What a sweet guy.  (He also should have tacked on “oh and by the way, Adelaide’s stinky.”)

Welcome to the morning!!

I’m posting three photos because I liked them all for various reasons and couldn’t pick just one.

(And if my water were to break tonight, I’d be in a wee bit o’ trouble. Because today I plan to spend on the couch, reading and folding the regular laundry that miraculously got washed yesterday.)

In a not-so-comical turn of events (as if we didn’t have enough going on), a man in a white truck pulled into our driveway and proceeded to turn off our electricity this morning.

!!!

At the time I had tried several times to pay the bill online and the company’s website had been down. No, paying over the phone never crossed my mind. (My brain? Have you seen it?) Then our transmission died and I forgot all about teeny things like electric bills.

So yeah, we’re currently waiting for them to come TURN IT BACK ON ALREADY. I had to boil water in a pot on the stove (thank heaven for gas and matches) to have a cup of tea since our normal kettle is electric.

And the food in the fridge? Just crossing my fingers it stays cold. Also? DON’T OPEN THE FREEZER.

***Edited to add: we’re back with modern times now. Yay.

Just as we were packing up to leave, Adelaide came in with a gushing cut on the palm of her hand. “I fall down!” Thankfully it wasn’t deep or requiring of any stitches. (We’ve had our fill of those for the summer.)

As soon as I had finished putting a Band-aid on it and winding tape around her whole hand (do you know how hard it is to keep a bandage on that spot otherwise?!), Madeline came in screaming, holding her hand. “I TRIED TO CATCH A BUMBLEBEE!!!” And clearly got stung in the process, poor kid.

I thought she knew bees don’t exactly make great pets. Well, regardless, she learned this lesson yesterday.

***

Also, our house has been much cooler. Whatever the a/c serviceman was able to clean with our garden hose on Tuesday did make a difference. It made me so happy I even put the laundry away.

Any guesses on the perpetrator?

(Hint: it was not me.)

I just didn’t know if I had it in me to rummage around in the attic, half bent-over, searching for that elusive Christmas box and then dragging it all down and putting it out.

And the dusting, the boxes and trash, the what-the-heck-do-I-do-with-my-regular-nick-knacks quandary, and the DO NOT TOUCH, YES, PRETTY, DO NOT TOUCH!!!

(All that and the side of my personality that says if I’m going to do it, the whole entire house needs bedecking, floor to ceiling. I must enjoy overwhelming myself.)

You can imagine my relief when it finally occurred to me that I didn’t have to have a garland or snowman on every available surface. I don’t even have to use everything I own!

So that was my philosophy for Christmas decorating this year: pick and choose. (You’ll see the results on the 15th.)

But yesterday morning, I was laying in my bed completely asleep, and IN my sleep, I heard the clanking of my porcelain nativity characters somewhere in my dreams. I woke up and shot out of bed.

I walked into the living room to find Madeline standing on a kitchen stool she’d pushed up next to the entertainment center, the angel and a wise man nestled in the crook of her arm, and the rest of the figurines clumped precariously near the edge.

I can’t blame her for being drawn to them. I hadn’t put them out until after she was asleep so they were completely new and wonderful to her. And they’re very beautiful to look at.

I explained that yes, they were fun to look at but they were also very fragile and we don’t touch them. Which, might I just say, is extremely hard for Madeline. Way more so for her than for Drew or Adelaide.

So I was telling Andy about it last night, and his immediate response was “she’s just like me!” He went on to tell me how over-the-top curious he was as a kid and how when his parents left the house, it was a mad dash to rummage through all their stuff.

(And yes, his mom reads my blog – hi, Mom! But Andy said he didn’t care if I posted this story because he’s “27! They can’t be mad about it now!!” So there you have it.)

Anyway, the main thing we talked about was that Andy ALWAYS knew what his Christmas presents were. He’d hunt around in the attic, his parents’ closets, the cellar, everywhere. Even ceiling tiles, I kid you not.

From his own mouth, “I was a SNEAK.”

There was a funny story from one year – his parents knew he’d been sneaking around and didn’t put his main gift under the tree. After the rest of the gifts had been opened, Andy kept asking them, “are you sure there’s not one more present?!” How’s that for giving oneself away.

So basically, yes, she IS her father’s daughter.

Today was one of the craziest mornings I’ve ever had, which is really saying something considering I have a separate category for ‘Morning Mishaps.’

I mentioned before that Andy is running a marathon in New York, and it happened to be this weekend. He had signed up (and paid) before we moved and we were able to find a really cheap flight. So, in the end, he was able to keep his commitment with a friend.

However, since our city is about two hours from any major airport (although several to choose from), he was scheduled to take a shuttle today in the wee hours of the morning so that I didn’t have to drive him to the airport.

