Manic Monday

It's just another manic Monday (oh, oh...)

Come on, you know you want to sing along...and if you're my SIL, Judy, you probably are. :) (I still think you should audition for "Don't Forget the Lyrics"!) And if you don't know that song by The Bangles, don't tell me. I don't need to know I'm THAT old...for just being 30 something...

So...as the title suggests...we had another anything-but-mundane Monday here in the Cary household. Off and on thunderstorms brought just enough atmospheric pressure to encourage a weather system of its own in my head. Ugh...headaches. But not migraines, so yea me! I scurried around the house today trying to bring order to the chaos that mysteriously lingers from the weekend...regarless of whether or not we had wild parties and crowds of people over...the house always ends up looking like this every Monday morning. I think my two kids could imitate the path of destruction a tornado leaves behind on their own in about 2 minutes. I'm sure all you moms could agree.

I have to say, I was for the most part quite industrious. Kids- fed and dressed? Check. Beds got made? Check. Teeth brushed, and Emerson got to chew on his "Tth" (that's his word for anything having to do with brushing teeth), check. Laundry started, check. OK...things are going well! And just as I was thinking I was going to survive this afternoon without much drama, a series of events occured that caught me teetering between laughing, crying, and just completely blowing my top. So, that's what this post is about. I hope you enjoy.

Anyway...I was busy as a bee and feeling pretty productive so I thought, A little break? Sure... I get on-line and check in with e-mail, make a few phone calls and all of a sudden, time fast forwards and the kids are up from their afternoon nap! Already?!? OK...no need to panic. Let's let the little darlings play together...that will get me a few more minutes to finish THIS and THAT and get started on THOSE over there...And in the middle of my multitasking and semi-freaking out, I hear a wail from the hallway, where the kids were "playing". It's Emerson.

"Olivia?!", I call out. "What did you do?!"

"Nuuuhhhhtthiiiinnnng!"

"Olivia...why is your brother crying?"

"Uuuummmm, I stomped his foot."

"Olivia...go to the bathroom."

"WAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!" Stomp, stomp, stomp. "WAAAHHHAAHHH!" Shriek, shriek..."Ahhooo, hoo, hoo..."

"Olivia, that was not the right way to walk to the bathroom. Let's try it again. Go out by the stairs and let's do it again."

And she miraculously calmed down, went quietly to the stairs...and then stayed there. So, I turned around and looked...to see what was taking so long...and there she was, standing by her newest art exhibit that I completely missed in the drama of the foot stomping. Here it is:

It's a faint picture that doesn't quite capture it's grandeur...I'll have to try to get a better one to upload onto our web albums in a collection I will call "Olivia's Creative Outlets". But, I digress...

This was the moment I was talking about earlier, the apex poised atop three emotions that I could not allow her to see me succumb to. I had to put my face in my hands to hide the expression...and to help me gain my balance as the room began spinning. I was able to muster enough self control to calmly instruct her, "Olivia, go to the bathroom."

This time she skipped.

Of course, when I got to the chamber of training and discipline, our favorite of "wisdom workers" was nowhere to be found. Sometimes our clever daughter will hide such a device, but I thought to check the other bathroom first before accusing her of that crime. As I was turning to walk out of our bathroom, I noticed my son, crouched in the corner behind our bookshelf, busily entertaining himself with a forbidden treasure trove of new toys...our basket of OTCs that he found hidden away.

"Emerson! Give me that!" I snatch away the Excedrin Migraine, make a mental note to take a couple ASAP, and exchange it for a little bottle of lotion. There...that's better.

Upon returning from the other bathroom, "wisdom worker" in hand, I notice that my wily son had gotten back the bottle of Excedrin. (No I didn't put it high enough.) I take it back from him and place it on a high dresser and pick him up. He begins gleefully assaulting me with the sample lotion bottle I gave him earlier. I open our bathroom door to tell our daughter I will be right back to talk with her, while attempting to block my son's attacks.

"Emerson, no hit Momma." I take the lotion, put him down, look over to Olivia to address her and see that she had picked up some reading material...and for those of you who attend a SGM church, it was one of those Resources for Changing Lives. The little paperback pamphlet book was entitled "Anger". Well, how apropos. She coincidentally had a tiny smirk on her face...if only she knew how cheeky she was being.

In the end, she was thoroughly instructed on what is and isn't considered an art canvas in Mommy's house. "We don't draw on Mommy's walls...or her mirrors...or her furniture...or her floors...only on paper." She repeated all that...we'll see if it sticks this time. At least NOW I know for sure that we have discussed this topic and she should know better.

As for Mondays, we'll see if we can't cultivate a more serene, orderly environment for next week...we're shooting for a "Mellow", not "Manic".