Put a fork in me....

I am done!!! And it's not even 9:00 a.m. Let me tell you about my day. (A little background first). The President has to be at school at 7:50 a.m. They are pretty strict about it. Any later than that, you have to march your kid into the office & fill out a tardy slip. It's a pain in the butt. If you don't have to go in, you can drop your kid off in your pjs (which I do quite a bit....Fat Baby also wears his jammies for the ride--we live less than 5 minutes from school). On Tuesday & Thursday, I pick up a friend's children, take the older one to school, and the two year old comes home with us for the day. I've got the routine down like a well-oiled machine. I get up about 6:45, pack lunch, make breakfast, lay out clothes, and then wake the (very grouchy) President. (Neither of us are morning people...keep that in mind, because I have a related story coming up). My Baby's Daddy leaves for work before any of us are awake 99.99% of the time. So, we've gotten in the routine of him calling to wake me every day. Works out great...except today, he didn't look at the time until 7:24. Seven freaking twenty-four! There was no way I was going to make it on time, so I called the dad of the two kids I was supposed to be picking up in ten minutes, and asked him to save his son a tardy & drop him off and then bring the baby to me. He was happy to help a sister out. I breathed a little easier & went about my morning routine. Since we had to go into the school, I had to dress myself and Fat Baby in real clothes, as well. We were out the door at about 8:15...not too bad, I thought. We get to the car & I'm buckling children in. Fat Baby wanders back into the house while I'm buckling Beaker (the other kid) in the car. When I went back into the house to collect him, he was no where to be found. No where. So, I began looking outside. Kids his age don't generally say, "Here I am, Mom!" when you call them anyway, but he is especially stubborn. He does not respond to his name unless it suits his particular agenda. After a few minutes of searching outside, I started to really panic. I can't believe how quickly they can get away...I was in that gray area just before hysterical crying, and after severe chest pains. It was a dull ache in my soul. Desperate, I asked the President to get out of the car & help me look. I guess he has a kid's sixth sense, because he walked straight around the house (to the swingset, duh!) and yelled, "Here he is Mom!" I ran back there as fast as I could to sweep up my precious baby, and cover him with kisses. When I got almost there, he laughed and ran in the opposite direction. I spank my children only when it is utterly appropriate, and this fit the bill. A million emotions were running through my mind, but I had to let him know that he couldn't run away...it's dangerous. Then, of course, he got a million hugs and kisses. We delivered his brother to school, and all is well with the world.

Some other stuff Fat Baby has done lately: pulled up a stool & sat in the kitchen sink, gone to the pantry and dumped out a huge (warehouse club size) package of individual bags of chips, stood on the dining room table, stood on the open door to the dishwasher, planted himself firmly on the floor at various public venues including church, fast food restaurants, and the hair salon...he has stopped (for the moment) coloring on the walls, though.

He is a sweet and precious child...he's just the complete opposite of his big brother! I can, however, take him anywhere. He will ride in a stroller without incident, sit in a high chair and enjoy a meal out, and sits nicely in a shopping cart. He is smart, sweet, and so absolutely beautiful that strangers often stop me to tell me so. As a friend once said of her second boy, "His cuteness gets him out of a lot of trouble!"

Now, back to the story related to my aversion to morning. Our house is divided. MBD and Fat Baby are total morning people. Don't talk to me or The President until we've been up for about 45 minutes. Prior to the mayhem that started at 7:24, MBD thought that he would come over to my side of the bed for a little cuddle (i.e., GROPE) time. It was like 5:00 a.m., and I didn't go to bed until like 1:00. WTF!!!! I barely remember it, but I believe the words, "Don't touch me you f*ing pervert! Go away, and stop that damn heavy breathing in my ear!" There was also some shoving and hitting involved, I think.

If you need me, I'll be hiding out with a good book...which reminds me, please check out my previous post & leave your recommendations for good reads. Mama needs a reality break!