Most of my day today was great. After a grumpy start (why are my eyes always so red and bloodshot I can’t even read the date square on my watch in the morning?), we headed out to a playdate. And thank God, because I really needed some fun and laughter. My kids were almost entirely well-behaved (except when I tried to extricate them from the house, which involved walking past a playroom we hadn’t been in) and I got to talk with a good friend. I had a very happy feeling after the morning.
Then things turned ugly.
I don’t know exactly how it happened, but all three of my children were screaming at the same time, but about different things. First I promised them chocolate milk only to discover that we had about 2/3 of a cup of milk. So Quinn and Sam shared that. Jack, who was quietly laying on a couch elsewhere, missed out, but he doesn’t like chocolate milk anyway. (I know. Psycho.) Then after Quinn finished his milk, Sam offered him some of his, only to drink it when Q didn’t move fast enough. More screaming—some by me. My blog name may have to be changed to “Screameyland.”
Then I finally got the mac n’ cheese ready and served, so I went to get Jack. Jack wanted me to carry him to the table. For some reason I can’t quite remember (something about him not always getting his way), I refused. And then I sort of drag/coaxed him to the table, where Quinn was still screaming (because he wanted more mac n’ cheese—not that he’d eaten any yet), Sam had started yelling (I have no idea about what), and Jack, already screaming, fit right in.
Then the phone rang. It was Alex calling from work. “Hell on Earth, how can I help you?” I asked over the cacophony. I swear he paused to consider just hanging up the phone, but to his credit he remained on the line and even tried to talk Jack down. Jack, who will someday earn many Oscars for his ability to cry buckets on demand, sobbed.
Sam piped in to let me know that, “This apple juice tastes poisonous.” All right then, on to drink number 3: orange juice. At this point the only liquids left in my house are tapwater and the Super Big Gulp of Diet Coke stashed in my fridge.
One by one the little dudes “finished” their lunch and departed the table. And by “finished,” I mean “ignored.” Out of the whole box, the three of them consumed maybe ten bites. That’s 89 cents I’ll never see again. Although in their defense, it was generic mac and cheese made with water instead of milk. I sure as hell didn’t eat any.
We had another playdate in the afternoon, this one at my house. It was with my “blind playdate” that I met at the park last week. This was also a fantastic time. All the kids got along really well. In fact, there was a bit of a to-do at the end of the playdate because the other kids wanted us to come to their house for dinner. Tonight. And if not for dinner, then Sam was to come over for a sleepover. Again, tonight.
They were lured away with promises of grilled cheese for dinner. The idea of which I promptly stole and made for us. Understandably hungry, they chowed down. And Quinn fell asleep on my lap watching The Backyardigans.
And there’s the Hell Sandwich of my day. At least the middle was easy to pick out so I could just enjoy the bread.