Tuesday, 1 December 2009

Holy sweet mother of smurfs!

What an evening!! One. thing. after. another. and. it. didn't. stop!

So, everything was fine until Jean-Paul left for work. Alex saw some new craft stuff and I said, "we'll do that soon, please don't open it yet." I finished unloading the dishwasher and saw her put the craft container (of foam shapes) back on the counter. She said, "that crack was already in it." I thought that comment was a little weird. As I was getting a couple pieces of construction paper out for them to put these foam shapes on, Zach grabbed another piece of paper which Alex quickly grabbed back from him and she proceeded to put it back in her hiding place. I saw that it had the new foam shapes already on it. The construction paper and new foam shapes were put away and they did not get to play with them tonight. She did not listen and then she LIED and tried to hide that she hadn't listened. She sat, sulked and tried not to cry. And now, instead of them doing something creative and requiring brain activity while I got dinner ready, the tv got put on.

Zach decided to help me with dinner instead of watching tv. Fine. Instead of getting the step stool from the family room (which I should have, but I was lazy), I let him use a Little Tikes chair. We had already said no more standing on those chairs (because he's a spaz and keeps falling off.) So, a couple issues here. 1) I'm breaking a rule we just set out (so much for clear boundaries, huh?) and 2) did I mention he's a spaz? Oh, and what are we making for dinner? French toast. With eggs. Four of them. They were cracked, put in ceramic bowl and mixed. He did a good job breaking the yolks and stirring. I stepped to the side for a moment to turn the burner on. In that blink of an eye, Zach somehow went ass over tea kettle over the BACK of the chair. He somehow went over backward, but landed flat on his chest. And what did he use to try and stop his impending free fall? THE BOWL WITH THE EGGS! I managed to stop the bowl from smashing on the floor, but not before the egg went all over Zach... the chair... and the floor. I turned the burner back off, picked him up, started wiping him down and de-clothing him. He managed to get egg on every single piece of clothing he was wearing, including his diaper! I was trying to comfort him while all this is going on, but even I draw the line at cuddling an egg-covered child. I got him stripped down, clothes rinsed off in the kitchen sink, and we went into the bathroom to wipe him down some more. Then we went into his room and got some jammies on. (Zach still crying.) He finally calms down and I plunk him back with Alex - who is still watching tv oblivious to what just went down in the next room. Now back to the kitchen to finish completely start dinner over (on my own.)

I finish dinner. One piece of French toast for Zach - he didn't like it last time, but insisted he wanted some for dinner tonight. Yup, he didn't eat it this time either. Two pieces of French toast for Alex - at least she's a fan. And three pieces for me. As I was clearing away their plates, I had asked Zach to sit still. He bounced up, hit my hand and the plate - the full plate of French toast and SYRUP - went flying. This is where "Christ!" was uttered for the second time tonight, followed by the f-bomb (under my breath, but still). The volcano erupted, I yelled at Zach to SIT. DOWN. RIGHT. THERE! Butt to floor in 0.3 seconds flat.

Just as I was about to clean this up, the doorbell rang. I opened it - damp paper towel in hand, syrup still on the floor in the living room - and exasperatedly said "Hello...'?" to which the doorbell ringer replied, "Um. Are you the homeowner....?" I have never been asked that before by a door-to-door salesdude. Did I mention I was still in my PJs at this point, with no shower? A short little conversation followed. "I'm from blah blah home security and we're..." I cut him off and said, "We're not looking into anything new right now. Thanks." With that I was alone with my two kids again.

With dinner done it was playtime in the basement. That went fine(ish) until the two offspring began fighting over a CONTAINER! I decided it was time to clean up. I mentioned it was December 1st and what were we going to start on December 1st? "The chocolate calendar!" exclaimed Alex. I said after the room was cleaned up. Quickest clean up ever. They each opened door number one and had their chocolate. At this point it's only 6pm! Too early for bath. I sent them back to the playroom. Fast forward to a half hour later. This time clean up is much more of a struggle. I finally said, "I better call Santa and tell him not to bring any new toys since you don't even want to clean up the ones you already have." I actually went and picked up the phone. Alex looked quite worried. "NO! I promise I'll take better care of my toys!!" We'll see how that promise holds tomorrow...

Then we had bath time. My arms are still wet. So's my foot....

We finally got settled, they agreed (I know!) on How the Grinch Stole Christmas as their story. We had a nice final few moments of the day with a calm, cuddly storytime. Twinkle, twinkle little star was sung. Kids were kissed and tucked into bed and the house is peaceful. They're so lucky they're cute.

(This hasn't been proofread, by the way. I'm too tired!)

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