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May Day in 2003In May of 2003 I had an unbelievable day. By 10 am I realized that it was the kind of day that needed to be recorded for posterity. (Quite literally, I want to be able to show it to my kids.) So I began taking notes. A year later, when life wasn’t quite so insane, I wrote up the notes and posted it in my livejournal. It has sat there ever since, lingering in obscurity. I decided to bring it out onto this website because it still makes me laugh with disbelief that I ever survived a day so crazy. I should note that all the events told below really happened all in the same day. I did not compress or consolidate for literary effect.
Part 1: Before School
4 am. I awoke blearily certain something needed my attention. My first thought was that 2-month-old Patches had cried. Then I heard the whispers. Patches was more the howling-loudly type, so this definitely was not him. I staggered from my bed to discover five-year-old Link and two-year-old Gleek in the hallway.
Link had a flashlight in hand and had awakened Gleek so they could finish the game which bedtime had interrupted the night before. As I herded them both back to bed, Link tried to assure me that it would be alright if they stayed up while I slept because he would watch Gleek. I in turn tried to convince him that the middle of the night was not the time for flashlight games.
I succeeded in putting the two back to bed, but apparently not in convincing Link. Less than 30 minutes after I crashed back in bed and to sleep, I woke again. I opened my eyes to discover Link’s eyes right in my face, his nose barely an inch from my own. It was perhaps fortunate that Howard was out of town on business, otherwise my startled shriek would almost certainly have awakened him. This time my “discussion” with Link on the way back to his bedroom qualified as a “scolding.”
I next became groggily awake to the sound of more whispers. Link had awakened Gleek again. Since the clock claimed the time as 7 am, I decided to give up on sleep an hour early and start my day.
At this point in my life weekday mornings were almost entirely focused on getting Kiki ready and out the door for school. This had to be carefully managed so that the process stayed happy. I had to navigate the hazards of breakfast, getting dressed, and tooth brushing. On this morning I was doing it all one handed, because Patches squalled every time he was put down. I was in the midst of all of this when I became aware that Link was chasing a naked Gleek all over the house. He’d decided to get her dressed and was trying to get her to hold still long enough for him to put clothes on her. Gleek had happily co-operated with the clothes-off part of this project, but then decided that it was much more fun to run away and giggle while Link chased after with clothes in hand. Link was frustrated and angry at her uncooperativeness. I provided Link with reinforcements and we got Gleek dressed.
I returned to the Kiki managing routine only peripherally aware that Link and Gleek had put on boots and tromped into the backyard. At the time our back yard had huge expanses of bare dirt waiting for sod to be laid. The backyard had also been rained on steadily for the last 24 hours. I can only blame fatigue that I failed to remember these two things in time.
Fifteen minutes later Link and Gleek returned to the back door. They barely made it because they each had an inch-thick layer of goopy mud covering their boots. We were getting perilously close to the to-school drop-off drive and so I simply stripped boots from feet and threw the muddy boots into the bathtub “to be cleaned later.” I scrambled and found clean shoes for the bare feet. Then I sent Link and Gleek to the car to get in their seats. I followed only moments later, herding Kiki and toting Patches. The driveway was empty. Link and Gleek had not gone to the car. Instead they were at the far end of the Cul de Sac splashing in a knee-deep muddy puddle. Amid protests from all four children, (Patches doesn’t want to be put down, Link and Gleek want to play longer, Kiki wants to know why she doesn’t get to play in the puddle) I strapped everyone firmly into their seats glad in the knowledge that for at least the next 10 minutes I’d know exactly where they were and what they were doing.
Part 2: Playing Babies
Usually life slowed down a little after the school drop-off. The breathing space was critical to my sanity after the morning rush. Unfortunately on this day Link and Gleek took advantage of the fact that my Mommy Radar was turned down several notches. About 30 minutes after our arrival home, my radar alerted me to the fact that I’d failed to ping Gleek and Link for awhile. I vaguely remembered them heading downstairs and so I began my search there.
I found them in the guest bedroom, stripped naked, alternately jumping into, and climbing out of the playpen. My rhetorical query: “what on earth do you think you’re doing?” was answered with an enthusiastic: “We’re playing babies!” I put an end to the game by collapsing the playpen (thus discovering that they’d broken a board in the base of it) and ordering them up the stairs and into clothes. I supervised long enough to be sure that clothes were being put on and went back to Patches who was crying to be fed.
Within minutes I became aware of odd noises and thumps and giggles coming from upstairs in the room that Gleek and Patches shared. By the time I’d reached the top of the stairs I’d identified the SCREEE sound as protests of abuse from Patches crib. I attempted to open the door only to discover they’d locked it.
