Escaping to Cupcakes

Today was one of those days that every “well seasoned” parent tells you that you’ll look back on and miss… laugh at… have fond memories of.  Maybe.  The fact that I’m going to write about it probably proves that I see the humor, but you guys… today was… A DAY.

Morning:

I like to read the news in the morning.  When I was a kid, it was the newspaper.  Since we don’t get a newspaper now, I like to read internet news sites.  Not the questionable ones, real news, so I know what’s going on in the world.  It’s just what I like to do.  So after dropping Ava off at school, I came home and settled in the office to read the news and watch some news clips.   Several minutes later, Obed comes into the office and I hear him crunching on something.  I look over at him and realize he is EATING EGG SHELLS.  He has more broken shells in both hands.  WHAT??!!

I jump up, scoop him up, take away the shells and try to fish out what’s left in his mouth.  Gross kid.  We rush into the kitchen.  There I see the egg carton open on the counter, and eggs smashed on the floor.  Awesome.  From what I can tell, there are seems to be three eggs smashed on the floor and two remaining in the carton.  If memory serves me right (and lets be honest, these days… it pretty much doesn’t) there were six eggs left after breakfast this morning.  I have yet to find the missing egg.  Also, I’m really hoping Obed doesn’t get salmonella or E Coli or whatever comes from eating raw eggs.

Afternoon:

After picking Ava up from school, we come home for lunch.  Stepping into the house, I hear that super annoying chirping that tells you you have a smoke detector running out of battery.  It sounds like it’s coming from the kitchen, and I’m all too happy to take the battery out of that thing.  That smoke detector is the bane of my existence.  It’s the most sensitive fire alarm EVER.  I swear, at least 4 or 5 nights a week, that thing goes off while I’m cooking dinner.  AND IT’S NOT BECAUSE I’M BURNING DINNER.  But it sure makes me feel like a lousy cook every time I open the oven door and then all the sudden the smoke alarm is going off.  Sheesh.  Talk about a confidence killer.  So I pretty much have a love/hate relationship with the smoke detector… love that it will surely tell us when there is even a hint of fire danger, hate that it’s like a running commentary on my cooking EVERY FREAKING NIGHT.

I take the battery out and then Oakley starts in with the questions:

What’s that?  Why are you doing that?  What’s a battery?  Why won’t it work without the battery?  Why was that beeping?  Why did you take it down?  Why won’t it work???  Why was it beeping???

AUGGGHHHH!  “Baby, no more questions.”

We have lunch.  Then I attempt to make some sort of order out of the chaos that is the kitchen.  This generally feels like a losing battle, but I try.  Emptying the dishwasher is the first order of business.  Putting away the silverware is my least favorite part of the dishwasher, thus it’s become a kid chore.

“Hey, Ava and Oakley… who wants a quarter for putting away the silverware?”

This is technically Ava’s chore, but she hasn’t been great on actually doing the job of silverware and I know that Oakley will jump at the chance to do Ava’s job, thus either getting it done for me, or enticing her to do it too.  Sure enough, both kids want to help put away the silverware.  Which of course causes an argument.  Three arguments actually.  Who’s going to do the job (you both will work together), who’s going to hand the silverware over and who’s going to put them away, and who gets to do the other utensils.  SHEESH.  I’m getting a headache.

I tell Oakley he gets to put way the “kid” silverware.  He apparently doesn’t think the chair Ava is standing on is good enough because before I know it, he’s trying to get the fold-up stool out from the corner behind the trash can.  Just as I’m telling him to not do that because the trash can is going to tip over… the trash can tips over.  It was full.  It was stinky.  And now it’s all over the floor.

Sigh.

All the while, Obed is standing on the open dishwasher door, also trying to “help”, which basically means taking things out of the dishwasher and throwing them on the floor.  NOT HELPING DUDE.  I have to get paper towels out from under the sink and soon Obed is pouncing on the hand broom and dust pan that’s stored under there too.  He has a thing for brooms.  Pretty soon he is helping clean up the garbage mess.  Helping.

Ava and Oakley did figure out how to work together quite nicely so that was a redeeming factor for the whole event.

BEEP……… BEEP………  What the….  Yes.  Another smoke detector is now malfunctioning.  This time upstairs where there are three smoke detectors within 2 feet of each other. (the hall and two bedrooms).  Trying to figure out which one is beeping should be easy, but let me tell you, more times than once, Jeff and I have stood up there trying to figure out which one is making noise, take out a battery, and it’s not the right one.

I don’t have any more fight left for the smoke detectors.  We live with the BEEP for the rest of the afternoon.

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one cute moment from the day

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Playing together makes many things right

 

Dinner:

Five nights a week, Jeff is not home for dinner.  Dinner has become my least favorite part of the day when Jeff isn’t going to be home and tonight he’s not home.  I become a really mean person at dinner time… probably because little kids WEAR YOU OUT.  And by dinner, I have no more patience. I just want to eat in peace but there is no peace at dinner.

Obed has a bad habit of sitting in his highchair and SCREAMING like a TORTURED MONKEY until he gets his food.  Trust me, that alone is enough to put you over the edge.  Add in two other crazies, more food ending up on the floor than should be necessary in any circumstance, and complaints about not liking what’s for supper… it’s enough to send me to the crazy farm.

Because of all this, I spent 10 minutes after dinner hiding in the basement eating a cupcake… because sometimes you just have to ESCAPE THE CHAOS.

Bedtime:

Tonight, bedtime is at 6:45… usually it’s 7:30.  But tonight, 6:45.  Yes.  All the kids had been upstairs playing while I finished the dishes in the kitchen.  When I finally make it upstairs, I’m met in the hallway with Obed holding the potty pot and Ava telling me that Obed has been playing in the toilet.  Oh good heavens… yes, he’s taken taken it upon himself to empty the potty pot into the toilet.  From what I can tell, he managed to actually get the pee into the toilet for the most part, but then decided it was a good idea to play in the water.  Or possibly the unemptied pee as well because he now smells like urine.  SO GROSS.

WHEN WILL IT END??!?!?!?!?!?

It ends at 7:10 when everyone is in bed, I have no energy for more than one Bible story and the most generic prayer I’ve possibly ever prayed in my life.

The end.

More than once today I thought “I could be sitting in an office right now.  I could be wearing nice clothes and high heels and pretty hair instead of an old fleece shirt and velor pants with ugly hair, and dealing with adults and being productive and fighting the headache of the copy machine running out of toner rather than all this baloney.”  I sure could be.  Today was really, really trying.  And I’m whining about it in this post… even though I see the humor in some of these things, I’m whining.  But deep down, I know it’s really not about me, what would be easier for me, what would be more fun for me.  Deep down, I really do believe that what I’m doing now is making a difference, and besides, it’s what I think I’m supposed to be doing, what God wants me to be doing and what is best for our family.  And Lord knows I can’t see or quantify my efforts now and most days I feel like I’m totally failing and someone else would do a better job than me teaching and loving these kiddos.  But they got me, for better or for worse.

So lets hope that Obed doesn’t get salmonella poisoning from eating raw egg shells, we can figure out which smoke detector needs a battery and tomorrow, maybe, just maybe, Jeff can BE HOME FOR DINNER.