Keep Your Friends Close and Your Toddlers Closer

I pull a Tombstone pizza out of the oven, sneeze, and pee my pants.

Damn.

I quickly slice pieces for the kids, pour them some Gatorade (mixed with water, I'm not a monster), and try to silence the voices in my head telling me that the preservatives and refined sugar in this meal are most definitely going to give them ADHD and cancer.

Hey! Self! You've had bronchitis for a month. You are pregnant. You haven't been able to sleep more than 3 hours/night in a week. They'll survive. It's ok to be imperfect.

But is it?! I immediately picture 10 horrifying articles posted by well meaning friends that prove that it is in fact NOT ok and that with each frozen meal I cook or (gasp!) pop in the microwave.. I am slowly but surely poisoning my sweet babies. My heart aches.

Ok guys, mommy has to run upstairs and change. Work on your pizza ok?

Ok mamma!
Kaaaay!

So sweet. So innocent.

After searching through the pile--nay, the EVEREST--of unfolded clean laundry covering my bedroom floor for 2 minutes I snag a pair of underwear and leggings, get dressed, and race back downstairs. 2 minutes was plenty of time for my kids to cover their bodies with pizza sauce and knock their Gatorade-water on the floor. Henry has pulled his stool away from the island and over to the counter. He wobbles precariously on top of it, victoriously waving the pizza cutter in the air.

I rescue Edward Scissorhands from himself and am too exhausted to get angry about the pizza-tastrophe.

Ok guys. Dinner is done. Bath. Now.

Yay!!! They squeal and get naked as they run up the stairs, throwing pants and diapers and underwear into the air like confetti. Bath! Bath! Bath! they chant. I follow them up the stairs frantically trying to wipe their hands with baby wipes as they smear pizza sauce all over the walls.

Once they are in the tub and satisfied with the quantity of bubbles, I breathe and remind myself Ty will be done with his meeting in an hour and a half. I can do this. They are so happy in the tub! They are nutso but I really have the sweetest babies. I really do... Sigh..

I cough and pee my pants again.

DAMN.

In the 30 seconds it takes me to run to my room and put sweats on they have somehow flooded the entire bathroom floor. I step into the bathroom before I realize what has happened and soak my socks.

Nothing pisses me off more than wet socks. Nothing.

I yell like a maniac and say this bath is DONE! DONE!!!! I use all 2 of the clean towels in our house to soak up the lake formerly known as our kids' bathroom. I lecture them about wasting water and the dangers of mold damage and they look at me like I'm speaking Portuguese. I drain the bath water and go searching for clean jammies. I can't find one pair. While I am looking they start to refill the tub and dump out an entire bottle of shampoo. 

To pass the time until the bath fills, they begin throwing their bath toys into the toilet. They can't play catch from one foot away but when it comes to tossing toys in the toilet they are draining shots like MJ. What the heck.

GUYS! I fish the toys out of the toilet and put them in the sink to sanitize later. Add it to the list. You don't throw anything in the potty! Ever!!!! I shout with my squeaky half-voice. Understand? You guys are making me crazy!

I am reminded that I need to call a plumber about our powder room toilet which is currently clogged since Henry flushed a half roll of toilet paper down it. I remember I need to call a contractor about the laundry room door that my little Hulks have somehow pulled off the track. I step in a still-damp blue spot on our carpet and realize that I really do need to call a carpet cleaner about this situation that happened the day before when a sweet babysitter thought my kids were napping upstairs:

I cry an ugly cry, dress my children in the comfiest clothes I can find, and tell them to get in bed. I will bring them their milk. It is 6:18 p.m. and tonight, that is bedtime.*

*Author's note: Not every night is like this. Fear not, humans of the world, we are not raising a couple of Caillous over here. (I hope!) The redeeming moment of the evening actually came when I served my kids their pizza and Violet grabbed our hands and prayed this prayer:

Dear Father,
Thank you for this wonderful day.
Thank you for this delicious pizza that you and Kelly made for us.
Thank you for helping my mommy feel better.
Amen.

Amen.