our life is one giant comedy of errors

The children went to bed almost three hours past their bed time last night.

Because .... we were planning to go to Costco.

But first, we had to go to the Post Office to mail off several packages (including three boxes of Joe-Joe's to Jenny, Maija and Jody - they're on their way!) that had been sitting around for two weeks and ABSOLUTELY had to be mailed out yesterday. And in the midst of standing in line, we realized that the children had basketball.

In five minutes.

Ten minutes across town.

So we finished up at the Post Office and bolted to basketball, arriving twenty minutes late.

On the way, there was much "discussion" about how awful it is that we can't keep anything straight. It's like we're living in a total fog. Sure, we've got things written on calendars in bright colored markers - but we need to set alarms on our phones and computers and maybe even consider paying a service that will call us with the gentle reminder, "Hi, before you leave the house today, you might want to make sure you're wearing pants."

Charlie goes in to basketball with the triplets - and because it was dumping rain and there was only twenty minutes left of class - I stayed in the car with Henry.

As I was fishing around for a book to read him, I noticed my cell phone was in my pocket.

I pull it out and see that for the past 10 minutes and 22 seconds, I've been on a call. But I haven't really been on a call. Just my phone has. And for that entire span of time that Charlie and I were having a "discussion" our "chat" was being recorded on one of my consultant's voicemails, which happened to be the last number dialed.

AWESOME.

That should be fun come Monday morning. I'll probably get a concerned call. "Jenna? Did you leave a message on Friday night? Are you upset with us? Did you rant for ten minutes about how frustrated you are that we are always late for things? I'm terribly sorry. I thought things were going well. Do you have any suggestions for our improvement?"

Yes. Yes I do. I'd appreciate it if you would call me 30 minutes before any event and REMIND me that we need to be somewhere. What? You don't think it's part of your job responsibility to tell me that our five-year-olds have BASKETBALL on Friday night?

Well, you better think again.

Once Charlie and the kids emerge from basketball, we go to Costco. As soon as we arrive, we place an order for pizza because by this point, it's too late to cook anything at home. But since it's a rainy Friday night - the wait for our pizza is an hour.

We complete our shopping in 20 minutes and then for the next 40 minutes, we roam the aisles, trying to block out Henry who has started yelling, "But MOMMMMM!" for no apparent reason at all. Someone has to go potty. I take them. Ten minutes later, they have to go again. But this time, they loudly declare that NOW they have to go poop. So we go back to the restroom. Once they finish up their business, they look in the potty and announce, "Wow. Check that out! It looks like a BIG carrot!"

These kids are incredible. I mean for such little people, it continually amazes me, the uh, size of their output. Charlie and I have actually called each other in to the bathroom to stare in wonder at how someone so SMALL can put out something so BIG. My husband has shaken his head in disbelief and said, "We're grown adults and I don't think we could accomplish that."

The hour is finally up. We fetch our pizza and opt to eat it there. But we have no drinks. Or no extra cash. So Charlie tracks down an ATM while I settle the kids in. Everyone has a plate with one slice of pizza, that I sliced in half. Two of them promptly drop their slices on the floor.

Charlie returns with bottles of water. Children take sips of water and inevitably, water is spilled all over them, the table and bench seats. I'm making sure the pizza box isn't flung to the floor, or saturated, and Charlie jumps up to grab napkins. In doing so, he flips Henry's pizza out of his hands. Which also lands on the floor.

Henry cries out, "But DADDDDDDD!"

My husband stops. Slowly turns and looks at me.

"Jen. Please. Can we just go home, go to sleep and start this day again, tomorrow?"

We both agree. We pack up all of our children - pick up pizza off the floor - dispose of trash - and walk to the exit at Costco only to see that the heavens have opened and both rain and hail are pelting sideways.

So we wait until the storm passes.

And wait.

And wait.

Once home, we get the kids in their pajamas, brush their teeth and give everyone strict instructions that tomorrow, they are to sleep in until daddy and mommy are awake, dressed and breakfast is on the table.

Of course they don't listen.

Even though we put the triplets on the potty again before we went to bed last night, before the light of day has broken the horizon, we are awoken first by one child who wet the bed and felt compelled to turn on every light within 20 feet of their room while crying, "I'm WET!! I AM WET!" No surprise, that woke up Henry who came in to our bed and kicked us silly for the next hour. The sky is still dark, when I sense a third child in the bathroom. I hear a funny noise. What is that?

Running water? Dripping water? Rushing water?

I fly out of bed and down the hall where I see the river flowing towards me.

In the bathroom our child standing with a toilet brush and jabbing at a mass of toilet paper that is now flowing up and over the rim along with a good five gallons of water that are all over the floor. Am I dreaming? Is this a bad dream?

Before I can fully differentiate real from not, my child explains, "But MOMMMM! It was like there were two huge carrots."

Then they frowned, "Maybe the potty doesn't like carrots either?"