I’m gone one day at an amusement/water park without my kids (hey, making commercials is a tough job but somebody’s gotta do it), and I come home to complete Momageddon!
Our Thursday began normally enough – Me juggling two, unhappy toddlers in my lap while balancing a phone on my neck; trying to keep the bride on the other end of the phone from deciding she NEVER wants children…
The rest of the morning went pretty smooth; the babies even went down for their nap early…and without a fight. I even remember thinking to myself, after having an awesome phone call with one of my wedding venues, that today is a GOOD DAY!
Then…the babies woke up!
Bianca heard the babies first and sprung from her coloring station next to me at the kitchen table to go visit her sisters while cheerfully saying, “I hear babies, mommy!”
“I’ll be in there in a minute,” I said trying to finish typing an e-mail.
(Note to self: I can trace almost all horrific, child attacks that happen in my home back to me and my computer. It’s like my computer is Kevin Bacon and my kids’ bad behavior is every other actor in Hollywood…six-degrees of separation.)
“Mommy, one of the babies peed in their bed!” Bianca yelled from the girls’ room.
“Okay, okay…I’m coming,” I sighed stepping away from my work.
I walked in to find a giant wet spot on the girls’ sheet. I began patting the girls’ clothes to find the culprit, but everyone seemed pretty dry… I began to go through a mental checklist as I started changing diapers, ‘Did the girls bring a sippy-cup to bed?’ No. ‘Did Bianca bring a cup of water in when she came to see the babies?’ No…
“B-i-a-n-c-a?” I began, not wanting to believe what was crossing my mind… “Did you pee in your sisters’ bed?”
“Noooo,” she said ducking behind the changing table.
“Brylee?” I asked. “Did Bianca pee-pee in your bed?”
“Yes, Bad Sissy,” Brylee said.
“I just had to go real bad,” Bianca began. “I couldn’t make it to the potty!”
“So you took your panties off and squatted in your sister’s bed?” I asked. “Why would you do that?”
The day continued on a downward spiral that included such highlights as me spending forty-five minutes with a Magic Eraser crouched on Bianca’s time-out stool attempting to scrub pink Sharpie off our white cabinets; and me finding the twins eating a box of Red Hots that they wrangled out of the safety latch on the spice rack cabinet; and me getting SO frustrated with my computer that I began yelling expletives which led to the following conversation between me and my FOUR-YEAR-OLD.
Now I know I should NOT be cursing in front of my young, impressionable children. But in my defense, I spent – literally – two hours trying to send one e-mail…that I had to retype five time because every time I would hit Next it would erase my message! Who could keep from yelling, ‘#*@! You $*@#! of #@*%!”?
My daughter looked over at me from the couch where she was watching Curious George and asked, “What does that mean, mommy?”
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” I apologized. “It kind of means stupid.”
Without missing a beat Bianca said, “Mommy, stupid is a bad word. Why don’t you try yelling Damn It instead?”
I couldn’t decide if I wanted to go run ten miles or drink a bottle of wine…so I decided to curl up in bed. I’ll try it again tomorrow…