When my children lock the door it can only be for one of two reasons; They want to lock out other children, or they want to lock out a parent because they know they are doing something that is verboten. Fortunately whoever installed the doorknobs on my children’s bedrooms was wise in the ways of small children. All of the doorknobs are easily pickable. The moment Gleek and Link heard the sounds of mom-picking-the-lock, complete and utter silence replaced the giggles and jumping. I opened the door to see two wide-eyed faces staring at me from inside Patches’ crib. They were still “playing babies.” It looked and sounded more like hyper-active monkeys to me. But at least they were clothed this time. I informed the “babies” firmly that the crib was off-limits except to actual babies ie: Patches. They climbed out, and I went back to Patches who was protesting his interrupted feeding.
Ten minutes later with Patches sated, I again became aware of thumps and giggles from upstairs. I hiked back up the stairs to discover the door locked again. I picked the lock again. True to the letter of the law, Link and Gleek were not in the crib. Instead I found Gleek jumping up and down on her mattress. Bedding was strewn across the room tornado fashion. Link was nowhere to be seen. I soon determined that Link was underneath the bed that Gleek was jumping on. He was trying to figure out why the bed made that crack noise when he “Wa-pounded” it.
I doubt the term wa-pound is familiar to anyone outside our family. People who play Nintendo Mario Bros games will probably be familiar with the term ground-pound. A wa-pound is the same thing only charmingly mispronounced. For those who have forgotten or don’t play Mario Bros, a ground-pound is when one of those little electronic characters jumps as high as he can and spins and lands on his bottom, thus imparting extra kinetic force to the recipient of this maneuver. It is a useful move to know because it inflicts more damage on the enemies. Unfortunately in this case the enemy was the bed and damage was indeed inflicted. Link succeeded in breaking a wooden slat in the bunkboard which supported Gleek’s mattress.
Who would have thought that “playing babies" could be so destructive?
Part 3: Sandbox to Bathtub
It was about 11 am and I had achieved a moment of peace. Patches was sleeping, Link and Gleek were playing contentedly in the sandbox, now was a good time for me to grab a bite to eat and forestall the low-blood sugar crash that was looming in my future. I fixed a sandwich. Then sandwich in hand, I wandered to the window to check on Link and Gleek. Link was naked.
I abandoned my sandwich and went out to discuss this turn of events with Link. Apparently while using the newly installed drinking fountain to make swimming pools for the sandbox toys, Link’s clothes had gotten damp. Naked was better than wet-clothed, or so I was informed. Who knew? When I began insisting that he put his clothes back on, Link decided that rather than go to all that bother, he’d just stay naked and have a bath instead.
Baths require a significant set up effort (locating specific toys, no not that toy the other one, towels, soap, to-bubble-bath or not-to-bubble-bath, and water temperature) and a high level of supervision (making sure they don’t flood the bathroom or drown each other.) I wanted down time to eat my sandwich. Just 10 minutes. I told him No.
I returned inside to my sandwich, but remained at the window to make sure that Link’s clothes remained on. Link stood still for a moment, obviously thinking. He then walked to the sandbox, grabbed a handful of muddy-wet sand and placed it on top of his head. At our house sand-in-the-hair is automatic cause for bathing, a fact which Link apparently intended to use to his advantage. Link won. We trooped upstairs. Gleek came along because bath time is a not-to-be-missed treat. It is a mother-sanctioned chance to get naked and splash, no way she wants to miss that.
The tromping into the house awakened Patches who then demanded to be held. So following Link, toting Patches, and trailing Gleek, we all headed upstairs to the bathtub. We arrived at the tub to discover it full of this morning’s muddy boots. Running bath water and collecting bath items one handed is within my range of capability, scrubbing muddy boots and muddy tub is not. The bath had to wait.
During the aftermath of that announcement Patches decided that being held wasn’t enough, he wanted fed. Again. I returned downstairs to feed him, leaving behind the whining. The whining stopped. What a relief that was. And worrisome. Link and Gleek hadn’t come out of the bathroom. Then I heard water running. I cut Patches lunch short and returned upstairs to investigate. Link and Gleek had attempted to clean the mud off of their boots. Where I previously had muddy boots and tub in a clean bathroom, I now had a muddy bathroom.
As I looked around at muddy smears on walls, floor, sink, mirror, tub, toilet, and children I failed to find the energy for anger. Instead I ushered the children out of the room and shut the door. I’d deal with the mess later. After all, that had worked so well with the muddy boots.
After wiping Link and Gleek clean I sat them at the table with crackers. I put Patches in his carrier on the floor where he could watch his siblings and hopefully be sufficiently entertained. I went for a glass of water to go with my partially eaten sandwich. Then I heard giggles and Link announced: “Him wikes my feet!” Link had offered his big toe to Patches who did about the only thing a two month old can do. He stuck it in his mouth and sucked on it. My explanation that feet are dirty and don’t belong in the baby’s mouth was answered by Link holding up his foot for inspection to show how “clean” it was.
All I wanted was 10 minutes and a sandwich. Really.
Epilogue:
After lunch the insanity dissipated somewhat. The kids settled into lower energy activities that weren’t quite so creative. Most days parenting four kids are not like the one described here. But every so often I get one like this where I chase from crisis to crisis while the kids scamper off to lay ground work for the next one.
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