Thank God It's Monday!

Something you'd hear only from the mother of three small children - after a weekend of family portraits, a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese and miscellaneous other adventures.

I have long held this theory when it came to my Darling Daughters. I call it the Broken Glass Theory. It goes something like this - If one of them has a bucket of broken glass - to play with, eat or just hide in their room, the other MUST HAVE a bucket of broken glass. The earth stops on it's axis until BOTH have a bucket of broken glass. A rather unpleasant experience this weekend further proved my Broken Glass Theory.

Saturday morning I am in the process of changing a rather aromatic diaper - gratis brother - when I summon DD #2 to take the offensive discard to the outside garbage can. She walked into his room and her immediate response was akin to that of discovering mud at the park EEEUUUWWWW! So instead of pushing it, I summon DD #1 to assist in product disposal. DD#1 appears and gladly (or so it seems) proceeds to take the now bagged and tied diaper to the back door. I refocus on finishing the task at hand - putting brother back together.

I hear arguing - then fighting - then screaming and the unmistakable sound of a physical altercation. I put brother down, move toward the ever increasing melee and I am floored by what I discover. These two girls are FIGHTING OVER A DIRTY DIAPER!!!!!!! You can't make this stuff up. At this point, I resume control of the parcel and dispose of it myself. They continue their hysterics until I threaten their lives. Two minutes later they are onto something new.

When DH comes in from the garage - I tell him I need a bigger house. This one is painfully too small to raise these two girls in.

Shortly thereafter, we loaded up the three precious darlings and hauled them to a birthday party for a five year old neighbor at Chuck E. Cheese. Lessons learned -

#1 - 20 month old boys are scared of teenagers dressed as HUGE rats (AKA Chuck E. Cheese).

#2 - Invariably, no matter how normal and cool the neighbors seem they will ALWAYS be related to someone way more interesting than you ever imagined possible. In this case - it was my neighbors' sister, also the grandmother of the birthday boy. She was a living, breathing Harley Moma. Tats on the neck and around the navel. Long plaited ponytail and she could not have weighed more than 95 pounds soaking wet. Super nice and conversational - really enjoyed chatting her up during the party.

It wasn't until we were leaving that it truly occurred to me the life she leads. In the first parking space outside the door was the biggest shiniest Hog I had ever seen up close and personal. It had the leather fringes off the handle bars - like the ones that come on little girl's bikes. Blinding chrome. Wish I could tell you what kind it was - but I don't speak Harley...

DH almost tripped over his tongue when he saw it. Suddenly - the 'odd' grandmother he had politely avoided for the last hour and a half was his most favorite person in a three mile radius. I think he would have asked her out if the kids and I weren't right there with him.
Boys and their toys...

Found out last week that I would be heading to Atlanta for a few days for work. DH never likes it when I take these trips. So this time, when I tell him of the trip, I volunteer to phone up his mom to see if she will come and stay with him and kids for the two nights I am gone.

Of course, I forget to call and when quizzed on it later - I know immediately I am in trouble. So as to deflect the attention from my inefficiency, I counter attack with the only thing that comes to mind. Went something like this.

"Honey, All you have to do is bring them home, feed them, bath them and put them to bed for two days. How hard is that???"
"Well, it wears you out every day." His reply. And it's mostly true.
And then I said something I really shouldn't have - but am glad I did - considering the response. I ask
"What would you do if I died and you had to take care of these kids by yourself?" I demanded.
Without missing a beat or taking a breath, his response...
"Well I'd take a few weeks off from work first."

Obviously, he's thought about this.
Immediate end to the discussion.
I call my mother in law and she agrees to help out. BLESS HER!
Now I can look forward to room service, no diapers, complete ownership of the remote control and adult conversation for three days in a row.

So now it's Monday morning - one day to go till aforementioned trip and I couldn't be happier.