Ain't gonna find that here. I'm keepin it real.
Here's a teeny tiny glimpse.
5:45 am : the joyous sound of childrens laughter, squealing out Knock Knock jokes, much like this.
"Knock Knock" (Baloney)
"Who's there" (Middle)
"Apple Pie" (Baloney)
"Apple Pie who?" (Middle)
"Knock Knock" (baloney) and so on.
6-7 am. Door opens repeatedly as happy children ask if we are awake. We say "No." and they leave. Repeat 28 more times.
7am: Hubbylcious makes pancakes. Baloney throws fit at table about peanut butter. We love when she throws fits. It's the sign of a well rounded toddler.
8 am: Clean up syrup off table. Prepared to sent out the Syrup SWAT team to 2 of the 3 girls locations. 2 of the 3 girls scream. We like screaming. Screaming is the sign of healthy lungs (or a possessed creature....)
9-12. The children find various ways to put the
Middle and Oldielocks grip and complain that they have to *gasp* clean up the large mess the tornado left behind. That or apply for federal aid, and federal aid comes in the form of early bedtime, no tv privileges or wii time. Authority has a bad rap around here. They take the clean up choice,though not without trying to make a plea bargain. The D.A. came back with no lunch until it's clean. I can't type the scene after that, let's say it was not pretty.
Baloney takes a nap, for a whole whopping 45 minutes. Wakes up cranky. Proceeds to crank for the next 45. I have decided that when she wants to run away from home when she's 9, I'm not stopping her. In fact I'll start packing for her now.
Kids do kid things for the next few hours, like Middle riding bikes in a dress that is dangerously close to the wheel, starts to fell off the curb, but sings her way through it. Singing as she drifts into the bushes.
Oldielocks mopes around, saddened by the death of Flippy. Flippy died. Flippy is an origami frog. That flips. Made out of green paper that got wet. So she is having services for him. Or something. Only in my house would this happen. We mourn all things. Origami frogs, missing shoes, last roll of T.P.
Dinnertime is chicken fried rice. We insult all cultures here by trying to make their food. I ask Oldie to get her sisters. She turns around and yells for them. Looks at me... and laughs. I told her it's gonna be really funny when we all eat and she has no plate. I tell her I will laugh. She giggles more. I can't win. Baloney comes to the table, and proceeds to point and tell everyone "NO, wait for others." They all are waiting patiently as she points to herself, and says "You may eat", and does. She apparently is not held to the same standards.
After time, Oldie and Middle fight over how to equally divide 7 cookies amongst 5 people. I made 40 last night. 7 are left. Hmmmmmmm.
Baloney, in the past 5 minutes, pulled up her shirt, stuck at her belly, and in her throaty voice said " Yook at my belly. Shake Shake shake."
My day is not over. There were no sweet drawings, homemade bread or fresh pressed linens involved. But I laughed a lot, refereed a lot, and was surrounded by my kids. Cranky, yelling, happy, silly and all.