My inner cookie monster

It is Christmas.

I am a weight watcher, and recently diagnosed Gluten Sensitive.

And I am the official cookie baker for the family.  Sigh....

 I love to bake.  Let me say that again.  I LOVE TO BAKE.  It is relaxing, and it has all of the aromatherapy I need to put me in a good mood.  I like to bake cookies the most, because they are little bite sized pieces of love.  It is the most clean fun one can have in a kitchen.  I love the way the mixer whirrs, and the sound of eggs cracking.  I love the feel of the dough as I spoon it onto the baking sheet.  And I love, love, love the smell it makes.  Cookies to me, are just about the most perfect food.  I have found the perfect recipies for cookies that are not too cake-y, crunchy, and just the right amount of chewy.  I have done a lot of trial and error, and have mastered it. 

And this year.  I can't eat it. 

This is just about the saddest thing in the world to me at this moment. 

I have been trying to avoid them, but sometimes I just can't resist. Then everytime I try to eat one of my creations, I feel really ill afterward.  Great for Weight Watchers I suppose, no added pounds or extra points to count from cookies, if I really want to look at the bright side.  (there is no bright side to this people.  Spare me.)

And, it is not  memories of making cookies with my mom  that make cookies so special to me, my mom is not a cookie maker.  She is a pie maker (mmmmm....pie is good too...).  So I do not have some cherished memory thing going on there.  It is literally the cookie itself that makes me happy.  A round little piece of yummy-ness that just makes you smile when you eat it.  Try taking a warm cookie out of the oven, and (after it cools of course.  Been there done that mouth burn.  I am worse with waiting for cookies than I am with coffee!) take a bite and try to NOT be a little happier.  You can't.  You just can't be completely unhappy while eating a warm chocolate chip cookie.  I mean, I have had tears, and then taken a bite, and still not smiled, but my soul was grinning on the inside.  And we all think the same thing in our heads when we eat it.  "Mmmm.  Cookie.  Good.  Mmmm." 

I am not talking about the store bought variety.  It is not the same.  In fact, some of those store bought "cookies" are an abomination. You might as well just call them sweet crackers.  Pffft, calling themselves cookies.  No, a cookie is sort of crunchy, but sort of chewy and just a little soft.  It goes stale if you don't eat it in a few days, and therefore must be consumed fast.  Those storebought "cookies" will last forever.  There is no love in them.  No aromatherapy.  A cookie is an event, not a grab and go.  Real cookies are meant to mean something.

Which is why I am so sad about this stupid gluten intolerance.  I found a flour that will make a passable cookie.  It works for chocolate chip, but not sugar or gingerbread (my other two favs).  But even in the chocolate chip, the texture is not the same.  sigh.... 

Oh cookie...why have you forsaken me???? 

I guess I will just have to substitute dark chocolate love for cookie love.

The cons of travelling with my family

It is almost that time. Nearly every New Year's we head to North Carolina to spend the week after Christmas until New Years Day with my brothers and sisters. 

I mean, we are pretty awesome and fun.  There is always a lot of laughing and story telling that goes on.  Lots of cards, and cooking, and a whole lot of sampling of the egg nog, if you know what I mean!!

Two days after spending Christmas with my entire side of the family, just because we apparently love each other THAT much, the majority of my sibling gang (you know I am the youngest of seven right?) all take off to invade my oldest brother's house in North Carolina to spend the rest of Christmas week, and New Years together.  He is the sibling that lives the farthest away, therefore he is dubbed the "vacation house".  Plus it is normally about 20 degrees warmer there, so it feels like summer to us. (We actually hang out in his driveway in lawn chairs, in shorts, soaking up the sun.  I am sure his neighbors think we are completely crazy.)   I love going, because there are just that many more people available to help me with the kiddos, giving me a real sense of vacation, instead of the vacations we take alone, and I am essentially doing the same job in a strange place with none of the comforts of home.  As much as I love love love love this time, there are a few drawbacks to this trip. Not enough to detract us from going every year, but they are enough to give us pause every December to weight the pros and cons of making the trek.  ( Don't worry big brother, we always decide on going, this year is no different!!)

