The part where I bang my head against the wall

There are lots of jokes out there about the world having two kinds of people- the morning people and everyone else. 

We are not a family of early birds around here. Let me just tell you that in case it has somehow escaped your notice from any other blog post about mornings or bus schedules or breakfast or in case this is your first time on the blog. Hello! Welcome to our niche of crazy!

For example, Carrie sets two alarms, one for 6:15 and one for 6:30 and then on a good day she gets out of bed at 6:45 to catch her 7:10 school bus. 

Got all that? 

She can pull this off because she wears the same hoodie and jeans/shorts pretty much daily, changing out her T shirt, socks, and skivvies. She owns several combs- uses none of them- maybe brushes her teeth after breakfast if she has time, does no makeup, very little jewelry. This is my no-fuss girl, and I thank God for that. 

Now, we have multiple bathrooms, so it shouldn't be an issue of not being able to get into one in the morning. However, this morning she was in the tiny loo downstairs because it's closest to the garage door we leave from to get to the bus. She'd meant to just dash in and out, so she didn't shut the door the whole way.

Damon comes staggering downstairs, leaps out at Dada and I with a cheerful, "BOO!" and proceeds to head to the the same tiny loo where he usually does his morning routine. He starts to push open the door (remember that THIS kid has been up all of 3 minutes) and she bashes it shut the whole way, hitting him in the head.

After kisses and gentle admonitions to always, always knock just in case, I manage to get Carrie out the door so he can get in there. (He's fine, she only clipped him.)

After her bus comes and goes and I'm back inside, I realize that I still haven't even seen Liam, whose alarm went off almost 15 minutes ago. Damon is wandering around, accumulating his breakfast, and Dada heads up to check on Liam's progress. 

I throw our sheets into the washer and come back down to Honey Nut Cheerios ("Bee O's" in our house, because of the honeybee on the box of the genuine ones) all over the floor by Liam's seat. Apparently gross motor skills are not happening on this Tuesday morning. 

I swear he sleepwalks through breakfast today, putzing and interfering with the thank you card full and fully-dressed Damon is working on for his teacher, being scolded redirected several times. 

The phone rings. 

Let me just stop right there, because if you're new around here you probably don't know that I despise the telephone. My sweet, sweet innocent husband gently reminds me that when the phone rings it's because someone wants to talk to me, and that I should not snarl as I pick it up.

I let the machine get it and hear, "hey Mom, it's me, and I..."

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

"Hello?"

"Hey Mom, it's me. In my backpack [which she hasn't taken for the last two weeks because she has only been carrying her binder] is a weather and science hard back book that I need for seventh period. Could you please bring it to school?"

*Here's where you insert every mental argument and counter argument about teaching responsibility (not taking it- it was her book, her responsibility), teachable moments (showing grace by taking it in; she's just a kid, and it IS the third-to-last day of school), waffle between those and other scenarios instantaneously in your head. I did.*

"Are you supposed to turn them in today?"

"Haha, well, actually, that was yesterday, but I forgot, and then I forgot again today..."

Nail in your coffin, my girl, nail in your coffin...

"I'll think about it. Have a good day. I love you! Bye!"

"Okay, bye." [Because Heaven help her if she uses any type of affection over the phone in the Office, bless her heart.]

Eventually, the spilled Bee O's get swept up, (thank you, Dada, who has already left for work by this point), with Liam topping off the dustpan before emptying it for our birds and squirrels out front. I physically take his pajamas from him so that he has no choice but to get dressed in the school clothes I had to pick out for him last night because he was busy with karate and last minute Boy Scout requirements that are due Thursday. He's dressed and sent to brush his teeth. He takes his backpack with him.

What the ?

Damon is done with his card at this point and is chattering about glow in the dark bracelets that he's holding and something about the basement and something about school and "because Liam did."

What's that?

