I totally got my butt kicked today. It happens a lot actually, but today was a real doozy. And it was really only from 3pm on, but boy, it doesn't take long for everything to unravel. For example, we had rice and beans tonight and I had all the dishes done up until afternoon nap and my kitchen currently looks like I haven't done the dishes in three days. Three days! I am so out of it right now that I am just walking around my house grazing on bits of food. I was going to work out when I put the kids to bed (Sam is gone tonight), but instead I came downstairs and watched previews to a movie while I ate Manny's oatmeal from this morning spruced up with some sugar, whipped cream, strawberries and bits of granola bar that I made this morning while I let Manny watch a little too much PBS kids.
Manny was freaking out all afternoon because he was tired because he never takes a nap anymore. I think the Lord is trying to teach me increased patience because once the girls got up, they were a mess too. I finally figured out that Glory had a dirty diaper and I don't know what was wrong with Elena. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Manny kept pummeling her like he was practicing for the NFL. Only those guys wear clothes and they don't put their underwear on inside-out, front-side back, with their crotch in the wrong pocket so that there's no choice except for the underwear to remain tightly tucked in you-know-where. How can someone so absurdly dressed cause so much commotion? You would think he would be too busy just trying to remove his underwear from you-know-where.
On one of the many times where one of the girls was thrown halfway across the room by Manny's tackle, I started to scream in that terrible voice that resides just below the surface of my calm, cool, collected Super-Mothering exterior. I hate it when that happens. I feel like the worst person on the face of the planet. And it's awful because there is this day care next door and I am sure that all the kids, teachers and parents can hear me and they probably think I'm some kind of alcoholic, abusive witch of a person when really all I am is literally bombarded by people whose unknown demands I can't meet. I was on the phone with my mom at one point today and I sat down on the floor. All three kids within seconds had thrown themselves at me and I actually fell over because the force of three little people hurling themselves at you is a lot!
During Manny's time out, Elena walked over to him and they began to laugh together. I can't remember whether she had been the most recent victim or not. I felt like the only one who was on the outside of the joke. I think it is cruel that I am supposed to prepare healthy, balanced meals for these children while I am trying to referee the madness and keep everyone from losing an eye or scooping out fistfuls of water from the potty. I can see why some people resort to frozen chicken nuggets every night, but I absolutely refuse, even though my "easy" pot of beans was somewhat of a culinary disaster. Thankfully, the kids ate it with gusto anyway. We finished off the meal with whipped cream dashed with a bite of fruit. My kids don't like milk and Glory is so teeny-tiny that I am afraid she might waste away with an undeveloped brain if I don't resort to some serious measures.
The last time out of the day was met with constant screaming from Manny, "I need to go potty!" The time out is two minutes. I did not warrant his requests with a reply. He replied to my lack of reply with a strong stream of pee that covered his whole time out corner. I made him sit down in it while I got a towel. I don't want him to slip, do I? Glory grabbed a rag and helped clean up and then the girls stood outside of the bathroom and screamed while I put Manny in the shower for literally two seconds to rinse off the 65% of him that was covered in urine. Sheesh.
I felt a great sense of relief when I secured all three kids in Glory and Elena's room to get them ready for bed, but that was no cakewalk either. Neither girl wanted to be changed or dressed and Manny kept climbing on top of my head and throwing himself down onto some appendage of the babies. Then it came time to nurse. Glory can't decide which side she wants to be on and they pop on and off every five seconds for a total of about 50 latch-ons, half of which involve some level of biting. I can't believe we are still doing this, but we just dropped a feeding a few days ago and I don't want to push them to wean too quickly.
I skipped brushing the girls' teeth because I simply couldn't wrestle with them any longer and I am really hoping their teeth don't decay. Every time we brush their teeth, the sounds they emit are so horrific that I almost can't stand to be in the same room. I want to run down the hallway and hurl myself into the pea gravel pit below and ride one of the plastic cars straight to West Seattle for a Twice-Baked Almond Crossiant from Bakery Nouveau, the new most amazing thing I've ever tasted.
The best part of the evening was saying good night to the girls. They kiss on command now and Elena usually just shoves her tongue at your face and Glory gives you the sweetest, tiny wet mouth kiss you could ever hope for from a baby. I love, love, love these children and God help me because sometimes I think I will melt into a puddle of simmering, puce ooze because I am so beyond the point where I know what to do or how to salvage my experimental healthy dinners.
They say the length of time outs should match the age of the child. I think if I could send myself to the corner for 31 minutes, that would definitely do the trick and I could save myself the sore throat I currently have from shouting.
A few things worth remembering of late...
Glory and Elena were crowding Manny and Sam while they were playing before bed. Glory accidentally knocked over the snare. Manny said, "Is she sorry?" This coming from the boy who cannot see a box of anything without immediately dumping it out.
On the penis:
Manny chased Elena around the kitchen island with his penis the other day. He really knows how to win over the ladies.
Elena has discovered Manny's penis in the bath and likes to yank on it.
Manny was running around naked and Aslan sniffed his crotch. Manny ran to the bathroom, singing, "She likes my penis!" (FYI: Aslan is a boy.)
On the potty:
I think every time Manny climbs on the potty, he might fall in and disappear forever. It is like watching a toddler mount a horse. It is a complicated piece of choregraphy and once he is in position, Manny massages the toliet seat (Sam's description). After he drops the mass of toliet paper in the potty, he often tries to retrieve it and my favorite thing of all, he frequently lifts his penis up as high as it will go in the hopes of being able to see himself pooping.
Aren't you glad you read this post?
I try to think of meaningful things to say, but then I don't really write for two weeks and I think it's because that's too much pressure. This is what I've got and I suppose someday I will read this and find it quite hysterical, which was the whole point in the first place.
Time to go attack the mountain of dishes. Bakery Nouveau is already closed and Sam is still gone so I guess I better get to it.