Just a {little} sample

Today, Allen stayed home with Will and Jon who were napping while I went to pick up Ben and Maddie. Just before Allen left for work, I asked him to wake Will up while I read Brown Bear to Maddie and Ben. Before I finished the story, Allen was screaming at the top of his lungs for me to get up there quickly.

Backing up the story just a bit . . . About two weeks ago, Will brought home the info sheet and permission slip to go on a class trip to an inflatable gym. I usually get the slips back the next school day, but with this one, I stalled. . . as long as I could. First of all, it was the first one I wouldn't be going with him, and secondly, it was the first time I had to sign a slip saying blah-blah-blah we wouldn't hold the facility or the preschool liable if he died or became paralyzed yada-yada-yada. Seriously? My kid was supposed to go on a trip to a place that had to have a disclaimer that he'd be lucky to make it out alive. . . they didn't even make me sign that when they sent all these kids home from the hospital with me.

Today, I dropped off Will and his carseat and hesitantly-signed permission slip, dropped off Maddie and Ben at Mothers day out, then took Jon for some bloodwork (not to worry -- it was a routine check they did at his well-kid check-up, but his blood clotted in the sample so they needed to do it over.) Jon and I ran some errands then went home to get Allen to figure out the rest of the day. When we got home, Allen said Will's teacher just called. Evidently, Will tripped on a basketball, fell, and smacked his head on the concrete floor. He cried but calmed down and played with the other kids for about 30 minutes then sat down and didn't move. . . not even when it was lunch time. Will rarely passes up fun, friends, or food, so his teacher called us. We changed our plans a bit and went to get him. After lunch, Allen stayed with Jon and Will, and I went to get the other two. Flash forward. . .

When I heard Allen yell for me, I was terrified that he hadn't been able to wake Will. I raced up the stairs leaving flames where my feet flew. I rounded the staircase and whizzed through the playroom and was a bit confused that Allen was changing Jon's diaper instead of calling 911. Then Will walked out and I realized he was okay. So why was Allen screaming? Jon had eaten a tube of Desitin diaper ointment . . . and emptied TWO sealed bags of wipes, thereby beating all previous records for the number of wipes scattered about the room. My first reaction? How did he get those bags open that I can never open myself? My second one? $#%&@ I'm sick of this mess! My third (or so) reaction? At least the kid who ate the cream is the one we can make puke easily. Allen, as calm and sensible as he is, reminded me that the tube said call poison control, not induce vomiting. So, amidst the cries of Maddie and Ben (since I had abruptly quit reading Brown Bear at the green frog), I plugged one ear and listened to the sweet lady at the Texas Poison control center explain that Desitin "is not actually a very toxic substance" so that part would be okay. She did warn me that the more he ate, the worse the mess will be when it comes out the other end. My thought: someone should invent an edible diaper cream that applies itself at the end.

Allen was a little bit flustered that Jon pulled one over on him. I explained to Allen that was just a little sample of what the last week and a half has been like, and that usually there are three kids in that room wreaking havoc. What he experienced was tooth-picked horse-doovers compared to the normal five-course feasts I've gotten to enjoy this week. I think he laughed, but I've conveniently blocked out the rest that would've made me jealous that he gets to go away to work.

In the last THREE days, I have picked up four emptied packages of wipes, a big bag of dumped diapers three times, two destroyed rolls of duct tape, and a crate of off-season clothes. Additionally, I have laundered toddler sheets, blankets, and pillows every day because they are stripping themselves and peeing everywhere. When I duct tape the diapers, Ben and Jon are so proud to have figured out how to peel the tape away to escape. Twice I have had to lay out all the components of my glider chair to dry because the toddlers would get a "sip" of water then go spit it on the chair . . . soaking it before I even realized what they were doing. In the meantime, I've had nine drawers emptied continuously, and one of those times, a dresser actually crashed to the floor. Yes, we need to attach it to the wall -- it was the one we push in front of the closet so they don't get into it also. This morning, Jon disappeared for a bit too long, and I found him in the upstairs bathroom with a tube of red toothpaste and Will's toothbrush. He had gotten to the tape and had wrapped it around himself twice, but didn't get the end cut. The dispenser was behind him stretching a few feet of clear tape. Wherever he walked, the tape picked up items. When I found him he looked like a slug with a slime trail that at caught a comb, a few toys, and plenty of pet hair.

Yesterday, I decided we weren't having quite enough chaos, so I got out paints, paper, pans, and marbles for the kids get creative. I was crazy enough to take pictures while doing my best to keep the kids from redecorating the kitchen and living room. I'm glad I was snapping shots, because there are a few that perfectly capture Ben's personality. I'll just let the pictures tell the story. . .

Here's Will:

Now, Jon:

Maddie:And, dear, sweet, mess-loving, grubby-fingered, blue-lipped, purple-tongued, green-haired Ben:

The end results were several beautiful (to a mama) one-of-a-kind creations we sent to their great- and great-great-grandmas for mother's day.

There was one important lesson I learned in this activity: when I sent four kids with painted fingers to the kitchen sink to wash hands, it only took 10 seconds to get them there, but they've some how managed to rush through a dining area, living room, bathroom, two hallways, and the kitchen in that flash of time. Lucky for me, all the handprints washed off the walls and floors, but I think I'll just carry a bucket of water to the craft table to clean hands next time. . . .And why can't they move that fast when I say it's bedtime???