Cons to traveling post Christmas with my family to North Carolina:

1. The 8 hour car ride with 4 kids, 3 of them under the age of 4.
Now I am certainly blessed to have a DVD player in the van, and let me tell you, we play that sucker the WHOLE TRIP DOWN.  It is the one time of year I will let my kids watch 8 hours of TV nonstop.  The problem with this is finding something that will pacify not only my littles, but also not annoy the heck out of my 10 year old.  We do a lot of Disney movies, but some of them ( like Brave) are too scary for the little ones, and unfortunately the scary part is the only part the 10 year old looks forward to.  He is just on the cusp of not liking those movies any more, and so where he is totally getting into the "Goonies" type of movies, the little ones aren't ready for hearing Chunk say "Oh shit, what?"  when the penis breaks off of the statue. ( Though from the week I have had, I am sure they have heard that phrase anyway.)  Finding the balance is a slippery little dance.

2. Packing.
Now I love the Admiral very much, and he works super hard to provide for our family.  So I do not expect him to have to help pack for the trip, because once we are ready to go, he is the one that loads and unloads everything, and does almost all of the driving.  So I pack everyone but him.  This means, I PACK ALL 4 KIDS AND MYSELF.  And because I am me, I never pack ahead of time.  My bestie and I are so much alike this way. "Is it the day before the trip?  Oh, I will pack tomorrow morning, it will be fine...."  I realize that this is all my fault, and I don't intend for this to happen, it just does. 

Then we have to play the adult version of Tetris, and pack the van with everything for all 6 of us.  It is so much easier now, than it was a year ago, because the only portable crib I have to take is for Little man, and I don't need to take any exersaucers or swings anymore!  Hooray!  So it is all clothes and toys and videos and snacks, and pillows and blankets, and one portable crib, etc....  all in a van with 6 people already in it.

3.  The Dog.
It never ever fails.  I always forget until a week before we leave, to get someone to watch the damn dog.  Then I am like, "AW crap!  The dog!   What are we going to do about the dog?"  He has seizures when he is stressed, so he can't stay in a doggie hotel.  For the last few years, we have been able to count on neighbors at the last minute, because they all stay home.  But I don't know anyone around here yet, and the one person I do know, lives a block away, and I just can't ask for them to come over 3 times a day like that.  I just can't.  This year, though, I was lucky.  I remembered today, 2 whole weeks before the trip!  So I have a call out to one of my sisters who doesn't go down, to see if she would like to house sit.

4.  The children.
Now I know, the kids have to come with us. (But do they???  Kidding. )  There was a time when we could go down, before kids, and have a good time and drink ourselves silly, and stay up late, and not care.  But now, we do have kids, and these kids go to bed at 8.  And they are up at 6:30. Which means, so are we.  And have you ever tried to get up with a toddler while having a hangover, or even just after you have been up late sober?  It is no fun at all.   And usually there is someone sleeping in the living room at my brother's.  So I have to keep my loud kids quiet in the kitchen with videos on my Kindle until he/she wakes up (usually my middle sister, God love her.  She always wakes up with a smile, even though I know they woke her.)  We just are not a quiet people.  No matter how hard I try to teach them, Thumbellina does not know how to whisper.

5. The children.  part 2
With all of their aunts and uncles around, there is no shortage of people to ask for a cookie.  Or candy.  Or treats.  Or soda.  Or carried.  Or read to.  Or played with.  Or anything I say no to, to ask if they will yes indeed, give in to.  So when we come back, there is usually a 2 week de-tox that I have to do with them from being spoiled rotten, and out of routine.  Do not get me wrong, it is an aunt/uncle/cousin/grandparent's right, or obligation really, to spoil their niece/nephew/cousin/grandchild.  It just takes a while to get the entitlement out of their system.

6. The children. Part 3
At home, my kids have their own rooms, except the girls, who share.  So usually it is just them I have to stomp on to get to go to bed.  Over New Year's, they all sleep in the same room, so I have to usually sit out side of the room and be the "shush" police until they fall asleep. I am usually sitting in the hallway for an hour, playing Angry Birds, and wishing I could chuck one of those black bomb birds in there and knock them all out. 

