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Friday, August 22, 2014

Kahlua is a breakfast drink, right?


Mornings around here are... what do the British say? A wee bit of Pandelerium, something I'm pretty sure Jeff Foxworthy coined. I may have mentioned it before. Envision a three ring circus featuring Care Bear in one ring, Liam in the other, and Damon in the third while I, whipless, try to maintain order and magically keep all school supplies and requirements straight for each child. Some moms probably can do this effortlessly as they have organized selves and organized children, or at least one or the other.

We've got nothin'.

Care Bear has a tendency to, shall we say, "spread" in that her things literally will be scattered between Hither and Yon. Her binder will be on the kitchen table, her laptop and earbuds will be on the big chair, the bag she's supposed to be presenting from will be not full of the required items and will be found hanging on the back of the kitchen chair. Her lunch will be spread across the kitchen counter. Her water bottle might be in the freezer, might be in the fridge, might be on the counter, might still be in her backpack from yesterday. Her backpack will actually be hanging on the doorknob where it belongs, or closeby on the floor. Someone really should yell, "ROUNDUP" and see how long it takes her to get everything she needs. That would be an interesting experiment, actually...

"I want to kiss you on your butt." I'll come back to that.

And then there's Liam. Third grade parents had homework due today. "In a million words or less, tell me about your third grader." If I posted what I wrote, I'd certainly have to change names to protect the guilty, but suffice it to say that there were vivid descriptions of a certain third grader brandishing a peanut buttery knife through the kitchen when he was supposed to be making his lunch. Kind of like what is happening right now. He is lamenting his torn hot dog bun in a voice that sounds exactly like Woody from Toy Story when he thinks all hope is gone. And now half of the hot dog bun is on the floor. And he hasn't brushed his teeth yet.

Guess what time his alarm is set for? Seven. Guess what time he was up today? 6:35. Before his sister has left for the junior high bus. There is no way I am going to be able to get these guys all ready and out the door with my sanity intact if they all get up together. I am a very firm believer in divide and conquer.

Oh yes, butt kissing. Not that kind. The earlier quote was from the Damonater, to Dada, who was trying to get out the door to work unmolested. Epic fail. Carrie was already gone, but Liam had a hold of his retractable ID (his "zippy", as it's known around here) and Damon was clinging to the other side of him. Dada is standing in one spot, boys on the front and back of him, holding a smoothie in one hand up high, his work backpack dangling off one shoulder. "I've got your zippy, HA ha!" "I want to kiss you in the butt!" "Bye Dada!" "Bye Dada!" "Bye Dada!" "Bye Dada!" "I've got your zippy!" "I want to kiss you!"

He escaped.

I'm still here.

Liam's on take two of his sandwich. He just now had me open the jelly.

I've had 1/3 of my cup of coffee, that I made at about 6:30. It's now 7:59. Liam's getting excess peanut butter off of the knife. Fortunately, he's already dressed. So is Damon, as we've all been walking to the elementary school bus stop together.

Which means I should go. First, I'll splash some lots of Kahlua into my coffee cup. There's room for it now.

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