the anatomy of expediency: child style

Almost every morning I wake up to one or more child(ren) crying and immediately and groggily start making plans to do something with said roosters for the sole purpose of getting us out of the house. It's crazy! There's something about being inside with toys and food and each other that seems to encourage and foster a hostile environment littered with fighting and whining and tends to drive a certain child shepherdess insane. My/her plans are usually something simple along the lines of walking to a playground, going to the grocery store for one food item (tortillas and bananas, we always need more of those, it seems) and three free cookie "samples", or going to say hi to Simon if he's free for a few minutes at the hospital. God bless summer, even if it is hotter than a broiler some days. It still trumps the paralyzing cold. Always.

On Wednesday of last week the trip du jour was going to be the playground. The far away playground by the hospital because I was feeling generous and adventurous and there is ample shade and dirt for digging and nary a swing to fight over.

I started getting ready as soon as everyone was awake at 6:58am and made a firm resolve that we would be happily trotting out the door NO later than 9am.

NO LATER.

... but everyone is full from first breakfast, second breakfast, and a snack. So, there.

I wrestle the boys into outfits and spend too many minutes looking for matching shoes for Sebastian that don't send him into an emotional tailspin because they, "hurt me feeeeeet!!!!" ...

Julia is obsessed with drawing things or letters on this and then asking us, "is this ..... the letter e?!" or "is this Christmas balls?" (ornaments? yes) or "is this how you spell S for Bash?" etc.

She recently spent a LONG time coloring the ENTIRE screen in and was completely disgusted and exasperated that I couldn't figure out what it was (a baby wipe, duh).

After 99 rounds of toddler Pictionary I try to slip in a selfish little hygiene session by way of some teeth brushing, face washing, and (the vanity!) mascara swiping.

Theo joins and starts signing*, "please" because he is a lover of the forbidden lotions and potions in the bathroom.

*I made this sign up, I think it's actually the sign for "more" but I was tired of his grunting for everything all the time so for some reason I feel better that he does his begging via faux sign. I also made up a motion for, "sorry" but Simon says I can't teach him a fake language so we only do that one in secret. Don't tell.

fine. come join me.

Then we finish that up and I lock the bathroom door from the outside (see here) but Theo sweet-signs Sebastian into sneakily pulling a chair over and unlocking the door ....

wearing Julia's jegging shorts, MUCH to Simon's delight.

I drag him out, relock the door and start the process of deciding if I should go full-exercise-garb-minus-the-exercise mode or try a little bit. I go with a mix.

AND AGAIN.

Giddy with GLEE. Sebastian has wisely retreated to the basement.

Make a note to talk to Simon about how he feels about a chairless existence until the kids turn the age of logical (ever?), feed them a second snack and 89 sips of ice water, and eventually go to check on Grumpy ... who is oh so patiently waiting to get the show on the road ...

wearing her playground bow.

break up five consecutive fights between Julia and Sebastian, talk Julia off a ledge when she can't find the whisk she's taken to sleeping with under her pillow, and change Theo's bomb.

And she's still waiting ...

search high and low for the baby wipes, ANY pair of sunglasses (broken or not), my phone that is in my hand, and seriously, where are the wipes?!

In the mean time she's become mobile ...

And finally reaches the end of her long and virtuous rope.

Find the big kids using the rubber strip meant to go under the front door as a race track of some sort ...

And remember I was going to put those diapers away. So I do. And then feed them a third snack/small lunch to get us through our imminent sojourn and consider scrapping the whole trip because we have been working toward departure for well over five hours and I really like to get the kids all tucked in for naps right around one but I persevere ...

for a 20 minute drive, an 18 minute prize, and a 20 minute drive home where Theo enjoyed a four minute power nap that he assumed counted for his three hour soul-saving siesta (no, never).

I don't remember how I ever got Julia and Sebastian to preschool before noon but we still have two (WHAT) more weeks to practice because apparently their school enjoys eternal summers of parental torture (JK! if her wonderful teachers happen to be reading this - doubtful as that may be).

The end. 

Until tomorrow when it begins again.

:)