7. The children. Part 4

Most of the week, I am lucky if I see Your Royal Highness at mealtimes, or really at all.  He is usually holed up with his cousins in the game room, playing or watching whatever video game they are trying to conquer.  Unfortunately, this year, his cousins are all grown and have jobs, and have moved away from home, or are in high school, and are not making the trip this year.  So I am going to have to get creative, and play entertainer if I don't want to hear "Moooooooom, I am soooooooo boooooooored!" all week.

But like I said.  None of that is enough to keep me away from spending time and having fun with my brothers and sisters for the week.  They are cool people, and though it usually involves us making some sacrifices in the comfort department, it is so well worth it, and it is hopefully teaching my kids how important a really good relationship is with your siblings, and HOPEFULLY they will continue the tradition, well after I am not on this planet anymore.  Because Christmas, is after all, a time for being together, and being with family.  And I sure do love mine to death!!

A day in the life of a home daycare mom

Can I just take a minute to let you all know what a crappy couple of weeks this has been.  You know, I try really hard to be a positive person, and find the humor in little things, but good sweet baby Jesus, this week, and the one before it, have tested me to the very core of my being, and pushed me to the very border of sane and insanity with these co workers of mine. 

Let me break it down for you how my usual week day goes.  I say weekday because on the weekend I am minus two of my co workers, as they are at their homes with their families (and from what one of them tells me, driving them to the brink of insanity.)  But we love them anyway, which is good, because otherwise I am pretty sure I would be in jail, or on a bender at Matt the Millers, eating wings, gigantic slices of layer cake, shotgunning pineapple upside down cake martinis, and watching college football. (oh, that sounds so freaking amazeballs...)

So here is it, my daily schedule for Monday thru friday

5:00am  wakey wakey eggs and bakey!  I get up, keep my clothes on, as I most likely slept in the
clothes I will wear today.  Do not judge me.  Picking out clothes takes time away from 'me time' on the couch with my Kindle and coffee.

5:01- Me time on the couch with my Kindle and coffee.  I check statues on Facebook, stalk the people I stalk, read my favorite blogs, and check emails.  This is MY time.  I would watch TV, but that may wake up the natives, and I am already pushing it with shifting my weight on the couch.  They have ears like hawks. (until I ask them to come here, go potty, put this toy away......)

6:00- The Admiral usually makes an appearance.  Comes in silently for coffee, and then it is US time on the couch with our respective electronic devices. 

6:30- Finally turn on the news (that I will only get to see literally 2 minutes of), and it is now safe for anyone to come down, as I am now working on cup number 2 of my coffee, and can make coherent sentences. 

7:00- Most of the kids are up, already ( the TV woke them at promptly 6:32) and they have been changed out of diapers, and put in either pull ups or underpants.  I go and wake Your Royal Highness, and am greeted with various levels of groans and "stop it"s as I sing some random song to annoy him enough to wake up.  Then he lays back down, so I flip on his light and walk out as he yells "NOOOO!!!! MOOOOOM!" 

7:10 Extra child #1 arrives, and mom dashes out the door as she is perpetually late, but she is pregnant, so there is absolutely no judgement.  I make breakfast for all children, and the Admiral who is already on a phone call from work even though he does not technically start until 8. 

7:30 Eat my breakfast, watch the 50 millionth episode of Go Diego Go, and curse rescue pack under

my breath.  Also this is the prime moment for Your Royal Highness to decide to play God and dole out the gummy vitamins to all of the littles, choosing the colors he knows will infuriate Mini me the most, so that she screams at him, sticks her tongue out at him, and he can tattle on her for this.  Then I get to tell him, for the millionth time to please just take a handful out, if he insists on doing this, and let them choose.  (Every Day!!!) 

8:00  Head down to the playroom to get dressed and play awhile, while I finish my coffee, and watch some news for real this time.  This is always interrupted by Your Royal Highness screaming at me from upstairs for various reasons, "I need Socks!!", "Where is my Trumpet book??", "I can't find my coat!!", "Where are my shoes!!!"

8:10  Extra child #2 arrives with mom, and is greeted by her fan base.  They literally all scream like she is a rock star every day.  This is the most pleasant, and amicable they will all be at the same time, most likely all day. 

