It was one of those days, those nutso days–you know the kind–where you wake up hoping to have a nice, leisurely cup of vanilla coffee. Yet just as you sit down to drink it, WHAM! Out of nowhere a teenage mutant ninja turtle comes flying directly into your cup. That was the first sign the day might not go smoothly.
Then, a little while later, while attempting to write, my children decided to play musical couches. I came into the room to find them leaping from the sofa to the loveseat. My five-year-old knows better. But my two-year-old found out that couches aren’t for jumping on the hard way, with a nice, big bruise on her chin. Thus, the second sign.
By noon, I’d seriously thought about committing myself to the loony bin just to get some peace and quiet. No such luck. A few minutes later my kids came charging into the room, my daughter diaper clad but without her clothes, and my son wearing nothing but Spiderman underwear and a cape. They were superheroes. Ah, that third sign’s a charmer, isn’t it?
By 12:30 I considered committing THEM to the looney bin. Finally, naptime arrived. My two-year-old slept, thankfully, but not my five-year-old. Every time I’d attempt to write, he’d inevitably have a question and come bopping out of his room. I finally gave up and admitted defeat.
By the time my husband got home today, it looked as though we’d been robbed. I’d officially been taken over by a toddler and a kindergartener. But hey, dinner was on the stove, so what if toys were strewn about over every walking inch of the carpet, right?
Then I burnt the dinner. Then I cried. Then I took a shower and put the kids in bed, where they thankfully stayed. Then I went to bed. And I knew that tomorrow would have to be less crazy than today. I vowed to take back control and put on my Mommy cape. Tomorrow I’d be more organized. Tomorrow I’d drink that vanilla coffee…