It’s Monday morning and I need to put the trash out by the road for pick-up. Oh, but first, a cup of coffee. Get coffee made. Mark is up, crying for mom. Hug and cuddle him, read a book, read two, read three. “Want o’s!” “say please”. “PLEASE want o’s!” Get o’s for mark. Find coffee cup on counter. A little cold. I put it in microwave. I see the trash can, oh, I have to get that out. Luke is awake, asking for mama. I cuddle him, and give him o’s.
Where’s my coffee? Uh-oh, mark spills, go to the pantry for papertowel, put towels in dryer, why am I in here? “I pill Mama! Towel please!” Grab papertowel. Luke has gotten into the grapes (Did I wash those yet? I hope so.) Mark “helps” and dumps rest of o’s and milk on floor. “oops mama!” I got it. Sweep up the grapes. Dump in trash, oh, I have to get trash to the road. I hear “no no no, mama!” Where is mark? Wasn’t he eating grapes? Oh, that’s luke, he’s still eating grapes. Mark is upstairs, waking up Tim. It doesn’t sound good, so I race upstairs, and remove Mark. “Help cars, mom.” We start to pick up the matchbox cars in the hallway. Something doesn’t smell right. I investigate. Someone used the little potty in the night, so I bring that downstairs to empty it. Get that done. I get out the crock pot for dinner and start that. Oh, the trash.. “Mama, I go potty, please come.” O.k., help Lukey go potty. Start to put away bath toys from last night. “mama! I stuck!” I race upstairs. Mark has his pajama shirt on like a backpack. I help him, and turn off fans and quick make Sarah’s bed for her. Wait, where is Sarah? She must be sleeping in my bed. I go to the hallway and trip on the matchbox cars. Ouch, didn’t we pick those up?
Where is my coffee? Back downstairs. Dishwasher is open and I start unloading. I vaguely wonder who opened it and where is the silverware? What time is it? Oh, yikes. We gotta get busy. Don’t forget the trash. Start to clean up boys’ breakfast stuff. Find grapes in the cookie jar, mashed against the inside…how do they do that? Mark is crying. “brother won’t share,” I take the time to point out the mutual benefits and fun involved in taking turns and sharing. I explain the negative consequences of their failure to share. I will OWN the toy. Ok. Tim is awake and eating. Where is Sarah? Oh, that’s right. I send Luke to wake her up.
Where is my coffee? Tim is calling me from upstairs. “coming” Up I go. Sarah is awake, a little bleary, but awake. Tim wants to play marbles in my room, without Luke. Luke is not happy. I carefully explain that given his age and level of responsibility, marbles is not the best option for him. I remove him from the situation and decide to get him dressed. Mark is in the bedroom. He has dumped out the blocks and is carefully attempting to throw them into the trash can, which is on the dresser, out of reach. I politely ask him to stop and state he is going to get dressed now. I notice many of the blocks are missing. As I open the dresser drawer to get clothing, I hear about 243 blocks fall behind the dresser. Hmm… guess we won’t be playing with those for awhile. I get Mark dressed but I have lost Lucas. I take his clothes with me downstairs. I find the silverware in a nice pile at the bottom of the steps. Nice. I pick that up. I vow to at least rinse them off…later.
I vaguely remember my coffee. Lucas, no longer sad about the marbles, has found new interests. The kitchen floor is covered with o’s. (I thought I put those away). I broom those up, realizing I am now using ‘broom’ as a verb due to the twosome’s influence. I let Lucas have a turn to “broom”. Sarah has wandered down and is insisting on her breakfast and her bathrobe. She starts crying because o’s are stuck to the bottom of her feet. The day continues…
Mark is looking out the window…”Truck, mama, big truck”. Yes, truck, I vaguely reply..as I try to read some important insurance papers..”Trash truck..” Yes, trash-TRASH? I bolt out the door barefoot and drag the trash down as fast as I can, waving like a mad woman. Oh, good, he’s waving back. He saw me. Whew! Made it.
I go inside and realize I am still in my bathrobe. I have not brushed my hair. Where are my insurance papers? I begin to search, but not for the papers, I want the coffee.
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