8:20  Your Royal Highness yells good bye, I yell I love him, and he is gone for a blissful 6 hours.  Thank you School.  I do love you so much for that. 

9:20 Take all of my co workers up for snack.  This takes, I am not kidding, 20 minutes.  It is possibly 5 yards from the play room to the kitchen.  20 minutes to get them all in their chairs.  20. Minutes.

10:00 Attempt circle time in the playroom.  I TRY to get them to clean up, so there are less distractions around, so they can focus on the book, song, game or what have you.  Plus it is good for kids to learn to clean up their mess. This never ever goes well, someone always ends up crying.  It is usually me.  There is a lot of deep breathing involved, and I am going to need surgery for the amount of time I roll my eyes.  We finally get our schmidt together and make it into our little group.  We do calendar, go over our letter of the week, and read a book.  Then we will learn a song, and play a game.  This does not go as you just read it.  It is punctuated by me chasing after 3 of the 5, trying to persuade, bribe, and threaten them to sit for just a couple of minutes, for even just one of the activities.  Again, there are usually tears involved.  They are usually mine. 

10:45: We try to do at least some kind of art.  This usually goes pretty well. 

11:00  Lunch and movie of some sort.  Yay!

11:45 Potty and pull ups

12 NAP!!!!  Sweet sweet naptime!!!  This is usually where I go from patient mom/teacher, to nap nazi.  I don't care if you aren't tired, you will lay in bed and read.  I don't care if you can't sleep, you will pretend to.  You. Will. Nap.  So help me..... 

2:30 It is once again safe to be near me, I am no longer in nap nazi mode.  You may now commence Snack. 

3:00  Snack is over, head back down to the playroom.  I put on some nice music, and usually just play referee. 

4:00 Your royal highness is home, and I give him a hug, then in literally .000009 seconds after the hug,  let the homework fight begin.....

4:30 All extra children have vacated the premisis

5:00 The Admiral comes to the playroom to take over while I make dinner.  This is usually greeted by children clinging to my legs begging to come with me.  I don't know why, these are the same people who wanted NOTHING to do with me in the playroom, and ran from me when I asked for a hug.  Forget it people, mommy needs quiet to cook. 

6:00 Dinnertime shenanigans (please read Let them eat Cake for a synopsis)

7:00 Pajamas and Bedtime (Please read Every. Single. Night. for the breakdown)

9:10 Everyone is in bed, and the Admiral and I try to catch up on DVR'd shows and make if for about 30 minutes before one or both of us is asleep on the couch. 

10:00 Me asleep in bed.

So there it is.  My day.  I know you are all jealous.  But really, it is not all the chocolate bon bons and leisure time I make it out to be.  Take the last two weeks.  Add to that nonsense three sick littles, and a 10 year old ADHD kid on Thanksgiving Break (they had a freakin 6 day weekend!  They had Monday off too!  Really?!?!?!)  who also ran out of his meds (GAH!!!!)  and racing to clean this house for my gigantic family to come for Thanksgiving, and this can be a lot of work.  I just pray when I am old, and guilt my kids into not putting me into a nursing home, and go to live with them instead, that they will remember this, or even read this blog and realize how good they had it.  Then I can say to them what they say to me, "I want eggs!"  "Wipe my butt!" "I want to watch MY movie!"  Then it will have all been worth it......

Tis the season, but not the one you are thinking of

Twas the day after Thanksgiving,

And, this happens a lot,
The children were covered with
Sneezing and snot.

Right after the holiday
my kids always get sick,
The person who gave it
 to them will be hit.

But just like each year
after turkey and stuffing,
The kids all get fevers
and noses start running.

It never does fail!
During each Christmas season,
the littlest one, little man,
starts up  wheezing

 I look in my med drawer
and pick up the potions.
Albuterol, tylenol
Vicks vapor rub lotion

And motrin and NyQuil,
suction-nose aspirator,
And steam baths, and tissues,
and that damn humidifier.

I use the whole arsenal
of flu-timey weapons,
and just cause God loves me
I also need tampons (really?!?!?!?  Now?!?!)

 Up at the hours of
12, 3, 5, and 7.
Then no nap for me ,
But they get one (that's heaven.)

