A few weeks ago, we tried to adopt a kitten. The key word here is "tried."
In less than 24 hours, it went from excitement and joy and love...
To this:
If pictures had sound, you would hear shrieks of sheer terror.
Now mind you, my children have been around cats their entire lives. I've had my adult cat, Sammy, longer than I've had my husband. The kitten has since moved in with a friend, but the fear of cats still remains. The kids cannot walk past Sammy without screaming in fear.
This morning, I sent Big Kid upstairs to get a clean pair of socks. He had "dressed" himself in a too-small shirt and pants, but had somehow missed his sock drawer. (Come to think of it, I wonder if he changed his underwear? Too late now.) Anywho, I said, "You have EIGHT MINUTES until your bus gets here. Run upstairs and get some clean socks."
A minute later, he comes downstairs whining. He's still barefoot.
"Where are your socks?! Your bus comes in FIVE MINUTES!"
His response? "I couldn't get them. Sammy is laying in the hallway."
Being the sympathetic mom that I am, I told him to march his butt back upstairs and come down with socks or I was going to send him to school late, with a note that explaining that he is terrified of big, fluffy, kitty cats who take naps.
Big Kid suddenly found the courage to change his socks.
Hunger Pains
My children are hungry all.the.time. It wears on a woman to hear, "Can I have a snack? Can I have a treat? Can I have pasta for dinner? No sauce. Just pasta and butter. I'm hungry mom! I'm SO HUNGRY!" all.the.time.
Sometimes I think to myself, there is no physical way that they are actually hungry. I mean, they have just eaten, and I can't remember the last time that I had anything except water.
This morning, Beam was sitting at the table. She was sitting in front of two plates, one contained a sliced up apple, the other contained a waffle. To her right were cups of orange juice and dry cereal. She got up from the table, after eating a bite of each, and yelled to me, "I'm HUNGRY MAMA!" I told her to eat her food. She went to the kitchen, got a stool, opened the cabinet, and demanded cheddar fishies. Not wanting to fight (and wanting to eat my own cereal in peace), I put some in a bowl for her. She walked to the living room, put the bowl on the shelf without eating a single Goldfish, and came back to ask me for a bite of my cereal.
Honest to God, I could rip my hair out some days. Every morning, I found myself shouting, "I've fed you seven times! I've been awake for FOUR HOURS and haven't eaten. Leave me alone for five minutes before I put you back to bed until dinner."
Grocery Shopping
Grocery shopping with four kids is so annoying that it deserves a post of its own. Some day, I will write that post. For now, though, I'll share this morning's annoyance.
I wear Muffin in a Beco carrier while we shop. I pray to the gods of the grocery store that Beam will cooperate and ride in the front seat of the shopping cart (she won't.) I direct Toast and Big Kid to hold onto the cart or walk beside me and NOT TO TOUCH ANYTHING.
It never fails that the kids somehow end up wandering back and forth in front of the shopping cart, "leading the way," so to speak. They don't know if we need grapes or cereal or to restock our supply of vodka, so they have no idea where to go but yet, they end up in front of the crazy train. After running down two toddlers and fruitlessly trying to tell them to go left or right, I finally snap. I tell Toast to hold onto the cart. I tell Big Kid to hold his sister's hand. The conversation goes the same each and every time.
"You guys cannot walk in front of the cart. Hold your sister's hand and follow me."
"But it's STICKY!"
"HOLD HER HAND."
"She's so gross!"
"HOLD. HER.HAND. NOW. or you will not get a cookie from the bakery."
Relenting and taking his sister's hand, "Fine. Beam, you are SO GROSS."
Somehow, we manage to get out of the house with clean socks and buy fresh food at the grocery store. But I still don't get to eat it.
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