Today after school, there were about seven or so teachers patrolling the hallway. There was some sort of police activity in the neighborhood nearby so we had to keep watch of activity in the halls. While we were waiting for some sort of update, James, the financial adviser of our 403b, walked up to the circle of teachers. He remembered me and Doug by name, which was pretty impressive. When I commended him for his amazing memory, he added, "Now don't expect me to remember the names of your kids. You have two of them, right?" After correcting him and added some offhand joke about popping out another one, the crowd of teachers somewhat dispersed. James and I continued to talk about our kids and he asked the the ages of the girls. After responding with their ages (3 1/2, 2, and 5 months), he laughed and said something to the extent of "Do you have a death wish?". I laughed because this is how most people respond (because anyone with a toddler knows how things can turn out) but thought to myself:
They are pretty good girls; it isn't that bad.
Then I picked them up from Cleona's...
Braelyn cried the entire way home because she had a booger in her nose. (Imagine a two year old repeatedly crying, "I got de burger," but with an Arnold Schwarzenegger accent
.)
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| Although this isn't Madi, it's a perfect reenactment. |
At dinner, Madi and Braelyn were flipping around in their chairs and didn't want to eat their steak because it was "too saucy." Braelyn started crying and wanted a "big hug." Somehow that girl manages to produce the biggest crocodile tears ever. Madi proceeded to spill her water all over the place and began crying because she had to clean it up. Preslyn, who is usually silent, started crying because of all of the noise and because it was 30 minutes past her bedtime.
I returned to a somewhat quiet living room after putting Preslyn to bed; the girls were peacefully coloring. That lasted for all of 3 minutes. The big container of crayons spilled all over the kitchen floor. I repeatedly asked them to pick up their crayons. Thirty minutes later...the crayons were still on the floor. Tired of dealing with my crazy monkeys, I sat down in the living room while Doug threatened to throw the crayons away. (I will admit I had flashbacks of my dad making this same threat. I even had images of him breaking my sister's play broom over his knee, making a loud
crack.) The girls began to scream, cry, and tell on daddy, but still I sat...in the chaos.
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| This lady totally depicts me. | | | |
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Admittedly, there are times when bedtime for the girls is my favorite time of the day. This is the case for any parent. However, when I went to put sweet little Braelyn to bed tonight and she ran over to her bed, knelt down, and began saying her prayers, all of the horrors of the day were quickly forgotten.