Cleaning up puke, and
tossing used tissues.
Getting little man to take his inhailer
(he has some issues)

But this dance is a dance
that I do every year.
And in dealing with sick kids
for weeks, I'll shed tears.

But this is a part of
having big families,
One will get sick,
then soon all feel lousy.

And we will get through it,
Somehow always do,
And one or both of us
Will get the stomach flu. (usually the Admiral)

Our  pictures will all
have kids with red  noses,
To match Rudolf's I guess,
in our Santa Clause poses

Christmas eve will have carols
of coughing and mucus,
and if we are lucky
One of them puke-as.

Christmas day is one,
We have yet to enjoy,
with all of the kids
usually whiney (Oh boy!!)

Then we go down south
to visit the family.
We make at least one trip
to Urgent care, usually.

And just in time for
The new Years day feast,
When I think that I have
had only 2 hours of sleep,

They all start to get better!!
Just in time for the end!
And this is how all of my
holiday's go, friend.

This year is no different.
The kids are all sick.
My house feels infested
with the germs and the ick.

Every year!  Every time!
The present, and past.
But I hope that  YOU have
A Merry Christ-mas!

What if adults talked like kids?

So I was listening to my kids talk to other day, and I had a thought.  What if, WHAT IF, I talked to my friends the way they talk to each other.  What kind of a jerk would I be?  I certainly wouldn't have any friends that is for sure, and I would most likely go to jail for assault on more than one occasion.  So I am going to share with you a few brief conversations my kids have had, and I am going to post it as if I were talking to someone else, just so that you can see how ridiculous kids are.  Mkay?

Scene: watching a show about planets on National Geographic
Me: I like Uranus
Friend: My anus
Me: No, Uranus.  I like it.
Friend: I like it too.
Me: No you can't like it, I already said I like it.  I like Uranus
Friend:  I like it too
Me: No!  IIIIIIIIII LIKE URANUS!!!!!  IIIIIIIIIII DO!!!  YOU DON"T LIKE IT, I LIKE IT!!
(pause for a beat)
Friend: I like my anus.....



Scene: listening to music in the car
Me:(singing)  I don't care.....I love it
Friend: I like that too, I don't care...........
Me: NOOOOO!!!!!  I AM SINGING!!!!!!!! 
(Friend looks at me and starts to cry)
Me: You can sing later, but not that song, you can sing another song.  That is my song.


Scene: Hanging out in the family room ( now this was between me and one of the kids)
Friend: Let's go have a snack, ok
Me: I want to finish my puzzle
Friend: Can we finish the puzzel after snack?  It is time to eat.
Me: NOOOO!!!!!  PUZZLE!!!!!!! I WANT THE PUZZLE!!!! 
Friend: Fine, then you won't have any ice cream then.  Because I was going to have ice cream.  You can have nothing.
Me: I WAAAAAANT ICE CREAM!!!!
Friend: Well let's go then
ME: I WAAAAANT PUZZLE!!!!!!!!


Scene: Hanging out in the family room
Me: (to everyone in the room) I am so beautiful in this dress!  I am just a precious thing aren't I?  I am just so precious in this dress you all want to look at me.


Scene: In the van
Friend: (singing) Christmas lights, christmas lights, I love christmas lights.....
Me:(Singing) C.L., C.L., C.L......
Friend: (singing) C.L, C.L., C.L
Me: You can't say that, you don't know what it means.
Friend: Yes I do.  C is for cake.
Me: Hahahaha!  No it doesn't, it stands for Christmas lights!!  Hahaha!  You can't sing it because you don't know what it means!
Friend: But C is for cake.  (singing) Cake cake cake.....
Me; (singing over friend, louder.  Much louder) C.L., C.L., C.L........!
Friend : CAKE....CAKE...CAKE........!

Scene: (hanging out in the family room yet again)
Me: (reciting chistmas list out loud to no one in particular )and I want play dishes, and play food, and books, and a tutu...
Friend: Are you done talking yet?  I want to talk.  You are taking too long, can I talk now?
Me:  NO!  I am not done talking!  You wait until I am done! (pauses and glares menacingly at friend)  and I want princess dresses....

