It's Friday
We have yet again, managed to make it through another week. Well, almost. There is still Saturday to get through, but there will be 2 parents home tomorrow which makes managing the chaos much easier. This week, like most, was filled with smiles, giggles, hugs, kisses, playing, lots of noise, tickles, tantrums, time-outs, and tears, but mostly love and laughter.
Blake spilled his milk at the dinner table, AGAIN, which is pretty much par for the course since he is usually too busy talking and pushing his plate around to actually eat anything. Why the hell do I burden myself with placemats that have to be washed, instead of just wiped down? Why have placemats at all? I guess I still have this idea (which is quickly fading while raising two boys) that I can create a lovely and put-together home. Landon inhales his dinner in about 8 minutes and proudly displays the "all done" sign (which is also the same hand signal they use for touchdown if you happen to live with football lover as I do) and is anxious to get down to play with his cars. In an effort to teach Blake a lesson, and I will admit a little out of frustration, I drag a reluctant and crying 4-year-old with me to get a towel to clean it up. On our way out of the room, we accidentally knock Landon down, who was curiously standing in the doorway of the kitchen wondering what all the commotion was. This results in me having to carry TWO crying children downstairs to get the rags. Clearly I will not be winning any mother of the year awards tonight.
On my way to start the kids' bath, I step on a wet spot in the carpet. Did the dog have an accident? One of our dogs takes medication for urinary incontinence, but will occasionally have an accident. Did Landon's water bottle, laying only a few feet away, leak? I choose to believe the latter, but knowing full well the former is the most likely, I set off in search of more rags and cleaning solution.
Finally the kids are in bed and we can sit and relax and wonder what the rest of the weekend will have in store for us.
Blake spilled his milk at the dinner table, AGAIN, which is pretty much par for the course since he is usually too busy talking and pushing his plate around to actually eat anything. Why the hell do I burden myself with placemats that have to be washed, instead of just wiped down? Why have placemats at all? I guess I still have this idea (which is quickly fading while raising two boys) that I can create a lovely and put-together home. Landon inhales his dinner in about 8 minutes and proudly displays the "all done" sign (which is also the same hand signal they use for touchdown if you happen to live with football lover as I do) and is anxious to get down to play with his cars. In an effort to teach Blake a lesson, and I will admit a little out of frustration, I drag a reluctant and crying 4-year-old with me to get a towel to clean it up. On our way out of the room, we accidentally knock Landon down, who was curiously standing in the doorway of the kitchen wondering what all the commotion was. This results in me having to carry TWO crying children downstairs to get the rags. Clearly I will not be winning any mother of the year awards tonight.
On my way to start the kids' bath, I step on a wet spot in the carpet. Did the dog have an accident? One of our dogs takes medication for urinary incontinence, but will occasionally have an accident. Did Landon's water bottle, laying only a few feet away, leak? I choose to believe the latter, but knowing full well the former is the most likely, I set off in search of more rags and cleaning solution.
Finally the kids are in bed and we can sit and relax and wonder what the rest of the weekend will have in store for us.
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