A Typical Day in Every Way

Well it's been a day.  And whenever my four year old decides to give it up and go to sleep (Dear God, could you please quiet the thunder quickly, please and thanks?), it'll be officially over as far as Mom-duties go.  (Dear God, since I just said that, could you also please prevent my kids from vomiting, having bad dreams, and/or needing superfluous cups of water overnight tonight.)  For the sake of recapping for Sam, who is enjoying the "bachelor-life" on business near Syracuse for the next couple of days, here's - a day in the life of three wild and crazy kids. 

The morning started out with Sarah letting herself out of her bed (typical), barging into the bathroom where my dad (who graciously, along with my mom, offered to stay a couple of extra days while Sam is in New York) was taking a shower, standing at the door to the shower with a book and demanding, quite verbally, that he read it to her.  At that precise moment.  Since he didn't oblige, she opened the shower door and got in with her book, fully-clothed.  I wasn't actually present for all of this, but my dad tells me he did read the book to her once they were out of the shower.

After getting Ben fed and off to school, things were settling down when Sarah disappeared for a quick minute.  Nothing good ever comes from Sarah disappearing for a quick minute.  I found her in the master bathroom.  Indulging in some toothpaste.  Sucking on toothbrush after toothbrush.  Then carefully lining them up.  On the floor.  Awesome.

Needless to say, she was not happy when big sister confiscated the contraband.

Since Sarah's teeth were squeaky clean, we left the bathroom.  As I sat at the computer, no doubt checking flight tracker and Facebook, my mom emerged from the kitchen with the question, "Jennie, did you mean to put that much coffee in your cup?"  Having no idea what she was talking about, I remembered that I'd left my nearly-empty cup under the coffeemaker and then, in a moment of A.D.D., moved onto something else. So I went to check it out.  I found this:

Turns out, my very own kitchen lady (Abby), had taken it upon herself to fill my cup to the absolute brim.  When I asked her if she was, indeed, involved, her response was, "Did I fill it too much, Mommy?"  I didn't have the heart to tell her that the only thing keeping it from pouring all over the floor was surface tension. 

The girls passed some more time in the morning with some good solid, dance moves thanks to the sweet music of our "Fridge DJ".

While Abby & Grandmom went off to Target for, you guessed it, one dollar popcorn, Sarah helped me pull up some weeds pansies, with which she proceeded to play a sweet game of  "He loves me, he loves me not."  (Okay, she's one and doesn't really know how to play that, but the way she dismantled each petal made me wonder if the rules of that game are innately ingrained in little girls.)   After the game, she collected a few  leaves....on the back of her diaper...before we called it a day in the front yard.

After sharing some Carrabba's leftovers, I put Sarah in her bed for naptime.  Things seemed to be going uncharacteristically well until I heard the harmonica.  That's all that needs to be said about that.

When Miss Priss woke up from her nap, she opened her door a crack, extended her entire arm through, and proclaimed "Here!" loudly until someone (I) came to see what the heck was happening.  Apparently, she wanted to provide some long-lost missing puzzle pieces to us, but for some reason didn't want to leave her room to do so.

We played outside for a spell.  Ben was off on "Cube Circle" with our favorite neighborhood nine year old.  Meanwhile, some malnourished, skinny blond went down the slide, and Sarah ran.  Just ran.  All over the place.

Until she cried because I wouldn't let her return to the scene of the crime head gash. She's I'm not quite ready for that yet.

We had "homemade" pizza for dinner.  It wasn't bad.  Abby filled up on breadsticks & marinara beforehand though, so getting her to eat actual pizza was tough.  She ate half a piece (typical).  We had mini chocolate chip cookies for dessert, the sight of which brought about the return of her appetite.  That child is as predictable as my late grandparents' tv line-up. 

After dinner, Abby emerged from her room with one bottle from her collection of lotions.  After squirting a volcano-sized pile into her tiny hand, she instructed me to "Smell this kind of lotion."  Then asked, "You mind if I rub it on your legs?"  I guess that's fun for her?  You know what...it was kind of nice.  Thanks, little one.

While the older kids watched Mulan (random) back in Abby's room on the roll-away cart, the tiny one apparently felt she needed to air out a little.  She entered the living room stark naked and oh-so-proud.  I'm not sure how Grandmom felt about that, especially when she climbed onto the recliner with her in all of her stark-naked glory.

So I checked in on "movie night" in Abby's room.  Nothing too surprising.

(That looks really comfy...or is it covey...silly Abby.)

Oh - and Sarah re-clothed into Abby's dress as soon as Abby opted for jammies.

Going full circle, bedtime brought about more toothbrush drama, this time by a seven year old who did not want to brush his teeth.  And went so far as to lie about having done the deed.  Caught in the act of lying, and after suffering the consequences, he wound up the night looking like this. 

Sorry, kid.  BUSTED.

And that, Sam (and whomever else is kind enough to read my rambling), was the day.  We miss you!