So you see, kids are little jerks to each other.  How do these people make friends, and actually keep them?  If I were another kid, I wouldn't want to be friends with another kid, because they are just rude, self absorbed, little jerks.  But they manage to keep friends, and I just don't get it.  When do they grow out of acting this way?  Well, the more I think of it, I am not so sure EVERYONE grows out of it.....

I am complete hypocrite

I realized when I was yelling at my kids the other day that I am complete hypocrite.

I do almost everything that I tell them not to do.  Give or take the serious infractions (ie peeing in the tub, eating gum off of the floor, putting my feet in my mouth. You get the picture.)  But I realize that I do tell them to do one thing, and then turn right around and do another.

For example.
* I tell Your royal highness before bed that the next day he needs to clean up his room, it is a pig stye, and looks like a bomb went off in there.  I immediately walk into my bedroom after yelling at him, and throw my dirty clothes in a pile on the floor next to my bed, let a water bottle (it was closed!) drop onto the floor and not pick it up, and notice glasses of water  that are empty sitting on my dresser and leave them for the next day (which will still not get taken down).

*I also tell him daily to make his bed, and when I get up in the morning, do I make mine? I do not...

*The kids whine to me that they are hungry 15 minutes before dinner is ready.  I tell them, "you need to wait for dinner.  It isn't that far away."  I go into the kitchen and stuff an Oreo in my mouth while I finish making dinner.

*I scream at the kids to stop  screaming, and I then continue screaming about how rude it is to scream in the house.

*I tell the kids not to eat food off of the floor.  I drop a peice of chocolate, pick it up, blow on it, and pop it into my mouth. (you cannot let chocolate go to waste.  That is a sin.)

*I tell the kids "You get an hour and 30 minutes of TV time a day.  That is all!  No ifs, ands, or buts!"  and then after they go to bed watch 4 hours of DVR'd shows in a marathon to catch up on things I have missed.

*I tell the kids "No, you may not eat in the car. You will
drop crumbs everywhere.  We will be home in a few minutes, and you can have it then."  Then on my way home from Weight watchers I eat a small fry as fast as I can in the car on my way home, sprinkling salt all over my shirt, and seat. (To clarify, I do this because I do not eat dinner before I go, because I do not want the weight of my dinner displayed on the scale.  I also make sure I poop before I go, and wear shorts and a tank top that I strip down to under my jeans and sweatshirt in front of everyone because I do not want that weight  displayed on the scale either.  I totally would get naked if I could, but really, no one wants to see that.....)

*I tell your royal highness not to slam doors, throw things, or pound his fist when he is mad, then when the Admiral and I have an argument, I pound my fist on the table, throw a stuffed animal across the room, storm out of the door and slam it.

*I tell your royal highness that he needs to do his homework right away when he gets home to get it done and out of the way.  Then the moment I have something that needs done that has a deadline, I put it off until the last possible moment and then freak out and stay up all night to get it done.

*Your royal highness sees a spider in the bathroom.  I make him kill the spider, and then have a half an hour argument with him about why he needs to clean it up, citing that "you will have to do this when you grow up and are on your own."  Then when I see a spider in our bathroom, I get the Admiral to come and kill it, and clean it up.

I swear to you, I am not a mean mom.  I am not a d-bag who thinks I am above the laws I set at my house.  I just want my kids to be a better person that I am.  I want them to just automatically make their bed when they grow up.  I want them to not snack all of the time.  I want them to keep their car neater than I do, and to handle their anger in more constructive ways that I do.

But the great thing is.....I do all of these things out of their eye sight, so they have no idea how hypocratic I really really am!  So in their eyes, I really do all of these things that I tell them to do, cementing in their head my perfection.  I have to believe that all moms do this, and have been doing this for years and years and years.  Generations of moms eating treats out of the visual feild of their kids, and making their husbands kill spiders, and screaming for their kids to stop screaming.  I just have to believe it is so. Otherwise I AM a complete d-bag, and I need to rethink my life!!

The five o'clock freak out

When my oldest (Your royal highness) was little, the Admiral and I coined the phrase "5 o'clock freak out".

