I crawled into my bed fully aware that morning was bearing down on me like a freight train and I would be reversing the bedtime process with three and adding a 14-month-old to the mix. We planned on going to church. With one hour less sleep and a very challenging bedtime. This had all the makings of a rich adventure.
Keep in mind, Rob is on crutches. Not that he doesn't have a voice which he can gruff up to get attention, but he possesses no chasing skills, at all.
Breakfast went well. In bits and pieces. The youngest woke up shortly after the baby arrived. She got the most sleep once she stopped wailing after the forcible removal from her sister shared nest. While baby toddled, little girl ran in to go potty. Oops. When Grandma was called for wiping we discovered a little more than what we had counted on. Those undies weren't going to church. And that behind needed a little more than toilet paper. Into the shower she went. Baby clung to me, smearing her banana yogurt, snot face against my shoulder. (She has an ear infection, and a cold.) I forgot to remove the yogurt container from the table and pop it back into the fridge. When we returned downstairs to finish breakfast a four-legged friend had already taken care of the pesky yogurt issue. Fortunately, baby was real content with anything and everything she found on the floor. I picked up bits of plastic so they didn't become consumables while the four-year-old and I continued to discuss the total okayness fashion premise wherein no panties were needed if a lady wore tights.
Did I mention that the older sibling who packed for her forgot her underwear?
The two others joined us downstairs. I portioned out breakfast, removed items from baby's hands and mouth, shoved approved edibles in their place and ordered different children into different bathrooms to clean up, brush teeth and get dressed.
The youngest looked at me. I glanced back, wondering silently what the look meant. "What's wrong?"
"I don't want to say."
Her brother said. "She lost my toothbrush."
She had been alone in the bathroom two minutes, presumably going potty and brushing her own teeth. "What do you mean she lost it?"
"She put it down the hole in the sink."
The oldest perked up and offered to grab it with tongs. I let her try. No luck. Brother got to swish toothpaste while I changed baby's poopy diaper number uno. Then I noticed faint black lines upon his face. "Did you draw on your face last night? After you went to bed?"
No, of course not, it was his older sister. Well, that explains the screaming and giggling. He scrubbed off the evidence and I sighed for the twelfth time.
Shockingly, we made it to Sunday School only 1/2 late.
More? Oh there's more. Stay tuned.