Poopy Day # Two

FOR THE FAINT OF HEART: Skip this entry.

Today was the most fun I've had since the day I crashed my car while driving three of my kids and one of their friends to what was supposed to be our destination, Six Flags Over Great America. Instead we, along with occupants of six (or more) other cars involved in a total of five accidents along the cloverleaf of the expressway that day, spent our day in the hospital.

On this day, the 2nd day of April, 2009, my morning started at 6:30 A.M. when the first of my little day troopers arrived, a 3 1/2 year old little boy. I rarely watch him and when I do, he usually doesn't arrive until at least 8:30. His mother told me that since he generally didn't awaken at 6 A.M., he would probably go to sleep right away. 

He didn't.

Instead, this little bomb left explosions of furniture and toys everywhere. He likes to rearrange my rooms by throwing everything around so that my house looks more like a garbage dump than a daycare.

Followed soon after were four more children, two of whom are babies. I rushed around fixing breakfast, snack, changing diapers...

And that's when it got interesting.

Trooper #1 pooped in his pull-up – not his diaper, which would have made it easier to change – his pull-up. But it wasn't your ordinary solid poop; it was liquified and soaked through his pants (which I didn't realize until after lunch). Nothing makes a house smell more aromatic than wet poop soaked in a carpet.

I needed to get out, to walk, to breathe in the fresh air, to clear my (now aching) head. So the six of us went for a walk, where Trooper #1 and Trooper #2 (a boy, almost 5 years old) fought the entire walk. Like cavemen marking their territory, they battle for the superior position in any and every situation they encounter. 

Today it was sticks. 

"I have more sticks than you." 

"Oh, yeah? Well, my sticks are bigger."

"Oh, yeah? My sticks are longer."

Then I have to referee. "It doesn't matter how big your stick is or how long your stick is or whether you have more sticks than anybody else. What matters is how you treat each other. So be nice."

By the time we got home, I was so eager for quiet time that I practically threw lunch together and started feeding them a full half hour before their usual time. The babies were crabby and my nerves were beginning to fray.

And that's when the lunch lady showed up. I belong to a lunch program and get unannounced visits. Today was one of those unannounced visit days. 

So while lunch lady was leafing through her encyclopedia of papers she wanted me to read and sign, the babies were crying and fussing and yawning, and Trooper #1 was hitting everybody, because he's practicing to be a battleship, and the kids are crying, and I'm signing and reading and feeding and washing up and filling the plates with more food and the cups with more milk and the lunch lady is sitting back with her feet up on the table.

OK, I'm kidding about that last part. But seriously? Can you not see what's going on here? Bedlam, I tell you! If I don't get some QUIET TIME RIGHT NOW, I WILL GO COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY INSANE!

And then the lunch lady left. And quiet time came. And three of the five kids fell asleep. It was a miracle.

And then ... Trooper #2's mom came a couple of hours early.

And then ... Trooper #1's mom came to pick him up.

And then three more miracles happened all at the same time. Parents were pulling into my driveway to take their children home.

Ahhhhhhhhh

I'm alone now. I'm trying to hear George Harrison's song play in my head, "All Things Must Pass," and tell myself, "Tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow is Friday."

As long as I tell myself that tomorrow will not, I repeat NOT, be a repeat of today, I can sleep peacefully tonight knowing I deserve a full night's sleep with wondrous dreams. My day is done!

Oh, darn, I just looked into the playroom.