It seemed like every night, from the time he was an infant, at around 5 o'clock, he would stop whatever he was doing, be it sleeping, eating, playing, what have you, and just freak the freak out.  I do not mean in a fun, party kind of way.  I mean in a no holds barred, rage against the machine, I am dying and you are doing nothing to help me sort of freak out.  He would cry, inconsolable for about a good hour, and then be completely fine. 

We spoke to our doctor, and he said, all babies have a fussy time of the day.  He asked if this went on for hours at a time, to which we said, "no".  He smiled, and said "No colic then..."  and said, just hold on and it will pass.  Eventually he will grow out of it.

My pediatrician is a lying liar.

He most certainly did NOT grow out of it.  In fact, I believe when each of the babies were little, he sat

down with them individually and one by one taught them as if he were a jedi master, how to throw a good  5o'clock freak out.  Because I schmidt you not, they ALL DO IT!  Thumbelina, and Mini me do it, and so does little man.  And in a great turn of events they have extended if for an extra half hour, which has now made it into a 4:30 freak out, right on time for the parents of the kids I babysit for to pick them up. 

So daily, my poor parents come at 4:30 to pick up their precious-es and my kids are all fighting and screaming, and pulling toys out of each others hands, and the oldest is yelling at me from upstairs freaking out because he "doesn't get this homework!!  I need help!"  When I tell him "I have to deal with these insane little people down here in the playroom first and then I can help you with that."  I am met with "AHHH!!!  You don't care if I fail!  And I WILL fail mom!  I can't do this!  It is too hard!  I am going to fail and you don't care!" and I hear him wailing to his room and slamming the door.  To which I reply "Oh my god!  Drama! Calm down and I will be there in a minute!"  as I am pulling Little man off of the bookshelf, and grabbing Mini Me to release the toy that she just stole from, let's call her, additional kid #1, who is screaming "NOOOOOOO!!! MIIIIIIIINEE!!!!!!!" and letting her drag her across the floor, also while Thumbelina is screaming "MOOOOOOM!!" and I look over, thinking some terrible fate is about to befall her, only for her to innocently look at me and say "Watch what I can do"  as she walks on her tiptoes (which she ALREADY KNOWS HOW TO DO AND HAS BEEN ABLE TO DO FOR A YEAR!).  It takes my entire being not to say to her, "Wow Thumbelina, you are a genius!  I am so happy I stopped trying to save your friend from getting her arm pulled out of it's socket so that I could see you do that!  I am so proud." as sarcastically as I can.  But I don't.  I say "Great baby" and keep on keeping on, trying to diffuse the chaos, as they are all crying and wailing at the same time.

All of this is in the presence of the people who trust me and pay good money for me to raise their little ones into good citizens, and it looks like I am raising them to murder each other, and become kleptomaniacs, like my own kids!  And I swear to them daily, "They really have all been good today, I promise.  They just seem to freak out every day about this time.  We have had a great day..." and I proceed to list off all of the fun things we did, while the cacophony of noise is getting louder and louder.  I am crying out in my head, "I promise, my kids are usually so good!  They aren't d-bags, they are usually really sweet to each other, and really funny!  This is just the hour of the day that it all goes to hell! And if you were to be here at 6, you would see, they are not insane!  Really!"  My eyes plead with them, as the wailing of my oldest continues upstairs, and the world falls down around me in the playroom.

But I have no idea what they are thinking.  I assume they believe me since they bring them back every day. 

Unfortunately this tends to go on while I am making dinner.  I try to keep them all occupied at the table with coloring and playdoh.  But for some reason, this hour of the day, they just lose their mind and do things that they would never do at any other time.  For example, Mini me, just last night, took a blue marker, and covered her entire face with blue!  She never does that!  I snapped at her, "Mini me!  What do you think you are doing????!!!"  She just stared at me as if I were the crazy one and why wouldn't she color her entire face blue?  Silly mom.  And of course it wasn't washable Crayola, it was a dry erase marker for her letter board that WILL NOT WASH OFF!  She is still blue today.

Then we have dinner, and it is the same every night.  If you would like a synopsis of how dinner goes, please see my post "Every. Single. Night." 

And then the freak out is over.  We get down from the dinner table, and they play in the playroom quietly, calmly, and cooperatively.  Like it never even happened. 

Grow out of it my ass........