A Revelation

I watched Evie, my nearly 2-year-old nice, for my sister yesterday. Let me start by saying that Juni and Evie are absolutely awesome together. Evie trots after Juni all day while he protects her like a mother goose. It's wonderfully adorable. Here's how I have a new-found respect for multiple-children families, and came to my newest revelation...

Evie showed up at 9 a.m. We had a playdate at the park at noon. Somehow I'd managed to NOT get dressed, brush my hair, or my teeth. And Juni was still in sleepy pants. No biggie, you'd think. And just like me, you'd be wrong.
I  began brushing my teeth, and heard the Lego tub being dumped onto the floor in my bedroom. Beautiful. Every three seconds Evie toddled into my bathroom, asking "Oh No! Where's Mommy?" So every time I'd answer "She's riding her horse, Evie. But Aunt Frances is here, and we're going to have fun today. Once I get dressed, we're going to the park!"
After 30 minutes of this routine, she just started calling me mommy. Which made Juni jealous. And remind her that her mommy wasn't here. In which case she responded by saying "Oh No! Where's Mommy?" And stick out her adorable bottom lip in a false-pout.
It took me close to an hour to get dressed, between Jasen calling 3 times to see how things were going...and asking me to haul two kids to Home Depot to look at a new fridge. Excellent.
Juni knows he has to pick up his toys in my room before we leave for the day. And at least create a path in his room so I don't bust my butt over a tractor.
Juni was so proud of how he and Evie cleaned his room. But apparently, Evie wasn't finished yet. And Juni was. So two minutes later, I'm finally putting on clothes and Juni says "Mommy! I did it! I cleaned my room, and Evie can't get in!" I reply "How'd you do that, buddy?" Juni says "I locked the door and closed it!" and so I ask "Ummm...Evie's not in there, is she?" Thank God the answer was no.
But...crap...I have no idea how to get into his room. And Juni realizes this, begins crying and asking about his clothes, his toys, and how long the fish can live without food. If Juni cries, Evie cries. So I know have two crying children. So I explain that Daddy with find a way in, and that we have to to clean up and get the heck out of the house, or we'll miss our playdate at the park. Because now, we don't just have to get lunch a go...we have to make a decision about an over-priced refrigerator we don't need, but Jasen wants because he doesn't like our ice maker anymore.
I go into the bathroom to turn off the light just as Evie flushes the toilet...full of, legos? Maybe. Toilet paper? Definitely. The water is threatening to pour over the side and soak the floor. Excellent. But it's also something that will have to wait...at this point, we're definitely running late.
So I get the kids downstairs, stuff all of their crap into bags...and Juni alerts me that Evie stinks. Bad. Of course she does! So I hold my breath and gag while Juni laughs. Fun times.
NOW I'm ready to go. Except that Juni wants to bring his bike to the park, because his friend Landon is bringing his bike. Which means I have to figure out how to reattach his training wheels, because there is no way in hell i can run after him and carry Evie at the same time. With tools I don't understand, two dogs hovering over me, and a toddler who doesn't like my two dogs, I'm trying to rig this bike so that my kid doesn't end up in the emergency room this afternoon.
I get the wheels half-ass on. Luckily I circle my car around the back (because otherwise his bike would be a crushed pile of metal) and get down the road. Without his helmet. Three-point turn it is.
Half-way to Home Depot, Juni says his tummy hurts. I'm guessing Halloween candy. Throwing up is definitely a possibility, and Evie is back to asking "Where's Mommy?"
Hitting my limit here! We're late. The kids are hungry. And loud. And Evie thinks kicking the back of my chair is frigging hilarious. She's also babbling about shoes, and a book she keeps dropping on the floor for me to barely pick up with my arm. I'm drowning, here. Seriously, seriously drowning. I'm just about to have my breakdown from just too much chaos.
And then it happens...my revelation. I'm white-knuckling the steering wheel, eyes bulging, heart racing, and I pass the little cemetery by our house. And there's an excavator digging a grave. And you know what? I'm alive. I'm not six feet under. I can breath, and feel the sun on my face, and soak up the sunshine around me.
So I laugh. And turn on Simon and Garfunkel's "The Boxer" louder than the kids. And even though our day is pretty darned stressful, it's a wonderful. Because we're alive, and breathing, and smiling.