And for some unknown reason, he set the alarm for 4:10. He was supposed to board the shuttle at 4:30. It takes around 10-15 minutes to get there.

We woke up at 4:40.

(!@#*$%^&!)

In a groggy panic, we surveyed our options – none of which were even remotely appealing. We do have two cars; Andy’s service engine light is on, however, and he wasn’t comfortable driving it that far. I couldn’t even think straight enough to come up with a plan; I just knew I did NOT want to load the kids and drive Andy two hours away to the airport.

Especially at 4:40 in the morning.

A fleeting thought suddenly crossed my mind – he’d been dropped off from that same shuttle service on our side of town before after returning from an out-of-town trip… maybe they’d be willing to stop and pick him up?

I frantically grabbed the phone book, looked up their number (cursing my tired brain that would not churn out my ABC’s) and finally got a hold of the operator. He was pretty sure that the driver had already passed us on the highway.

I asked him if he could please check, just to be sure. Turns out the driver WAS willing to pull off and pick up Andy, and hadn’t passed us quite yet. I practically threw Andy his cell phone on his way out the door and then waited on pins and needles by my own phone to hear if he had made it.

I talked to him right as he was pulling into the gas station; no shuttle in sight. We figured out he was one exit down from where the driver was waiting, at another BP. He hopped on the interstate, sped over to the right place, and got on the shuttle.

[Cue the Hallelujah Chorus in all of its splendor.]

We could not have orchestrated it any better. It was totally and completely a God-thing. I laid in my bed afterward, my mind still racing and not wanting to think about what would have been necessary if Andy hadn’t made that shuttle; my eyes tearing up at the Lord’s mercy and silently repeating “thank you, Jesus,” over and over.

Even when I woke up a few hours later, my head was still spinning from that close of a call.

But the morning, it had only just begun.

First, Adelaide dumped her million pumpkin bread crumbs all down herself, her chair, and the floor – I saw her lift up her plate and felt myself switch into slow-motion as I moved across the room to try and stop her. It was too late.

Moist bread chunks and crumbs are not exactly easy to sweep up, turns out. I took the whole chair, booster seat and all, out to the back deck and turned it upside down.

(I let her out first, in case you are wondering.)

Then, after breakfast, Madeline came up and handed me several locks of hair – her own – asking me if I could put them back. I knew there would be a day where she tried to cut her own hair; I just didn’t expect it to be so soon.

I explained that it doesn’t work that way, that I can’t just fix her hair and put it back the way it was. She cried. Thankfully, they were mostly small cuts, and none of them right next to her head. She’s got a head full of layers, so it blends in fairly well.

Several times throughout the morning she said “I’m so sorry for my hair, Mama,” and would cry a little. It was such a delicate balance in responding because I wanted her to know that it’s just hair, after all; it will grow back. But I also don’t want her thinking she can just go chop off her hair whenever she happens to spot a pair of scissors.

Meanwhile, we’d tentatively planned to go to the children’s museum and all morning I had been trying to move in the direction of getting everyone out the door. So far I had only managed to change Adelaide out of her pajamas and into a clean diaper before Madeline’s hair cutting spree.

Next thing I know, I’m looking down at Adelaide, still wearing only a diaper, sitting in a dirt pile in the backyard with a shovel in her hand. And she was filthy.

She needed a bath, no way around it.

As I was getting myself dressed after that, I came out to the living room where Madeline had spilled the sugar bowl all over the place. It was a grainy, sticky, dusty mess. And then my head, it suddenly exploded into tiny little pieces.

Kind of like the sugar.

After THAT mess was taken care of, what do I do but go outside, and Adelaide is BACK in the dirt! This time only her hands needed washing, and boy, it’s a darn good thing.

[Also, all of this mayhem caused me to completely space that it was trash day, and I totally forgot to get our can out to the street. It may not seem like that big of a deal, but forgetting is one of my pet peeves. Now we have to wait another whole week and it was already almost full.]

Sarah and I did spend a couple of hours this afternoon at the children’s museum and although really fun, it totally wiped me out. (I got up at 4:40am, remember?) I had the kids nap for an hour when we got home, gave them an interesting collection of foods and called it dinner, and then attempted to get them all down for bed before I suffered a nervous breakdown.

Once in bed, Drew wanted a children’s Tylenol because he said his head hurt. Whatever, fine. A few minutes later, I hear him wailing because he squished it and the tablet broke all over his sheets.

I’m so glad I have a trusty vacuum cleaner and I’m so glad that I can go to bed now.

This morning was one of those times where my attitude about getting out of bed was along the lines of “I don’t care if they burn the house down, I simply cannot get up yet.”

