Frenzied Friday

Such a day!

First, the good news. The Small One slept in her own bed ALL NIGHT! Well, ok, from 9:30 until 5:30, but that counts as all night, right? There was one moment, after midnight, when the man and I were watching a movie (silently, reading subtitles, so as not to wake her), when she thrashed about, woke herself up, and stood up. My dear husband stage whispered at me through his teeth, "DON'T LOOK AT HER!"

I didn't look at her. Then she put her head back down, and I peeked, and she popped back up, and the Man hissed at me! "WOMAN!"

It made me giggle. And then she lay her little self back down and that was that. Until 5:30.

Sadly, I did NOT sleep all night. I was not feeling well, and spent a great deal of time awake, and actually had JUST begun to doze when Small One woke up and joined us in our bed. Thankfully, she went back to sleep and slept until 7:45. (I would've preferred 9:15, but what can you do?)

Middle Child was home with a stomach flu, so of course there was much moaning and declining to do any chores, which made me tired again before I was even fully awake.

My sister in law had to have a procedure done today, and I was to drive her and then pick her back up, since she needed to be under general anesthesia. I was trying to be all organized (not my strong suit), and I had this great plan to get up this morning and be all perky and clever and put dinner into the crockpot before I left, and maybe even leave early. Uhh... no. Didn't happen.

I don't know if I've ever mentioned it here before, but I really think running a household full of kids is pretty much like giving a pig a pancake. And in case you don't know what I mean, I'm referring to the charming series of children's books (If You Give a Pig a Pancake, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, If You Give a Moose a Muffin, etc) that urge children to consider the consequences of their actions through the weaving of cautionary tales wherein one thing leads to another and soon you're building a tree house with a pig in your backyard, and your house is a wreck.

Anyhoo, if you want to make dinner before you leave to take your sister in law to the dr, first you'll have to force your Small Child to eat breakfast. She'll probably be in a clingy, whiny mood, and buck and squirm and resist, and refuse to eat anything but grapes, so you'll have to wash the grapes, and when you go to wash the grapes you'll remember that you were supposed to be washing a chicken in order to put it in the crockpot. In order to wash the chicken, you'll have to clear the Big Kids' breakfast dishes out of the sink so they don't get contaminated by chicken nasties, and when you do that, it'll cause the dishwasher to be full, so you'll need to run it. Turning on the dishwasher will remind you that your Oldest asked you to wash a particular shirt, so you'll go into the laundry room to start the washer. The howls of protest from your Small One will remind you that she is still not pleased with the idea of eating a waffle, so you'll go back in to wash the grapes, and come face to face with that chicken, still waiting to be washed and put in the crock pot. You'll wash it and get it started, but then you'll have to bleach the sink before you can wash the grapes...

Yeah, so you get the idea. I was NOT early. But I got there just in time, whisked her off to her appt, and since the Small One had by this time fallen asleep, we obtained permission from the nurse for me to drop the sister in law off and leave. The nurse was to call me on my cell when it was time to pick her up. Because I did not feel like driving all the way home, I went to a nearby mall and parked under a tree, intending to read while Small One napped. I kept turning the fan on and then back off, because it was hot out, and I ended up chatting with my mother on my cell for a while.

Whoopsie! Cell phone starts chirping out its sad little battery death song. I decide that a trip home must be made after all, to retrieve the charger. I turn the key in the ignition, only to hear the very disappointing ratatatatatat sound of a run down battery. Whoopsie part two! Seriously dumb move, all the fan turning on business. I call the Man, frantic. "I'm at the mall," I say, "at the corner of Bloomingdale's, behind the Container Store. I hate to say it, but I need you to grab my phone charger, bring it up to me, and jumpstart the car, because the car is dead and the phone could go at any second." He groans, but agrees.

