College students, if you ever get those thoughts about parenting being such fun (which it can be, but not always)...read this post again:
One of the greatest moments of my parenting career occurred today. One of those moments that reminds me what miracles my children are.
I'll start from the beginning. My children have taken turns throwing up the past few days so there's been very little sleep for anyone. So I was already in fully grumpy Dad mode. I'm not defending myself. Just throwing it out there.
But now everyone's feeling better but I woke up a few minutes later than I normally do and called upstairs to the girls and the boy to come down. Then I began making breakfast and preparing lunch. Every morning at the same time I think to myself that if I were a better parent I'd prepare lunches the night before. But I never do.
After a few minutes I realize nobody's come down so I dart up the stairs and call them with urgency from their doorways. "Let's go guys. Move it."
So now everyone's late. My seven year old stumbles down and it turns out she slept in her school uniform and it looks it. She explains, "I wanted to be the first to be ready this morning so I slept in my school uniform." Oh no. I looked around but her other jumper was dirtier and more wrinkled than the one she's got on.
They all wobble into the bathroom where I hear the complaining that's probably inevitable with four tired children crowded around one sink. Somebody pushed me!!!!!! She didn't even say thank you!!!!!!!! He spit right near my hand!!!!!
I go in and break up the ruckus and rush them off to the breakfast table where I throw pancakes in front of them. The four year old proceeds to fill up his plate with syrup. I'm not kidding you when I say he filled it up. The ten year old screamed as if a tidal wave of syrup were threatening to wash the entire house away.
I've had it. I shoo everyone from the table to get dressed. The ten year old is still in full morning zombie mode so I have to keep reminding her to keep buttoning her shirt. The eight year old cries when I brush her hair. And the four year old can't find his shoes but continues looking around at the walls as if maybe his shoes might come floating into the room if he just looked confused enough.
I'm now convinced I have the worst kids in the world. I run outside to warm up the car and the four year old follows me in his socks and then falls on an ice patch in the driveway. Now he's crying. I start the van, pick up the boy, and come back in the house and the two year old it seems has decided to take a dip in the Olympic sized syrup pool created earlier by the four year old. She's got it all over her. I'm trying to imagine how it happened but the best scenario I can come up with is she reached onto the table, pushed the lip of the plate down, creating a catapult of syrup onto herself and the kitchen floor. Continue reading.