The kids usually content themselves by eating breakfast bars, playing around the house, climbing on me, watching a movie, or whathaveyou. But this morning? Somehow Drew got the plastic toddler-proofing cover off of Adelaide’s doorknob and Madeline decided they’d play a few games.

Adelaide wasn’t so thrilled. And you may want to shield your eyes:

The jumbled up mess of cards she was apparently sitting on:

The full disaster:

And a box of Andy’s business cards, thrown in for good measure:

We won’t discuss how long this took me to sort out and put to rights (and you can see how tiny those Risk men are, in that box right there).

Okay. Well at least they DIDN’T burn the house down.

She didn’t stay with me long. She must’ve turned a movie on for herself or something. I dunno, I wasn’t there. I was in bed. Asleep.

Drew eventually woke up so I let all the kids just play while I tried to wake myself up, but, um, accidentally fell back asleep.

(What can I say? My bed is warm and snuggly.)

(And it was EARLY.)

When I walked into the living room later, I found an opened pouch of hot chocolate powder strewn about the carpet and Adelaide’s face, several opened tea bags, and last night’s popcorn spilled everywhere.

And also the bin that holds Madeline’s hair stuff overturned in the bathroom. Tiny rubber bands, barrettes, clips all over the floor.

Good morning! It’s gonna be a great day!

(If you’re wondering, Andy wasn’t home. He had met some buddies at Starbucks. I don’t know what possessed him to leave the house at such an hour.)

Plus, I had lost my cell phone two nights ago and still have yet to find it. So I spent some of the morning pulling out furniture and dumping out toy boxes and checking inside shoes. No phone. (I do have insurance but who wants to go haggle with the phone company with three kids in tow?)

Oh, and there’s a new leak under our kitchen sink.

Lovely.

Yelling through the window for Madeline to come out and join him:

(A suggestion that was met with a resounding “No!” from the Department of Parental Services.)

Now, I hate to throw (more) rain on his parade, but since pneumonia isn’t on the agenda for the next several weeks, we did eventually make him come inside to get dry and, well, dressed.

We started by piling the kids up on our bed and giving them their Easter baskets. Of course that was exciting; they’re always thrilled with cheap toys and candy. (And I really don’t want to know the combined sugar intake for today. Ahem.)

Drew immediately ran outside and tested out the new sidewalk chalk, jammies and all. And then after I got the two of them ready, Andy whisked ‘em off to Sunday School. Ahh, peaceful bliss. And coffee.

Instead of chasing Adelaide around while I tried to get my own self ready, I plopped her in the tub with a few inches of water and the bath toys. She was happy to splash around and I was happy to have her so contained.

Except, after a few minutes, I peeked around at her and the bath water was brown.

Never a good sign.

She had had herself a little bath Poop Fest ’08. I’ll spare you the remaining details. Suffice it to say, I was very late to church. And surprised to find that Andy and the kids weren’t sitting in our usual pew.

The organist resigned a few weeks ago and so Andy had been asked to lead the hymns, a cappella (and standing up front). Which meant that he and the kids were sitting on the very front row. How embarrassing.

After church we had our big Easter dinner over at his parents’ house. Here’s a little smattering of the pictures from today:

We brought the kids home for afternoon naps (I personally didn’t get one, unfortunately). Afterwards we re-dressed everyone in church clothes and went back a little early since Andy still had to lead the music.

We had been sitting (yep, again in the front row) for several minutes, waiting for the service to start, and Madeline whispered she had to go potty.

So I took her back to the bathroom and the next thing I know, Drew shows up. (How did you get here?!) Apparently he also had to go potty. And helped himself to leaving the sanctuary, all by himself.

(Andy later told me the service had just begun; he was facing the congregation leading the music when all this happened. And, can you just imagine the look on Andy’s face when Drew just upped and strolled out? Andy said he was so shocked he didn’t know what to do – keep singing or chase after Drew. But by then Drew had already walked out the back door and all Andy could do at that point was keep the singing going.)

So after our eternal potty stop, I led the kids back into church – my hands clamped down on theirs. Unfortunately, Drew walked right into one of the jutting-out wall buttresses and smacked his forehead. (This was on our way back up to the front row. Just to clarify.)

I was sure he was going to start crying from the pain, but he didn’t. And poor kid, he now has a red welt on his face.

So back to our front row situation… During the hymn favorites, I was talking to Madeline and turned around to find Drew had totally vanished. I looked towards the back, and there he was – again – about to walk out the back doors! I could hardly believe my eyes! I sort of froze, grabbed Madeline, and ran after him.

