Here's the low down on today...
I had to pry all three kids from bed this morning. I think Annie was the most unwilling participant. She's like one of those fainting goats that can just drop to the ground at a hint of drama. She simply went limp this morning as I tried to get her dressed. It's hard enough to do the job one handed but, dang! Trying to clothe a 30 pound sack of potatoes might register as hysterical to a game show host but at 6:00 a.m. to a mom, it's maddening! When I finally got her dressed, she took her shoes back off and said that she wanted to wear animal feet. I didn't even try to figure this out until this afternoon when she said it again. She wanted BEAR feet - not bare feet. Geez. I wish I'd gotten the joke this morning. A laugh might have saved one or two of my remaining nerves.
I finally got the kids out of the house without too much drama. Grant cried all the way to school because he says that he still hates middle school. Dasha told him that he needed to be friends with some of her "friends" and that just made him even more upset. She was just trying to help but it was just the wrong time! I finally freed myself of all three children and took on 21 more. However, the day went smoothly and was the best of the week, actually.
I managed to sneak out of the building at 3:30 to go pick everyone up from their appointed facilities. When I arrived to pick Annie up, I was greeted by three toddlers acting like dinosaurs and roaring at each other at the top of their lungs. I absolutely don't know how Fatima does it all day. She was actually smiling and laughing and playing along. Whatever! I grabbed Annie and RAN! Stupid of me, though. She kept roaring while strapped behind me in the car seat. Peaceful was not one of the top 100 words I would have used to describe my wait in car line today. However, the big kids piled in and seemed to have had a good day. I was relieved about this because I just didn't know if I would be able to endure another night of Grant's drama!
For a treat (for myself more than the kids), we stopped at Chick-fil-A. No sooner than we'd sat down, Annie assumed the position. Really? Assuming the position means she's going to take care of her business. When we're at home, she has a certain corner she goes to. She likes to wait until we're home but obviously, business couldn't wait for the special corner today! She sat down in the booth on her knees and curled up like a turtle. Then, the noises ensued. Come on now! I just wanted to eat my darn chicken sandwich and relish the thought of not having to wash pots, pans, or dishes. I thought about taking her outside to save the rest of the restaurant from her antics but the family behind us left so I just kept eating like there wasn't a grunting two year old balled up in the seat next to me! However, I almost choked on that stupid sandwich when Annie stood up and announced that she was finished with her raisin poopy. Why? Why? Why? And, let me tell you. The girl isn't quiet about anything. The entire Dwarf House heard her. Ok, so, since she's been so stopped up, I've commented once too often evidently that she either has rabbit poop or raisin poop. Hmmmm..... Strike one for mom. At this point, though, Grant and Dasha were laughing hysterically and Annie thought it was funny too. Then, she continued to describe her business with other descriptors. Her next shout out was, "I did chicken noodle soup poop!" I promise that I was trying to quiet her down and tell her that we don't talk about poop in restaurants. My undoing, though, was when she looked me square in the eye and said, "My poopy has sprinkles!" Come on, now! What two year old thinks of this stuff. I immediately gave Grant the evil eye because it sounding like something he might have coached her on and he immediately got defensive and claimed innocence. At this point, I gave up on finishing my dinner and packed up Annie's (she was too busy to eat) and headed everyone out the door. I admit that I didn't change her diaper until we got home and she was correct. It was raisin poopy! I never said she was dumb!