Liam has escaped into the bathroom with his backpack, at this point articulating the argument by using our own words of wisdom back at us thus, "I'm supposed to be clear and copious!"

When the door opens, I am right there like a vulture, going through the backpack.

"WHY is there a cape in here!?"

"I only wanted it for recess!"

Yeah, that banging you hear? It's just me beating my head against the bathroom wall. Carry on, citizens.

Where's MC Hammer when you need him? (File under "Don't Look Ethel". Again.)

Last night was bath night. Carrie poured one for Damon after she finished hers, and he promptly cried that it was already cold (and deep, though for a blazing blue wonder he didn't comment on that aspect of it, which he almost always does). 

Should the period go inside the parentheses or outside? Hm.

We get him clean lickety-split so he can get out of there, wrap him in his hooded monkey towel, and coach him that once he's dry and jammies are on to please throw his dirty laundry into the hamper. I leave the bathroom.

A number of minutes later, a still naked and caped almost six year old comes prancing along the hall to inform me that he "used this towel to clean up the tub. Is that okay?" I look into that sweet, hopeful face and inform him that the towel is for his clean body and probably not best for the tub, but thanks for being thoughtful and wanting to help. He skips back down the hall to the bathroom, towel fluttering from his head.

A handful of minutes after that, a very naked almost six year old gallops down the hall to hand me a bottle of blue food coloring that I actually had seen in the bathroom but hadn't really registered. 98% of his body is still clean, except for the brilliant indigo of his mouth and chin. Yes, I saw you all insert your head into your hands. That's what I did, too. 

"Here you go, Mama!"

And back down the hall goes his naked bum, accompanied by the not muted sounds of hawkering and rapid-fire spitting once he gets into the bathroom. 

I flick Carrie's ear from behind as I return to the kitchen table and she jumps a mile with a "what was that for!?" I ask her why the food coloring was in the bathroom. "IIIIIIIIIIII don't know!" 

"Carrie. Your brothers did not put it in there. Pap did not put it in there. Dada and I did not put it in there. Triskal did not put it in there. That leaves you."

"Oh yeeeeeeeaaaaaah, I was making blue milk."

(Thought but unasked: "In the BATHROOM!?") 

She goes to survey the scene and reports back that "he's spitting all over the towel, just so you know."

Sure enough, not just the hand towel that belongs on the sink is blue. There's also blue on the fresh, clean bath towel I had just washed and rehung that afternoon as well as on the bathmat that had also just been washed and returned.

Good thing I don't mind doing laundry.

"Mama, I can't get it ooooooooff..."

Why can't there be theme songs attached to objects to warn away those with less than honorable intentions? Of course, my house would be a constant cacophony of "Can't Touch This... duh duh duh duh, duh duh, duh duh, Can't Touch This!" 

I am happy to report that with a little more scrubbing and a lot more brushing, Damon Sebastian is now boy-colored again.

What difference could two days make?

I did not forget completely about my mid-month photos of the boys. These were taken November 19 on the way to the bus. Yes, Liam is indeed wearing a cape and Damon is in his Superman Halloween costume. No, I haven't lost my mind completely. It was Superhero day during Spirit week, so we went for it and seized the day.

Can I just mention for all of posterity that sunshine makes me giddy? I remember having to sing John Denver's "Sunshine On My Shoulders" in 7th grade choir, and I thought our teacher was an idiot. Who thinks having lyrics like "sunshine almost always makes me high" and junior high school students within the same acreage sounds like a good idea? Sheesh.

Anyway, now that I'm a grown up (yegods!), I get it. Sunshine really does make everything else more bearable. Even winter. Even in Ohio.

And then, helloooooooooo snow on November 21!

It really only dusted so I shouldn't complain. The plows were out to take care of the 3-4 inches Aunt Becky and Uncle Kelly got in Indiana, and she reported that it hit 3 degrees that Saturday. THREE. 

That is NOT okay. 

Anyway, all of it is gone both here and there, and good riddance.