Wednesday, August 10, 2011

How To Be Organized With Small Children

Wake up to 19 month old smashing glasses onto face. Groan.

Try to convice him to nurse back to sleep. Fail. Get up. Slog to kitchen.

Enter 4 year old. She demands breakfast. Half-heartedly inform her that's not how you like to be asked.

Make breakfast. Potty break. Change son diaper. Stare at wall while daughter painstakingly chooses outfit. Notice pile of laundry. Think about doing laundry. Proceed back to kitchen.

Make your own breakfast. Watch children eat your breakfast. Look at clock. Realize, oh. Speech therapy! Car keys, where???

Launch full-scale investigation. Berate 4 year old for losing keys. Beg 4 year old to remember location of keys. Implore. Cajole. Make wild promises of parades and Disneyworld. Stomp around. Glower at 19 month old who surely had a hand in missing keys. Pack diaper bag. Hope of finding keys soon fading.

Flash of brilliance. Use old, Volvo wagon to go to speech therapy. Check clock. 10:30 am. Un-install and then re-install two carseats and get coffee before 11 am appointment? Also, get dressed, brush teeth? Easy game.

Sweat a lot. Car seats complete. Mental note: do not lock front door. No house keys. Just Volvo key. REMEMBER.

Leave for speech 10:50 am. Speed. No coffee. Need coffee. Flaggers on road. Must.not.hit.flaggers.

Drop Gianna at speech. Pretend to school secretary that much thought has been given to role of Parent Group President. Go find coffee. And a cookie. Deserve cookie. Much better. Day is still salvageable.

Retrieve Gianna. Begin drive home. Children grouchy, need nap and lunch. More coffee? Must clean bathroom before friends arrive.

Sickening realization. Def locked front door yuh idiut. Rest of drive home passes in angst, fervent prayers....

Home. Doors locked. Encourage children to play in dirty rainwater-filled baby pool. Look for another way in.

Curse wild imagination that caused you to lock down house like Fort Knox previous night while husband was working late.

Notice across the street the neighbors are having some sort of emergency. Fire truck.  Police. Wonder. Is it wrong to co-opt their emergecy and ask for help to break into house??

All shame gone. Cross street, beg for strong firewoman (fireperson?) to break down door. Rebuffed. Treated as pariah for not owning own cell phone. Children will not stop talking, insist on being fed.

Descend on friend's house, make large mess; ravioli. Email husband, who will be working until 11:30pm. Arrange to pick up keys at 6pm.

End of day, son is left wearing disposable diaper and nothing else. Daughter wishes to stay at friend's house interminably. Profusely thank friend for her patience and wonderful hospitality.

Home. PJs, brush teeth, bedtime stories, prayers. Children asleep. Gloat over what lovely, peaceful children you have. Still no keys. Rum and throwback Pepsi. Resolve tomorrow to get more organized.


  1. I love you Anne! Tomorrow will be better :)

  2. we are sooooo much alike. this sounds like my life last year, which is part of (ok, MOST of) the reason I homeschool. I hate getting 4 kids dressed and out the door early. there, I admitted it.

  3. DUDE! This is almost exactly like what I wrote in my blog last night! Being a mom makes for some insane days.

  4. the ravioli was totally worth it though