Just Another Manic Monday

This is the text I sent to Matt yesterday around 5:30:

I am in hell. No nap, Hays peed on the tree, Will painted himself with poop, and they've been whining and fighting all afternoon. Come home!!!!

The day got off to a promising start. Hays told me he needed to "teetee potty" and, sure enough, he did. As a reward for being such a big boy, I let him wear big boy underwear instead of a diaper. I was monitoring him closely and taking him to the bathroom every 30 minutes to avoid any accidents. Just as I was marveling at how well he was doing, and patting myself on the back for having such success with potty training, I hear "uh-oh." I look over to find Hays standing next to the Christmas tree, watering it in a most unconventional fashion. Well, to be fair, he was really watering the floor, the giant tree cage, and the tree skirt, though I think he managed to sprinkle a branch or two. So much for the potty training success.

As you can imagine, I was relieved to put them down for a nap an hour or so later. I breathed a sigh of relief as I closed their door and reveled in the anticipation of an hour or two of peace. Yeah right. Apparently they had already reached a decision that they were not napping, and no amount of stern admonishments or spankings would convince them to do otherwise. So I decided that I'd show those two punks who was boss. I might not be able to force them to sleep, but I can by god keep 'em in their room. Well, Will decided he'd show me what he thought of that plan by using poop as a means for creative expression. It was no where near as bad as the epic poop incident that happened several months ago. (If you feel the need to revisit that particular adventure, here's the link http://theamazingtwinadventure.blogspot.com/2010/02/theres-story-thats-been-told-for-years.html) but it wasn't good either. He was completely covered, so it was obviously bath time for the poop monster.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze of screaming, fighting, running, biting and a massive mountain of laundry to fold and put away. At one point my mom stopped by to give the kids a book she'd bought for them, and all I could do was sit and fold clothes while she dealt with the hellions for a bit. She told my sister I looked like I was catatonic. I wasn't really, I was just trying to have an out of body experience in the hopes that I could block out all the crazy surrounding me, and let my mind sunbathe on a beautiful beach somewhere. Unfortunately, it didn't work. And my mom could only take 30 minutes or so of being in the frenzied monkey cage that I call home, so she abandoned me. That's when the SOS text was sent to Matt.

He eventually came home (after forwarding my desperate pleas to his boss so they could laugh at my pain. Jerks.) I drank a glass (or two) of wine, got the kids to bed, and fell on the couch in an exhausted stupor. One more day down. Only 16 years to go......