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Three Short Hours

5:45 — Trips are up. Jack is still asleep. Consider waking him up just so we can all suffer together.

6:00 — Potty time finished and new pull-ups on. Sam and Tom immediately pee themselves.

6:15 — Breakfast on the table. Two Apple Jacks and One Cheerios. Still no sign of Jack.

6:45 — Jack shows up and demands sausage biscuits instead of cereal (@#$%!!! I know where this will lead).

6:48 — Trips see Jack’s sausage biscuits and each want one of their own despite the fact that 1) they’ve just eaten cereal and 2) they all hate sausage biscuits.

6:50 — Prepare more sausage biscuits and distribute to Sam, Tom and Will only to be told immediately, “I don-wike-it, mommy.”

7:00 — After suitable waiting period in which no food is consumed, throw uneaten sausage biscuits in garbage.

7:15 — Enjoying the cartoon hour by catching up on e-mail, blog comments (I LOVE blog comments).

7:16 — Will re-enters the room sans pants. Notice both he and Sam are soaking wet, and there is a tell tale sign of poop lingering on Will’s bum.

7:16 – 7:30 — Retrace their path. Find pooled water around bathroom sink and dog’s water bowl. Cannot locate dirty pull-up but am assured through limited vocabulary and expansive sign language that said pull-up is now in the garbage and it’s contents flushed down the toilet. Clean up of Will, Sam and bathroom floor complete.

7:30 to 7:45 — Mommy breakfast. Warm SlimFast. Mmmmm. (*gag*) And more cartoons.

7:45 to 8:00 — Outfits assembled for all four boys. Underwear donned. Socks and shoes distributed.

8:00 — Just finishing dressing the last boy in line when Sam shoves a crumpled paper towel under my nose, narrowly missing my face. Inside?–a turd.

8:00 to 8:20 — Hysterical screaming. Fruitless demands to be apprised of any further hidden turd locations. Current turd placed in garbage and all garbage removed to outside cans as a precaution.

8:25 — Notice Sam is eating a sausage biscuit. Weren’t all the sausage biscuits in the garbage with the turd?

8:25 to 8:28 — Hysterical screaming, followed by discovery that Sam actually hid his sausage biscuit ration in the kitchen, and so it’s probably o.k. to let him finish it.

8:29 — Realize I need to use the bathroom. Determine that there is no way I’m leaving these crazies unguarded so plan to put it off as long as possible.

8:35 — Decide wetting own pants a possibility. Opt to risk a bathroom break. Warn Sam not to feed the dog the rest of his sausage biscuit.

8:35:30 — Jack barges into the bathroom to inform me the dog has just thrown up. Guess why.

8:36 to 8:45 — Hysterical screaming.

9:00 — School Dropoff. I shed tears of pure joy as I drive away. Realize it’s only 4 hours until pickup. Progress to uncontrollable weeping, then head home to spend two of those precious hours disinfecting the entire first floor of my house.

Isn’t it 5:00 SOMEWHERE????

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5 Responses

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  1. bells says

    Seriously, come hide out at my house for a morning. Oh wait, I’m too far away. Sigh.

    Can you please tell me what a sausage biscuit is? I’m aware that biscuits for you are not what they are for me but I’m still struggling to figure this out. And Im’ hungry.

  2. Amanda says

    Jodi I think I may need a pull up after reading that. TOO FUNNY!!! At least when he gave you the napkin he didn’t say “Mommy I made you a present.”

    Bells there is nothing like a good southern sausage biscuit. MMMMM good. The problem is to many and you become a pig.

  3. Kristin Hodges says

    Jodi, laughed so hard.
    almost popped a stitch!!

  4. Tamara says

    Oh how I miss you!!!! Bring on the craziness when we see you in Sept. I’m trying to hold Sophia’s potty training off until all our travels are over with and we are “in” for our Winter hibernation! Your boys are hilarious!

  5. Loralee Choate says

    I had to come by and check out your blog after your husband’s thoughtful comment on my husband’s guest post about his conservative view of health care reform. (Us bloggity loving wives have to stick together. ;P)

    This made me chuckle…especially ‘Hysterical screaming”. Heh.

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