Ten minutes pass. I turn the key again, and the engine roars to life. Hooray! Well, ok, but not really, because the Man is on his way here unnecessarily. I call to tell him I'll meet him halfway. He does not pick up. What?!?!? Did I mention I'm stranded with a dying phone? And a toddler? I try him again, and my phone dies. Argh.

About this time, Small One wakes, and says "Drive car, Mommy!" I explain her we're waiting for Daddy, but when ten more minutes pass, with no sign of Daddy, and Small One growing increasingly insistent, even throwing in some sign language in case I didn't understand what she meant by "drive car", I start circling the parking lot. When forty-five minutes have passed, I'm absolutely beside myself. It occurs to me that the gas station across from the mall might have a pay phone, so I head over there. I call the man, and he says "I'm here at Macy's and I don't see you." Argh again.

I'm twenty minutes late retrieving my sister in law, which obviously means I am not in the running for Sister In Law of the Year. She was quite good natured about it, to her credit. I dropped her off at home, and decided to stop at a local produce stand with the Small One, who'd at this point been in the car for about five hours, with very little respite. When I released her, she immediately started running laps around the support pole of the little shed, which, strangely enough, did NOTHING to quell the cries of "AREN'T YOU PRECIOUS?!?!?!" from the very enthusiastic produce lady.

In fairness, Small One was wearing this outfit, which does make her pretty hard to resist:
But! What I found very interesting is that the lady kept saying "Oh, you're a KEEPER! Your parents should KEEP you! You're a KEEPER!" What a weird way to compliment a child, by planting the question in her head as to whether her parents were planning on letting her stay. Besides which, does that woman ever start crowing "Oh, you're NOT WORTH KEEPING! Your parents should SELL you!" to any other children that come by? Makes you wonder, doesn't it?

Got home, raced around making dinner. Roast chicken, fresh butter beans, fresh cucumber and tomato salad, cornbread... quite an undertaking. As I'm putting the finishing touches on the dinner, Oldest breezes through the kitchen. "Hey, Mom, don't know if I told you, but I'm not eating here tonight- Dad's taking me to the football game, and then out to dinner!"

No, you didn't tell me. So I cooked this beautiful chicken for me, a toddler on a hunger strike, a teenager with a stomach flu, and my vegetarian husband. FanTAStic.

Will anyone blame me if I refuse to leave my bed tomorrow? I feel about like this:

My Friday, the Old and the Small of it

So Thursday was hectic, to put it mildly, and I didn't fall into bed until 3:30am. When I had to get up at 6:30 to make sure the big kids were up, well...that was pretty darned early. And were they up? Not so much. Oldest was in the shower, but Middle Child was still firmly tucked into her bed, and when Oldest emerged as I was coming out of M.C.'s room, he snarled at me that he DID wake her up, she just didn't listen to him. (Which may have been true.)

I would've stayed up to help them get out the door, but they were basically surly, snarling, vicious creatures, and I was not too interested in losing a finger to one of them. I retreated back to my room, where the Small One was calling for molebats. (Or something.) I did stick around long enough to be chastised for not waking them up earlier, as now M.C. wouldn't get a shower and Oldest wouldn't finish his lab.

Tried in vain to get the Small One to sleep in, but alas and alack, off we went into our day. Midway through the morning, I got a phone call from the high school, that went something like this:

Man: Mrs. Momtype? This is Dean Importantguy at the high school, and I have your Oldest here in my office.

Me: Mmm hmm?

Man: Yes, well, we are WELL into second period, and he has not been in class, and a teacher found him in the bathroom working on something.

Me: (silence in which you can hear crickets chirping, because I'm not sure I WANT to know what he was working on in the bathroom)

Man: Er... I think it was some kind of homework. (speaks to my child, away from phone) What was it, son? Uh huh. And when was it due? Uh huh. (back to me) It was a lab, and he says he left his book at school and couldn't finish it, and it was due second period. And that's THIS period. But we're WELL into the period and he hasn't been to class.

