Thanks to a very long, very late editing assignment that fell far short of the 48-hour request for turnaround time (I officially had 13.4 hours to finish it... and get a night's sleep), my kids had a movie morning.
Well, really, they reinacted Lord of the Flies, right here in my living room.
I woke up early (which I don't do) to get a headstart on the comma splices, but the children were up early too... so much for that plan. Between fruit bars, raisin bran, diapers, pull-ups, more diapers, more pull-ups, and a little while of little boy nakedness because I didn't have time to run upstairs to get more diapers, I edited. And I edited.
I was held captive by the computer for a ridiculous amount of time, so I equipped the cherubs with very fun toys that are typically off limits (including many favorites from my kitchen utensils), some good fellowship with Mickey Mouse, and even some Christmas carols.
Mommy just had to work. (I don't know how moms work from home, truly. I can't do it well.)
I confess... I was stressed. I had a crazy deadline to meet, and I couldn't read or type fast enough. The very astuteq kids smelled an opportunity, and they took advantage of my inability to multitask indefinitely. I am not God, and they are well aware. I don't see it all, and they live it up when my back it turned.
The house was trashed. Words cannot describe. Video can, and I actually captured some, but only those with access to my cell phone library of 30-second videos have seen it. It was a madhouse.
But lo' and behold, 11:00 arrived. I was still editing. The children were not in their jammies, but they weren't dressed either. Tucker has preschool at 11:30. I was in my jammies, with only coffee in my stomach. Lots of it.
I'll just read this last paragraph before I send it off to the author...
It's 11:10. We gotta move.
I scrambled up the stairs to find Tyler unloading the drawers in his room, and Tucker was jumping on the bed inside the crib. Where do I even begin to repair such a scene??
I scooped up both boys, took them into Tucker's room for a community wardrobe change, and Tucker decided to begin the wiggly acrobat routine that ensues when he knows I'm trying to dress him in a hurry. Seriously, in a hurry.
Finally, I got impatient. I shouldn't say 'finally.' I had been impatient all morning. There was too much to do, too much to process, too much to correct (both in grammar and in character), and not enough time or energy to accomplish a single thing well.
As we battled, Tucker finally looked me square in the eye and said, "Mommy, be nice!"
My defenses shot into full alert. Mommy, be nice?? Me?? I was ready to talk to him about respecting mommy and what biblical submission looks like.
And then I realized... I wasn't being nice. I altered my course. Instead of submission, we talked about forgiveness.
Finally, I got both of them dressed, I tossed my jammies in a pile, threw on a sweater and jeans, gave my teeth a once over with the toothbrush, and sloshed on some mascara. We raced out the door, and I deposited Tuck at preschool. Hoenstly, I was more than a little thankful for the speech issues that would keep him from telling every detail of the morning to Miss Jill.
Parenting is a marathon, not a sprint. I've got time to make up for today. I'm banking on it.