I found him in the bathroom; he hadn’t finished going potty the first time around. I gave him a very pointed lecture about how he was not free to just come and go in church as he pleased, he needs to get permission from mama first. And then we returned, yet again, to our front row seats (are you picking up on a pattern here?).

I think my cheeks might still be sporting a slightly reddish hue. I felt even more conspicuous with the lack of an organ to cover any noise. It was dead silent in there. (Well, except for my loud and fidgety children, that is.)   And then Drew finished up the service by walking a finger man up and down the front banister during the benediction. I didn’t notice until he’d already passed back and forth a few times.

Of course we didn’t let the kids see, but Andy and I sure had a good laugh over the whole ordeal. I’m not one to enjoy making a spectacle of ourselves, but I can’t help but laugh over it when it happens.

Oh, and Happy Easter, interpeeps.

The kids usually content themselves by eating breakfast bars, playing around the house or climbing all over me, watching a movie…whathaveyou. But this morning? Somehow Drew got the plastic toddler-proofing cover off of Adelaide’s doorknob and Madeline decided they’d play a few games.

Adelaide wasn’t so thrilled. And you may want to shield your eyes.

The jumbled up mess of cards she was apparently sitting on:

The full mess:

And a box of Andy’s business cards, thrown in for good measure.

We won’t discuss how long this took me to sort out and put to rights (and you can see how tiny the Risk men are, in that box right there).

Well… At least they didn’t burn the house down.

I’m just sayin’.

And then, just as I was vacuuming up the last Cheerio, there was a knock on the door.

Impeccable timing, as usual.

I took one look down at my wrinkled pajamas and thought of my bed-hair and smeared makeup, and ran and hid in the laundry room. It turned out to be the service men coming to program our phone. Which meant they needed access to the laundry room, where apparently our phone lines are kept. (You can run but you cannot hide. For long, anyway.)

So Andy (thank you, Lord, that Andy was home) had the guys go in the kitchen while I ran upstairs. And, in full accordance with the state of our house, the kitchen looked like it had been hit by a bomb.

And Drew was running around wearing only his underwear, the girls were still in their jammies, and Adelaide was screaming her head off, still mad about me repeatedly moving her out of the way of the vacuum cleaner.

(And, on a side note, every time anyone comes over in the morning for something house-related, I look like a train wreck. I must have some sort of deep abiding vanity that needs huge doses of humility from such continual and mortifying occasions.)

I heard one of the guys tell Andy that he’d e-mailed me about coming over and asked if I got it. Why, no, I did not. I was too busy vacuuming up an entire box of spilled Cheerios to check my e-mail.

Back upstairs, I tried to grab a quick shower so eventually I could go down and feed my cranky kids their breakfast. It was only after I was done I realized we were out of towels in the upstairs bathroom. Yeah, figures. I quickly dried off with two hand towels so I could calm Adelaide, who had firmly planted herself outside the bathroom door and continued to scream.

Aren’t you glad you stopped by? I’m so glad we could offer you such a wonderful picture of the tranquility that is our homelife.

But, as Andy said, it could have been worse. He could have already left for work, I would have had to greet the service guys face-to-face in my pajamas and still been dealing with a Cheerios-clogged vacuum. I said, “well, I wouldn’t have answered the door.”

“Yeah, but Drew might have thrown it wide in welcome.” True. That would have been worse.

Or all this could have happened before I’d had my coffee. That really might have done me in.

Oh, the mess.

The toothpaste threw a wrench into what would otherwise have been a quick wipe and vacuum job. (Although, I must say granola doesn’t vacuum very nicely – it pops and pings about the room.) And as soon as I had finished vacuuming the kitchen, I found the kids had spilled an entire box of Cheerios all over the floor in front of the TV.

I think in all, I must have vacuumed for an hour straight. And all before my coffee. I finally came back into the kitchen to brew myself some of that delicious awakening liquid, and did this:

I could hardly believe mine eyes.

At least now when I vacuum, my house smells like a coffee shop. That’s kinda nice.

Yeah. I nearly threw up.

Anyway, Adelaide is taking it upon herself to keep up Madeline’s floor-scrounging legacy. (No dead flies or ladybugs yet though, thankfully.)

When the kids went to bed the other night I swept up all the rice puffs that Adelaide had dropped from her johnny-jump-up tray. Naturally other kitchen crumbs and dirt got swept up as well, and I left a small pile over by the wall. I put the broom away and was planning to just vacuum up the mess and be done with it.

But then I went to bed and forgot all about the dustpile and my vacuuming plans.

Sometime the next morning, wouldn’t you know, I rounded the corner into the kitchen and there was Adelaide, sitting in the middle of the pile, happily munching away on dusty rice krispies.

Ew. But at least it wasn’t a dead fly.