If you come to visit us you might be confused.
You might also be run over…
We move quickly sometimes…
to get not very much done.
“Can we stop running back and forth for just five minutes?” I bellow at the little feet that zoom past me from room to room.
“We are going to be late. Time to brush our teeth.”
Zoom go the feet.
“Let’s brush our teeth!” I call out to the air as I zip up the just packed lunchbox.
“Stop! Red light! I need teeth brushing to happen right now.”
My eldest sighs and then scurries to the bathroom, where upon crossing the threshold he begins to move in slow motion like extra thick honey. He slowly gets his toothbrush out and pauses every five second to touch, spin, or pick up every object in the bathroom. Then he stands and stares in the mirror…
while pulling his tongue out as far as he can.
The littlest has run away with the spatula. I will later find it in my bathroom wastebasket.
Ten minutes later I am helping my preschooler brush his teeth because he got caught up examining his tongue, brushing JT’s teeth, and helping Zairah who fell in the toilet. The littlest unravels all the toilet paper while we brush molars.
Fifteen minutes after that we are struggling into shoes by the front door. The littlest takes one off as I put one one… and off… and on. The preschooler announces that the Speckalow Dragon is coming and we should run. Our “no shoes on the carpet” rule keeps us from going very far, so they run around in small circles by the front door as I scoop up keys, coffee, lunchboxes, and sippy cups.
I trip over a dog and pull toilet paper out of another dogs mouth. The second dog has something around her neck. I sigh as I lift a pair of my underwear off her head. The panty stealer and TP eater licks my hand in apology. Unable to cross the carpet to the bedroom with my shoes on, I toss the underwear on the kitchen counter to be dealt with later. I narrowly escape the claws of the Speckalow.
I decide at the last minute I need a jacket and quickly open the front closet. My jacket is not there. I do, however, find a hat… and a sauce pot. Jackets are dumb anyway, so I open the front door and the little people run like puppies out of the gate.
My oldest counts “1, 2, 3, 4, 5” as everyone gets in the car.
He also screams “STOP!” when I begin backing the car out.
“Oh my gosh – WHAT?” I ask, as I clutch my heart and slam on the brakes.
He informs me that JT doesn’t have his safety belt buckled and it’s his job as the oldest to make sure everyone is safe. He climbs out of his booster and checks JT’s belt. Turns out he was buckled after all. He checks Zairah’s, and the baby’s too just to be sure. He tries to be very helpful… when he’s not trying to be a kitty.
It’s a good thing the Speckalow didn’t follow us out to the car.
Ten minutes later we are piling out of the van. My one year old only has one shoe again, so with him on my hip, I instruct everyone else to follow me like little ducklings.
There is quacking.
There is flapping.
There is making it inside the school only one minute late.
If you come to visit, it’s best if you just sit still while we spin around you trying to make it out the door – with the exception of ducking from flying dragons, of course.
Pay no attention to the strainer under your couch cushion, or the frying pan on top of the toilet.
Don’t worry, it’s not snowing in our house – it’s itty bitty pieces of toilet paper, courtesy of one of the dogs (the one with the panty babushka). This will not stop the children from trying to make a snowman out of it.
If you feel a little confused, that’s okay… just roll with it and surrender to the idea that you have absolutely no control.
Enjoy the whimsical chaos of our normal.
It’ll be fun.
PS – You should know that JT and Zairah are imaginary, although just as messy as real kids. The littlest one year old is real… and reckless. Also, Speckalow Dragons don’t really fly around in our house – their wings would knock over every lamp we own.