(And yes, he did mention to me SEVERAL times about which period it was and the fact that he hadn't been to class.)

Me: Mmm hmm, well, I know he was concerned about. So what happens now?

Man: Well, I'm going to have to give him a detention. Because (say it with me, folks) it's well into second period and he hasn't been to class.

Me: So... what does that mean? I have to pick him up late from school?

Man: No, no, it'll be Tuesday, and you'll have to pick him up an hour and a 1/2 late.

Now, at this point I got tickled. Because while I do appreciate being kept in the loop, my son most assuredly would have come home and told me what was going on, because he would've needed a ride on Tuesday. So really, not that important to call me right now, and anyway... what a HORRIBLE offense, right? Doing homework in the bathroom at school- what's next? You know, that's how it starts, and pretty soon they're doing schoolwork at home, and science projects on the bus, and where does it all end, I ask you? Hooligans! So I giggled.

Me: Well, I guess there's really not much chance of getting through high school without ever receiving a detention, huh?

Man: (taken slightly aback) Erm, well, actually, I was surprised to learn he was a senior, because I've never seen him before, and so I thought he might be a transfer student, but he tells me he's been here all four years. (said a bit incredulously, as if the kid had probably just transferred in and was trying to pull one over on the dean)

Me: Yeah, I guess that's because he's usually a pretty good kid. But thanks for keeping me informed.

I hung up, and got a text message from my Oldest about five minutes later that read:

"Yeah, so that pretty much sucked."

Meanwhile, back in toddlerville, my sister-in-law had invited me to come paint handprint tiles with them at a local pottery place. Though I typically think that taking a toddler into a pottery place is about as much fun as taking a fork to my eyeballs, I agreed, because a)it was for the in-laws,b) Small One loves her cousins, and c)I had some things I needed to bring to my sister-in-law, and the pottery place is closer than her house. It was determined that we would meet in the afternoon, after Small's nap.

Only napping was not in the plan for my youngest child. I got her to sleep, and five minutes later she was running through the house, yelling at me in a loud voice. After about an hour of trying to get her back to sleep, I stuck her in her crib (aka "baby cage") so that I might shower, and after 45 minutes of her calling to me from her crib, I took her back out and stayed with her on my bed until she finally dozed off. Of course, this meant that once again I had to break the rules and wake a sleeping baby, but I waited until the last possible moment (and actually beyond the last possible, as I was 30 minutes late) and then fed her lunch in the car.

The pottery adventure? Bit of a nightmare. Have you ever heard the expression "bull in a china shop"? "Toddler in a pottery shop" is, in my opinion, at least that stressful. And not because she's not a good girl, because really, she is, but she did want to take all the breakable things off the shelf, and she didn't want to put her painted hand on the tile in a flat way, but insisted on making it into more of a squid shape, so that it was VERY tricky to get more than her fingertips on the tile. By the time we left that place, I was wiped out. So of course, afterward, we went to a toy store. With two 2 year olds and a 4 year old. Because we are gluttons for punishment.

On the upside, she did demonstrate her rather remarkable intellect in ways that tickled me, both on the drive over, and in the toy store. On the way over, she was playing with various toys, and doing what I call "toddler conjugation". She'd pick something up and say, for instance, "Zebra. Baby's zebra. MY zebra!" and then nod and smile, and move onto the next item. In the toy store, she picked up a cow puppet and said "Oh, wow- a COW! Moooooo, cow! Mommy, cow." and at that last "cow", she did the sign for cow. LOVE her. And when it was time to go, I anticipated a fight, but no, I just suggested that she tell the toys goodbye and she did... individually.

"Bye bye cow! Bye bye, kitty cat! Bye bye monkey! Bye bye, cars! Night night, balls!" (Why the balls got a "night night" instead of a goodbye is anyone's guess.)

And since I mentioned the signing, I'll leave this rather long narrative with the video of my Small One signing, in case anyone on the planet earth has not yet seen it.