Friday, May 1, 2009

Why I Drink

I'm not positive, but I do believe there was a fairy flying through my house, creating all sorts of mischief. She was a beautiful little silvery wings and long, flowing dark hair. Her tinkling laugh was echoing throughout the kitchen as she zipped around, touching everything with her magic.

She turned me into a frog. She put Jaylond to sleep with a wave of her wand. She gently tickled the babies.

And then she smacked the older girl in the head with the wand.


Jaylond picked up the toddler in the Tinkerbell costume and instructed her not to hit her older sister, but instead send magical fireballs at her and destroy her instead. Why is it that even when my children are trying to stop violence...they still advocate it?

I was attempting to get dinner ready. Jaylond tried to occupy Irelynn...which always ends badly. Although he actually plays with her...more than the older girl will do...he always takes it too far. The next thing I hear is a loud bang...and Irelynn crying.

She had tried to slam the bathroom door closed after running in there to hide from her brother. He stopped it with his hand, sending it in the other direction...and into her face. I scooped up the bleeding fairy and tried to comfort her. I reiterated the house rules concerning running and slamming, and set the fairy free once more.

I thought things would get better once my husband got home. Not a chance. Jay was determined to call a radio station to get in a request. The older girl was determined to make noise in the background...causing him to yell...and general chaos ensued.

During dinner, the toddler was determined not to eat. Her fairy wings had been removed, but she was still causing mischief. I leaned in to feed Owen, and suddenly found rice raining down on me. Irelynn grinned. I remind her that we do not throw food at the table.

The older two try to start arguments. Over ridiculous things. Jaylond pulls a pencil from his pocket that he found at school to show Bruce. Irelynn pretends to pull one out of her Pull-Up. She finds something else in there, and informs me.

I sigh, inform Bruce, and ask if he'd mind taking care of this one...I'd already had my share of poopy messes that day. Big mistake.


"I need new pants?"

"I need new jeans now, yes."

"I sorry...."

"Stop being sorry and start going in the potty!! I have poop on my jeans now!"

After the toddler and the husband got changed, they returned to the table. Sort of.

The toddler has disappeared under the table. Suddenly we hear giggling.

"Daddy....Daddy...look at me!!"

She was crawling around under the table, amidst the droppings of rice and sauce-covered chicken.

Connor was crying. I took him out of his high chair and put him to bed. I sit back down and look over at my husband, who has opened a second beer.

Then I look over to see that Owen had grasped the curtain from the window with his sweet potato covered fingers...and was chewing on it. He grinned at me with his orange face.

My husband makes a comment about it probably not being good for his asthma...I'm thinking it's probably not too good for the curtains, either.

I look at the clock. Bruce smiles.

"'s not magically bedtime. Nope...not yet, either."

No, it's not. But I happen to notice that it is exactly beer-thirty.

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