Michaela: no accidents, but some skid marky undies
Maeve: 1 pooh in the potty, 2 in her pannies
Alasdair: 3, and one was a DOOZIE
Let's begin with 1 poopy Doodie diaper and 2 pantie poops from Maeve.
Then there's the flat tire. I walked out to my car with the little ones to go to the gym and had to drive straight to Les Schwab. Do not pass GO. Do not collect $200.
After I got that fixed we drove to the Y. There was no parking. Not one spot. Nada.
After 15 minutes I found a spot and got inside, but the Child Watch for Doodie was full. So I checked Maeve in and put D on the waiting list. For 45 minutes.
Finally I got in to the gym and slammed out my workout in 30 minutes, grabbed the kids and fled home.
Collect M from school.
Poop explosion from Doodie.
Swim lessons for Maeve.
Oh, and in between all this was the incessant bickering, fighting, screaming, jumping, running, crying and downright unruly-ness from my kids.
I was at the end of my rope. Seriously, I'm at a loss. I'm not sure where I lost control of my kids, but it has happened and I don't know how to get it back. My 7 year old is literally out of control, and the 3 year old just copies everything she does. Then the 2 year old picks up on all the finer points from the bigger two. Between picking up all their messes and breaking up fights and trying to ignore the screaming I can't seem to hold on to my sanity these days.
I think it's time to chant my mantra for a few hours: This, too, shall pass.
Tomorrow will be a better day.