my kingdom for a 2-hour nap

Thus far, today has been one of those days I really wish I could teleport myself out of here.

Or at least, teleport in a good attitude because mine is missing.

Along with my car keys.

Charlie left early this morning before anyone was awake, so I've been on my own with the kids since the very beginning. Since we didn't arrive home from my business trip until late last night, all of the suitcases were still piled up at the foot of our bed, which I tripped over this morning, when I was awoken from a sound sleep by Carolyn who was trying to open the front door and on the way to stop her, spotted Elizabeth who was overflowing our bathroom sink.

A short while later, when I went to make breakfast, I discovered that we were out of juice.

Out of eggs.

Out of milk, except Charlie's bluish skim.

Every time I turned around - to make breakfast, change out of my pajamas, or unpack a suitcase - there was a fight accompanied by screaming and crying. All the while, Henry was repeatedly climbing on top of things, falling down and smacking his head. Shame on me for trying to do anything other than stand directly over our children, supervising.

I mean that seriously.

I know that it would be better if I just left the house and went some place else, but it's tough to leave without car keys that are probably in one of the suitcases that I have yet to unpack. And I just don't have it in me to go for a walk with temperatures in the 90's and small children that as soon as we are out of sight from the house, will hang off my leg begging that I carry them.

Needing a quick change of scenery, I moved everyone outside and as I'm trying to clean mold off of a highchair that was left outside, William immediately douses Henry with the hose. The baby erupts in to cries and in a fit of rage, that makes no good sense because why wouldn't I expect that the kids who are playing with WATER wouldn't get wet, I dump a bucket of water on William, who erupts in to cries. Carolyn soils two pairs of underwear. Elizabeth is taking handfuls of mud from the planter and putting it all over our table and chairs and then wiping her hands on her shirt and running in the house to put on new clothes. The laundry is piling up before my very eyes, in addition to the laundry that I still have to do from three days away.

After less than a half hour outside, everyone wants back in.

Because I don't move fast enough, the mud and water from outside is tracked inside. The baby is crying and needs to be changed out of his wet clothes. I hear the gardener in the back and notice that he is picking up all of the errant toys that are scattered across the lawn before he mows. Oh darn. That's not part of his job. Nor is it part of his job to pick up the Molly bombs that were dropped during our trip away. I get the baby changed and start to make lunch, only to see that the baby is now crawling around and eating things off the floor. I have NO idea what it is he is eating or how long it's been there.

I go to the outside refrigerator to get some cheese for the sandwiches I'm making and I spot bottles of ice cold Sierra Nevada beer.

Would I?

Could I?

Drink a beer at 11:30 in the morning? I'm certain that it would make me feel better. At least for five minutes until the buzz wore off and I couldn't fight closing my eyes.

Lunch. Story time. Another pair of soiled underwear. More fighting. More outfit changes. Why must everyone drive me so crazy, I ask them. Why must they set out to destroy everything in our house? Get out! Get out!

Or better, yet. Go take a nap.

On days like today, I love my life and equally hate it. I can't really imagine wanting to be any place other than here with my children, and yet, this is the absolute last place I want to be.


As I was writing this post, I took a quick break to see what Chris was up to. Her post today actually made me cry, which is something that very rarely (as in, never) happens to me, when I'm reading blogs. I am very well aware that "these days" with my little children won't last forever. I know that the chaos won't always be like this. I know that one day, probably sooner than I would like, I will be facing challenges with our children that will make me look back on these days and scoff.

But I suspect, I'll look back and be mournful that I spent so much time while my children were young, just wishing that they'd all go to sleep. And I'm sure I'll never be able to remember why it was that I wanted to pound an entire six-pack before noon.