Happy Mother's Day

N missed the bus earlier this week. I'd like to tell you it's because our alarm didn't go off, or because the bus came early. In reality, it was because I had allowed her to stay up late the night before and because I, her uber organized mother, couldn't find socks for her that matched.

I figured I could stop at the grocery store after dropping her off at school, which meant fighting with B and O to get dressed before we could leave (if I wasn't stopping anywhere, I would just throw their pajama clad bodies in the car). Some days this is only a mildly difficult task. Some days it's a horrendously difficult task. Never is it an easy task. Of course, this day, when N had 15 minutes to get to school, they were making it as difficult as they could.

B asked why he had to put on underwear instead of a diaper. We have been through this before. I repeated my spiel about almost four-year-old boys using the potty and not diapers. He appeared to think about this and then said,

"Mom, I will use the potty. Just not on Wednesdays."

What do you know? It just happened to be Wednesday.

"OK, maybe tomorrow", I told him.

"And mom? I don't use the potty in April either."

Ha! Got ya there, son. It's May! I told him as much.

Like he cared.

Eventually, in spite of the thrashing and flailing, screaming and crying, I managed to get them dressed and we took N to school. She walked to the door, and then turned to wave to us as her brothers called "Bye N!", over and over again, with increasing volume, until I could see the expressions of relief on the teachers' faces as we drove away.

B was playing with a puzzle piece in the back of the car as we drive to the grocery store.

"Mom, I see the awful tower on here".

I had to ask for clarification on that one.

"You know it, mom. The big tower. I've seen it on TV. The Awful Tower. It's right on this puzzle piece."

"Do you mean the Eiffel Tower?" I asked

"Oh yeah, maybe that's it".

I looked at the puzzle piece, which made up part of a map of the United States.

B was holding Idaho.

So just in case it's ever a Jeopardy question, now you know:

The Awful Tower is in Idaho.

We were tricked into using the self check-out at the grocery store. I've now realized that they fill the air with memory zapping gas that makes you forget what happened the last time you used the self check out. It never goes well, and yet  I continue to find myself there.

Then again, the regular check outs don't go so well wither.


I have, of course, taken the cart with the broken seat belt, so O decides to climb out as I am trying to scan my items. B is leaning on the scale, causing everything to stop as the computerized voice repeatedly tell me there is an unaccounted for item on the scale. I briefly consider leaving everything there and trying again tomorrow.

A cashier comes over to help. B pushes the cart into her. Repeatedly. She has clearly dealt with children like him before. He thinks this is a game. Nice cashier lady tells me she will scan my items, if I want to grab O, who is about to tumble head first out of the cart.

B pushes the cart into her again. I make a mental note to locate some "obedient child" gas before our next shopping trip. The cashier tells me I have my hands full. Ya think?
I tell her at least one is at school.

She shakes her head and says, "You just didn't know when to stop, did you?"
I laugh, and say something about God tricking us by sending us the mellow obedient child first.
She points to B and says, "But you still had one after him".

I tell her he hadn't reached his full terrorist potential yet when we had O.

And then, because I am feeling slightly guilty for joining the cashier in disparaging my children, I add,

"But I wouldn't change a thing."

Oh sure, in reality,  there might be a few things I'd change. I'd like more money. Or a part time Nanny. I'd like for Jimmy not to have to work so hard. I'd like for my three-year-old to get the.hell.out.of.diapers.already.

I'd like the grocery store to have a Margarita machine right next to the fountain soda machine.

But as for having these three sometimes willful, often exhausting, always crazy kids to contend with?

No. I wouldn't change a thing.

And as I said those words, I realized they may be the truest words I have ever spoken.

Happy Mother's Day.

And if you make a difference in the life a child, Happy Mother's Day to you, too.

We couldn't do it without you.