arrive, the longer the drop-off line will be.
Mornings are so stressful.
I make my way to the door again and there they are... running around like lunatics in the driveway, nowhere near the car. The three year old clutches to his sippy cup and wears his jacket backwards, likely using the hood for a carrying compartment for his cup. The five year old makes eye contact as I start to yell "Get in the car, put your seatbelts on does NOT mean run around the driveway like a dummy! Come on... Let's go! We're running late!"
Shit. Did I just say that outloud?
"Run around the driveway like a dummy!" they mimic like a pair of talking cockatiels ... or dodo birds. "Like a dummy!" they giggle. "Like a dummy!"
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It wasn't very nice. It's just.... I was frustrated."
At this point, I am SO FRUSTRATED I am ready to E-X-P-L-O-D-E.
We manage to get to the school and drop him, along with all of his bags and make our way to run errands.
The only thing saving me right now is knowing that I have a 45 minute deep tissue massage scheduled for later today...
AND.
I.
NEED.
IT!!!!
So much funnier when it doesn't happen to you...
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