I have a ton of paperwork to deal with tonight so my plan was to put the girls down early so Grant could help me without having papers scattered everywhere by the girls. I got Dasha into the tub (no Nair tonight) and headed Annie to bed. I've become a big proponent of only bathing toddlers every third day. I'm sure there's some research out there that would support my belief. I believe it builds her immunity to germs and dirt. (I'll take any out I can get). However, even getting Annie into bed has become a circus in it's own rite. Annie no longer wants me to read to her. She wants to read to me. Most nights, it's cute and just makes me think she's brilliant. Other nights, I begin to wonder if her imagination is beginning to edge on psychotic! One night last week, she kept telling me to look toward her closet because Swiper was in there and going to get her paci. (Yeah, she still has it and might until she's 25). Tonight, she wanted me to sit in her lap so she could read a book to me. I tried in vain to reason with her but she wasn't going to give up. SO, I gingerly squatted over her lap (my quads are still burning) so I wouldn't smush her and awaited story time. She wanted to read this silly book called No No, Yes Yes. It's definitely one of her favorites. She flipped the pages and talked through each picture. When I do get to read to her, she doesn't like for you to actually read the words. She wants to discuss everything and talk about it. (Hmmm... sound like anyone you know - DADDY)? But, her commentary tonight about made me forget to hover over her and lose my balance and squash her.
After making sure that Annie was sufficiently caged, oh, I mean tucked into her snugly covers, I went back to check on Dasha. She had indeed gotten a bath as I'd ask her and was sitting getting dressed. I don't allow her to close the door completely any more because of all of the drama we've had so I can also peek through the crack and see what's going on without her knowing. Tonight, when I peeked in, she was drying off and then grabbed her deodorant off of the shelf. At first, I was impressed. She's actually remembering to use it! Then, I stood horrified as I watched her bite into the top of it. It's the stick kind so she literally bit off a chunk. I threw the door opened and scared her to death. When I took the deodorant from her, I saw that there were multiple bite marks all over the top. How long has she been eating this stuff? Maybe I'll look back and find this humorous in a few days but it was just about my undoing tonight. How am I supposed to do long division with this child when she can't even be reasonable enough to not eat deodorant? There were so many ugly thoughts that ran through my head that I wanted to hurl at her but I don't think any of it would have helped. Once again, my frustration was mostly due to circumstances and not HER. I sent her on to bed. She said that she hadn't brushed her teeth. It was on the tip of my tongue to bite back at her and tell her that the deodorant would kill any germs and keep her breath fresh as a meadow but somehow, I managed to keep my mouth shut.
If that had been the end of it, maybe I wouldn't be sitting here with my heart pounding in my ears still. As I was signing agendas and making sure everything was ready for tomorrow, Grant ask me about ice cream money for school. We'd already decided that they'd get ice cream once a week. When I reminded him of this, he said, "Well, why did Dasha have ice cream today?" Crap. I don't know. Maybe it looked like deodorant! She didn't get money from me, though, so how did she pay for it? I hesitated whether I should even engage with her about it tonight but I was afraid that maybe she'd stolen the ice cream and would make the same attempt tomorrow. Basically, when I finally cooled down enough to reengage with her, I asked her if she got ice cream and she confirmed that she did. When I asked where she got the money, she pushed her glasses up on her nose. That's the number one indicator of guilt for Dasha and it's usually the one thing I don't want to see when I ask incriminating questions. After several rounds of interrogation, she finally said that she'd gotten the money from a bucket in her closet. What the heck? Dang! If I'd known there was some sort of magical money bucket in the house, the last few months wouldn't have been so hard! Of course, I went looking for the bucket. It was a small metal pail filled with what I thought was just change. However, when I put the pail down on her bed and the change tipped to one side, I saw that there were some bills underneath. Huh? After dumping out the money and counting it, there was close to $7 in change and $15 in bills. I asked her in every way I could conceive about where she got the money and she never gave me an answer. What do I do now? I'm tired. I'm weary. I'm wondering what my future looks like. And, honestly, I'm not liking the whole situation. That was the last conversation I had with her before she went to sleep. I'm just too tired to handle anything else in an intelligent or loving manner.
So, I'm headed to finish grading a pile of papers about 12 inches tall and then going to crawl into bed (after locking up the deodorant, my purse, and any things Swiper might swipe from Annie's room, or dinosaurs might nab)! Tommorow is another day.
Good night, all!
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