some throwback notes...August 21, 2007

Let's just say that the title says it all. When you are a mom of 2 toddlers, you have to expect that your day will not go without some sort of wrench - but come on, sometimes I shake my head and wonder if I am some freak of nature attracting disaster at every turn!So my loving husband started his new position yesterday, which means that he has to leave the house at 7:00 am to arrive on time. This would normally not be a problem, but when I have to have been to work and back by that time, that means that I am up and out of the house before 4:00am. Yep, 4 - freakin-a-to-the-double-m.Tuesday mornings at work are an interesting experience. Monday nights are Karaoke nights, and while I thought that the popularity of Karaoke went out with the 90's, apparently I was wrong. Either that or the few people that still take part in such endeavours are very spilly talkers. I know this because I encounter HUGE sticky puddles each Tuesday morning. And, as an aside, at least one toilet has been vomited in. So these spilly-talking-retro-90's-throwback-karaoke divas cannot hold their liquor. On that note, why is it that bar bathroom vomit always looks like chicken stew? My advice? If you are going drinking, do not consume chicken stew beforehand, and maybe we will all end up happier (and smelling better) the next morning. Okay, back to the puddles. Each of these sticky puddles is in a semi liquid/semi solid form, and they tend to attract lint, dust and debris. SO when i am doing my pre-mop sweep, I am faced with a dilemma: DO I try to sweep all the junk out of the sticky mess, or do I try to pick it all up with the mop? Some days I sweep, some days I feel all reckless and I just mop over them.Today, I decided that a good sweeping was in order - I was feeling strong, no sticky puddle was going to get the better of me. We stared each other down, eye to sticky-puddle-messiness and feeling that I had won, I began with the dust mop. Many people would not know this, not being familiar with the mechanics of a dust mop, but it really is only meant for dusting. Hence the name dust mop, I suppose. It is merely supposed to glide over the surface of the floor, and pick up dry goods. When it comes in contact with a sticky puddle, it has this annoying way of sticking itself, flipping upside down and spewing all of the previously well-collected dust and debris everywhere. GRRRR. So this morning, the sticky puddles won, and I resigned myself to just mopping them up - score 1 for the sticky puddles. Arriving home before the sun comes up is an odd concept as well. I am still all geared up from my battles at the bar, not to mention the 2+litres of diet Pepsi I must have drank while I was there. It is hard to wind down and relax once I come into my quiet abode, but relax I must. As tempting as it would be to start my day - washing dishes, emptying dishwasher, doing some laundry, none of these tasks is particularly quiet, and so for fear that I may wake up the tyrants, er...I mean children, I sit and devote some time to Bible study.Have you ever noticed how a cat comes running at the sound of a can opener, no matter how far away they are? Tony and I have come to the conclusion that our children choose the very moment that we begin to make a coffee to wake up screaming!! So I now hesitate to even drink my blessed caffeine filled beverage. Today was no different. No sooner had I sat down with a nice steaming cup of joe then I heard the wailings of the girl. And when the girl starts wailing, you had better go running, before the whole neighbourhood is greeted to her special version of good morning song.Okay, so fast forward an hour or so, both children are awake now, and surprise, surprise, they both have runny noses and coughs. This seems to be a weekly or bi-weekly occurrence (more on this in a future note). So now i am dealing with whining, snotty children, a wet Kleenex in one hand, a lukewarm coffee in the other, resorting to turning on Treehouse so keep them quiet for a moment.We play, we nap and then I decide that we MUST go out. Why do I inflict such torture on myself? I do not know. I really should have known better - it is chilly, raining, my kids are snotty and grumpy. But still, I decide that today is the day that I must go pick up storage bins for the garage, and hooks for all of our various lawn implements (rake, shovel etc.)We head to Home Depot, and greet our first catastrophe of the afternoon. The "Race-Car Cart" is no where to be found. If you have ever been to H.D. and seen this cart, you would know what I am talking about - it is a ginormous cart shaped like a race car, and both the children can be strapped in, facing forward, and each has their own steering wheel (although Sam has the unique quality of taking over both steering wheels at once). Well, wouldn't you know, there is no cart to be found, so I have to go through a plethora of "boring" normal carts to find one that a) had a working child safety strap and b) is not soaking wet. Sam then REFUSES to get in the cart, instead deciding that she would like to walk. I agree to allow it (silly silly me) and then spend the next hour chasing her through H.D. You never really realize how much breakable/expensive/dangerous things there are in a store until you let your 2 year old walk by herself. So we leave, not having found what we were originally looking for, both kids by this time whining and crying and drooling and snotting all over me. Yay, fun trip.One would assume that at this time I decided to call it a day and come home, but no. I, in my infinite wisdom decide to try another store, the great Canadian Tire. We find the bins (I am now lugging two huge bins, huge lids and a cart full of germy children, trying to negotiate aisles not meant for such girth) and my lovely daughter, bless her heart, decides that NOW is the time for POTTY. and by NOW, I mean RIGHT NOW, as in 5 MINUTES AGO. I furiously race around trying to find a public washroom sign, and then hastily decide to drop the bins and make a mad dash for the cash registers. She is madly jumping up and down, holding her crotch yelling POTTY! POTTY! The cashiers direct me to the automotive department and tell me to ask for the key. Off to automotives I go - to be faced with a lineup! Can you sense the tension building?? Here is Sam now screeching POTTY!! POT-TY!! and the young lad behind the counter casually glances my way and nods over to the service desk, where i see the gleaming key on the end of a paint stick. I dump the cart, unbuckle the boy and grab the girl, who now has a small puddle forming on her jeans. We rush into the potty and ---- she matter-of-fact tells me that she doesn't have to go anymore. I think it is more like performance anxiety, but she tells me, NOPE, she is all done. Feeling somewhat dejected, we walk out of the bathroom, toss the key back on the counter, and retrieve all of our dropped items. I pay for our things and head to the car.NOW do we go home? Oh no, truly a glutton for punishment, I drive to the pharmacy, just for a quick trip, to pick up my prescriptions. While paying at the counter, I reach into my back pocket for my debit card and realize that I am wet. not just a little wet, but like soaking wet. Jack's cup had been overturned and leaked his milk out the bottom of the diaper bag, all over my butt and down the back of my leg. GREAT. But the adventure does not end there - Sam looks up at me with a horrified/nauseous look on her face, squeaks "potty" and pees all over the floor. I clean up the mess (I could go on and on about this but I think you have had enough for one day) and take her outside, where I change her into the spare undies I have thankfully packed in the diaper bag. We head home, and now here I sit, having eaten, cleaned and pyjama'd the kids with the help of my hubby.Yes, tomorrow will no doubt be a similar story. and the next day, and the next. But these days won't last forever and one day i will look back on all of this and laugh. But not today. today, I am going to have a shower and go to bed early. That is, if I make it out of the shower without any major calamity!Thanks for readingGod BlessTara