I got up at 6:40, which is sleeping in, so I can't complain. Boy Two was up a few minutes later, in tears because breakfast wasn't delivered to him in bed within seconds of his becoming concious.
Through the tears, I cooked eggs, most of which he threw on the floor before demanding a large serving of BBQ pop-chips. He did not volunteer to help clean up the eggs.
I tried to take a shower alone, but Boy Two came in and stood outside the tub, ripping at his clothes trying to take off his shirt and yelling, "Bahf. Bahf!" Okay, fine. I took off his clothes and tried not to slip on the super-hero bananza that he dumped in the tub upon entering.
After the shower, wet kid tried to run all over the apartment butt-naked, refusing to put on his diaper lest hell freeze over. I tried to get dressed myself instead, so he decided to cry some more. Fun times all around.
Boy One woke up from the screaming and immediately began to relate his dream to me in intricate detail. There were giant kangaroos and swords and he was a tad embarrassed to admit that the whole thing had creeped him out. Hard to blame the kid for that, though. I never want to find myself facing a squad of giant sword wielding kangaroos either. That kid has the strangest dreams.
Everyone up. Everyone dressed. Everyone in the car. I called my parents on the way to church, and Boy Two fell asleep in the car. I carried him, drowsy, into the sanctuary.
The boys sat with me for half of the service, but the sermon wasn't to Boy Two's liking, so we had to leave when he started running up and down the last row of chairs. Thankfully no one sneered at us on our way out.
On the way to the car, I stopped at the bathroom, and while I was using the facilities Boy One turned off the lights and refused to turn them on again. Boy Two squealed with laughter until he ran into the door in the darkness. I managed to find both of them and get us to the car without any further damage.
Then, we were off to Ikea. It went about ad well as could be expected. High points included when Boy Two spilled my soup all over his pants and the tantrum of the stuffed giant carrot I refused to buy. Ice cream soothed the soul of all upon departure, but Boy Two wore more of it than he managed to eat.
I've given up on ever having a clean car again.
Next came Sprouts and a fit over when we would or would not go to the park. Miraculously they were both bribed successfully with the purchase of grapes, so we managed to escape yet another public establishment relatively unscathed.
Then it was time for the park. I spent 45 minutes following Boy Two around while Boy One ran here and there and climbed on top of the tube slide. "Better the top of the slide than the roof of my apartment," I thought. When I finally convinced Boy One to go, it was almost two o'clock.
The days are so, so long.
After that, we came home, ate lunch, put the baby down for a nap, washed two loads of laundry, did some dishes, put together the lamp from Ikea and played a round of Lego Star Wars. Then, my husband took the boys back to the park, and I went to Trader Joe's, put the groceries away, and wrote this lovely reflection on why I am never excited for the weekend.
It's six o'clock.... Man, am I ever ready to go to bed.