One of those days

Today was one of those days that I can't believe we are all alive and relatively sane by the time bedtime rolled around.  At two o'clock this afternoon I was certain that by dinner time the kids would be in protective custody and I'd have taken up drinking.

The boys were sick all week, and I think the strain of being cooped up in the house together for days on end was the reason behind the total mayhem that was today.  I knew they were starting to feel better when they tried to kill each other first thing this morning.   The first sign of trouble was a small argument over who got to lay next to me in bed this morning at 7 a.m. the end result was the sound of Mitch's body thumping to the floor, followed closely by the sound of his indignant wail and Jack's snicker of delight.  Things escalated quickly into fist fights over who got the lion cup for their chocolate milk and then an all out death match when Jack's cereal was spilled on the floor and smashed into the carpet by Mitch on his tricycle.

More than once during the interminable day I heard myself screaming in a voice eerily like Brian Johnson that "if you boys don't stop hitting each other, I will spank you!" or my personal favorite: "Be kind or I will beat you!"  What??  I open my mouth to be the voice of reason, and this is what comes out?  Good thing I was talking to a 3 and 4 year old, otherwise I would've felt like an idiot.  As it was, they both looked at me like I had just grown another head and tried to sell them a timeshare in Kansas.  In fact, they were so unified in their aversion to me that they bonded together for safety, and for whole moments forgot to torture, maim and kill each other.

As I write this, I'm watching the little darlings attempt to make a liar out of me by sitting together like cherubs, heads together over a coloring book, sharing crayons and giggles.  They are beautiful in their love for each other, and my love for them is all encompassing.  Just as my heart begins to thaw a bit and I start to feel guilty for all the yelling and spanking that went into the making of today, Jack digs his elbow into Mitch's side and Mitch retaliates with a straight jab to Jack's eye and they both start screaming.  And I'm back to the cold hearted harridan.    

Ruler of the Household

We recently found out that our upcoming bundle of joy is going to be a boy.  That makes a total of three boys for the Everett family, which constitutes renaming us as a gang by old west standards.  Depending on the boys' deeds in the next fews years, we may even graduate to posse.  There's already been some practice runs for a prison break.

We've decided on the name Henry for our newest member, and when I looked up the meaning of the name I groaned out loud.  It's a german name that means 'ruler of the household'.  Just great.  I guess we have the leader of our gang now.  Actually, I was thinking about it this afternoon and I believe we nailed the name of our youngest.   Little Henry is already controlling things around here; when we eat, what we eat and even how we eat it.  The little dictator decides if the house gets cleaned, if the boys get a bath every night and if I make it to the post office this week or next.  I've pretty much lost all control over my own household, because I'm pregnant with an incredibly strong willed tiny outlaw.

We (Jordan and I) decided to get a pizza for lunch, but Hank had other ideas.  I didn't even realize that I wasn't going to be joining my family for lunch until I heard myself yelling at the speaker in the drive thru of McDonald's that I wanted a southwestern chicken salad.  One minute I was in control, the next I was on autopilot while that scamp made his own choices.  He was right, though.  It was perfect and I ate every bite.

The way I see life in the Everett house unfolding is that Henry will be the instigator, Mitch will be the willing guinea pig and Jack will be the one to fine-tune the details while Jordan and I desperately try to keep them all alive and out of jail.  Sounds fun, doesn't it?