I can smile about It now. A Little.

So, yesterday.

I was gathering things for a morning at the park, packing a picnic lunch and making one quick phone call. While I was on my cell for less than two minutes (honestly, no more), Tyler snatched a canister of oats from the pantry, poured them all over the living room carpet, and enticed Tucker to join him in the smear campaign.

Oats. Everywhere.

I am sorry to tell you: I became boisterously angry. I screamed. I stomped my feet. I showed maternal wrath they had never seen before. I put on quite a display.

But first, I took pictures. Because even in a rage, I know a good blog post when I see one.

They don't look particularly amused, do they?

That's because they are afraid for their lives and our family as they know it.

In this next picture, you can see the pervasiveness of it all... on the floor, in the carpet, on and in my coffee table. (And you may also notice the canister of chow mein noodles sitting on the coffee table. That was their next plan of attack, had I been on the phone for another 15 seconds.)

Oats are like confetti. It's nearly impossible to clean it all up.

Those teeny bits seem to multiply in the cleaning process.

Just for perspective, look at this picture.

We're not talking about a small pile; we're talking about lots and lots of Quaker's finest.

I felt like I was airing a commercial for our vacuum cleaner, as I swept it all away. 'And look! The Boss can scoop up cups and cups of oats, even mashed into thick carpet! And if you call now, we'll add a bottle of valium and a book on parenting. For just nine easy payments, this too can be yours."

We were a half hour late for our park play date, and when we finally arrived, I realized our menu for three consisted of an apple, a ZipLoc of Sunchips, and two rice cakes.

Sorry, guys. Hope you filled up on your brunch of dry oats while you had your chance. Mommy left the rest of your lunch at home with her remaining portions of patience and grace.

The boys ran themselves crazy at the park, which was the best thing for all of us. Tyler didn't even make it to the van before naptime hit.

And I didn't try to fight him on it. I let him fall asleep, and his brother followed suit shortly after I buckled him in his carseat. I carried them to their beds, and then I crashed into mine. Naptime all around. We all earned it, for very different reasons.

There is a deep, deep exhaustion that comes from such a day. And it lasts a long, long time.

If you'll excuse me... I have to go run my vacuum again.