The Tuesday Circus

I know I don't have to tell you that this day started with spilled juice, but in the interest of clarification, that is exactly where I will begin. So, the first thing that happened today was that Max spilled juice all over the inside and outside of the refrigerator, while trying to free it from it's chilly home inside said appliance. This, I realized, was my own fault for leaving the lid of the pitcher turned to the "pour" position when I put it in the fridge and for encouraging my children to be independent. So, I turned the lid (which is significant) and assisted in the clean up. That same child then proceeded to add milk to his cereal and slosh it all over the kitchen, as he made his way to his seat. Then, Weston entered the kitchen and made a beeline for the juice. He yanked the pitcher out of the fridge and began pouring. But, of course, nothing came out. So, instead of stopping to investigate, he just kept tipping the pitcher...until the lid just couldn't take the pressure and popped right off. The counter and lower shelves were doused, and multiple towels were tinted orange in the clean up process. Then, for reasons I can't even begin to understand, Weston decided to put semi-melted butter in his cereal, which, of course, made it taste disgusting. Which, in turn, caused Weston to attempt to sneak it into the trash when he thought I wasn't looking. Which then prompted me to declare him finished with breakfast and send him away from the table. Which sent him into a bawling fit (because, after all, he was in danger of starving to death, since he only got to have one bowl of cereal for breakfast, instead of two) that lasted an absurd amount of time and got him hand-delivered to his bedroom.

The rest of the morning actually went along fairly well, and was even somewhat productive. While I worked on laundry, the two oldest kids were given "special projects" to work on. Ruth was directed to the upstairs storage closet, with the incentive that, if we could get it cleaned up and organized, she could set up her new sewing machine in there and have a nice little sewing area all her own. That was motivation enough, and she eagerly set to work and had much to show for her efforts by lunchtime. Meanwhile, Weston worked out in the garage, transferring our Campmeeting linens from the oh-so-useless contractor bags they were stored in to some sturdy duffle bags and storage boxes.

After lunch, the action picked up again. As I may have mentioned in a previous post, Clay is obsessed with, well, everything that he shouldn't be. He is in to everything these days: cabinets, drawers, potties, shelves, trash cans, etc. He is especially enamored with the side table in the living room, where we keep the remotes, and where we often put our laptops and phones while they are charging. (Plus a variety of other things that just need a landing place). We have tried pushing everything as far back as possible, blocking the area off with ottomans, swatting his hand, redirecting him to another area and various other dissuading techniques. But, he is determined to get a hold of whatever lies on top of that particular table, which he can just reach by standing on his tippy-toes. It's maddening. So, today, I was sitting in my awesome zebra lounge chair near that table, working on some task or another on my laptop. Clay came over and started grabbing things like a maniac. I was trying to keep him at bay, while also trying to stay focused on the task at hand. Finally, he snagged something, and commanded my full attention. But, when I turned to reacquire whatever he had in his hand, my laptop slipped off my lap and hit the concrete floor with a sickening thud. Now, I'm no techie, but I do know that computers and concrete don't mix. And, that idea proved true when I recovered the laptop and found it rendered completely useless. And, this, after I was just telling Jeff that I might need to think about the possibility of getting new computer because mine was "being weird." (Yes, that's just the technical language I used.)

So it was with a knot in my stomach that I approached the next task before me: plantar wart removal from both Ruth's and Weston's feet. These kids run around barefoot all the time in the most unsanitary of conditions, so the fact that they had warts, while fairly revolting to me, was not surprising. Weston actually had seven or eight on the bottoms of his feet, and Ruth had two. I warned the kids that the stuff (again a technical term) would sting a little and then set to work. (I should tell you that the setting for this event was my bathroom, with both "patients" alternately sitting on the edge of and falling into the tub; Max hopping around, knocking decorations over; and Clay pulling things out of the drawers like his life depended on it.) Weston was to go first, according to the arrangement he and Ruth had made previously. He laughingly ouched his way through all seven applications of Freeze Away, and then it was Ruth's turn. She was almost in tears before I even touched her foot, and after one application, she ran from the room, bawling, and refused to allow me anywhere near her other wart. She cried for a ridiculous amount of time, and finally admitted to me that the reason she was crying was because she was so mad that Weston had gone through with it and she hadn't.

Not long after that, Jeff came home briefly--from a day of meetings in Austin--before heading out to another meeting in Marble Falls. He doctored my computer and got it somewhat functional, while I was trying to put together a lasagna and we were chatting about our days.  I was so distracted that I left out a layer of noodles and all of the mozzarella cheese (except for the very thick layer on top, once I realized my mistake). Fortunately, it's hard to ruin lasagna, and the kids all said it was delicious. (I haven't had any yet because I'm hoping to have a romantic relatively quiet, at-home date with my Sweetie when he gets in from his meeting). Since I wasn't eating dinner, I wasn't sitting at the table, and at one point the kids got up a rousing game of musical chairs, while I was out of the room. And, now, having finished dinner, I believe they are out rustling cattle on their bikes. If you think my life is boring, people, you are completely wrong. Your household runs at this level of insanity, too, right?! I'd love to hear some of your stories, so don't be afraid of that little comment button at the bottom of the post. I need to know I'm not alone here.