Deep Breaths and Cheap Therapy

Last night was awesome. We had friends over for a birthday party for my friend. More on that later. Right now I am in time-out from my kids. Here is how it started:

Because of all the "fun" we had last night my kids were a mess. Sunburns, slivers, scratches, dry skin, and lots of sand in the scalp. This is problematic because Noelle has her dance dress rehearsal tonight, and although my kids may get away with looking homeless on most days, occasionally I decide we need to class things up a bit.

So I gave them the type of bath that mimics one that I read about as a teen, where this family got sent to Siberia and were only able to take baths once a year. I'm talking lots of lathering, mama monkey scalp prodding, and power-washing style rinses.

When the kids emerged Noelle still had Dandelion stains on her skin, and Jadon still had a sliver. (I kind of hoped it would fall out of his pruney feet).  Of course, there was plenty of physiological damage getting that thing out since it involved needles and sitting on him. What can I say. It needed to come out.

Both kids got all nails trimmed, hair done, and bodies completely greased up in my special homemade beeswax lotion. They still looked like Peter Pan raised them, but you know, maybe lost children after swimming in mermaid lagoon.

This whole ordeal involved lots of bribes and promises that in "five minutes" they could go and play. Finally, finally, we were done. I said they could play--with one instruction: "Do not get in the sandbox."

At this point the goal was to tackle the house, which saw more damage from the minutes I was helping Noelle spiffy up than the whole party last night. Jadon had emptied all the q-tips from the bathroom, turned over a folded basket of laundry, and rearranged my bathroom cupboards.

I was so involved in the clean-up I didn't notice the quiet.

I know, I know. He is three and I still don't always hear the silent dog-whistle warning signal.

I did hear Noelle's tears. I ran to the deck to find my pretty-little primped-up sweetie-pie dressed as an emery board. She had sand in her hair, in her ears, completely embedded in every cranny of her beeswax slathered body. Just so we are all clear--Jadon did it. (What? No gasps of surprise?)

Guess what? I don't have time to give her another bath. So she is going to her dance rehearsal as a lost boy. I also didn't have energy to get mad because THIS FOLKS is motherhood. A lovely everyday test in watching waves come crashing down on your sand-castle efforts to accomplish anything. Days like this are not atypical. The test, I guess isn't getting it all done. The test is making an effort and then not having a nervous breakdown when your kids show you over, and over, and over, how you love them despite their fierce allegiance to the second law of thermodynamics and all things increasing towards entropy and disorder.