Wednesday, October 27, 2010

At the end of the day

It's still dark when Tenzin yells from his room "I'm scared!" I look at the clock. 5:30.

"What are you scared of?" (long pause) "...Spiders" then I hear a smaller voice. "scared. spiders"

4 feet come running into our room. Myla jumps on top of me. Tenzin goes on the other side and complains that he doesn't have enough covers (even though when you cover him he will always immediately kick them all off) "I want to snuggle with Mama!" Tenzin nudges. "MY MAMA!" says Myla squeezing me. Tenzin tries to get closer and pulls some of my hair out with his elbow. "I'm hungry" Tenzin whines.

"Tenzin, it's still so early. Have a banana and we'll get up soon."

"I want eggs." with lots of wiggling and lots of whining, and a bare painful patch on my scalp I make peace with the fact that there is no more sleep to be had.

Breakfast is served and Myla screeches like perhaps there is a spider in her bowl. "Myla, what is it?"

"NO! I want tiny baby bowl!!" (Everything has to be "tiny" and "baby" right now. If it involves "kitty" it's even better.)

"Myla, that's the smallest bowl in the house, that IS the tiny baby bowl." (+ 10 minutes of crying)

Getting two kids out of the house in the morning is pure torture.

Making sure they don't look like ragga muffin urchins is almost impossible.

I have gotten really good at doing hair while running down the hall, although the pigtails are a little wabi sabi at times.

Getting kids dressed should be in the Olympics. Myla likes to throw a fit while I'm putting on her tights making the task of stuffing two chubby kicking legs into the twisty tight tubes even more of a challenge than it already is. They turn inside out, come off with the kicking, and then in a big kerfuffle she comes out looking pretty cute. Now she needs shoes... She wants to wear her pink fuzzy slippers or her sparkly pink princess shoes that I won't actually let her wear in public. How to convince her of these lovely sensible brown boots?

Meanwhile Tenzin has made it to the boxer brief stage, and is gloriously running around the living room and literally climbing the walls. (Rock walls. Brilliant idea...) More kerfuffle. Vitamins? Teeth brushed? Faces washed? Wait... did I eat breakfast?

I'll leave the middle of the day events for your imagination. Make sure to keep in mind dropping off, picking up, 3 loads of laundry, a triple batch of banana bread (with "help") sewing Halloween costumes and slippers, meals, snacks, crafts with kids and cleaning up after all of those activities....

Tai arrives to a seemingly calm household (oh little does he know.) Dinner actually goes off without a hitch. Tenzin announces that he has to go poop at the dinner table (which he has done on cue for 5 years running) and says "Myla, do you want to go poop too?"

"Yah, poop too!" Myla toddles down the hallway after him. Tai and I stare at each other like we just won the lottery. Oh my gosh, 5 minutes, maybe 7, we could have a whole conversation! We're 45 seconds into this blissful moment when I hear a scream. This was one of those serious screams that a mother panics about. I bolt down the hallway. It is so loud and high pitched and long that I was worried that Tenzin had seriously injured himself. Did he loose an extremity? Is there a giant scorpion? My mind raced with anything that could have possibly happened on the toilet in that 45 seconds. Once in the bathroom I couldn't see any blood. Just Tenzin standing up, his face bright red, tears streaming down, still screaming. "What is it Tenzin?!?" He can't talk, just scream.

"Tenzin, you have to tell me what it is so that I can help you."

"My yittle hat fell into the toilet" And there, in the toilet, was a little tiny viking helmet belonging to a little tiny toy that I have never even seen. Clearly this was an emergency. Next to that tiny helmet was a big poop. I quickly rescue this very important viking helmet, so that we could move on with the bath/book/bedtime kerfuffle that very much resembles the getting ready to go in the morning kerfuffle. Just trade tights for zip up jammies, and the car for beds and it's pretty much the same deal. Now there are two sweet little heads sleeping on two sweet little pillows. At the end of the day I sit here in a bed strewn with clothes that were once folded, but have since been turned into a launch pad. At the end of the day I remind myself that the days are long, but the years are short. Tomorrow may be quite similar to today, and somehow I look forward to it.