Every parent knows what this is. It starts around 5PM and continues until at least 6PM . . . on a bad day, it doesn't end. You just give up and put the kids in bed at 7PM.
Then, around 9PM, you go in to check on them and they look so angelic in their repose, you can almost forget about the fact that 3 hours earlier you were seriously thinking about setting them out on the curb with a sign reading "Free to Good Home."
So, for your amusement and entertainment, I give you the witching hour, Blackburn home, Wednesday, December 9th, in a series of emails I sent to Brian.
Sent at 4:47PM - Since my last communication...here's what's been happening... While I was upstairs doing laundry, thinking that Emma was watching Word Girl, she was, in point of fact, UNDECORATING the tree. Every ornament she could reach while standing on the ottoman was in one of the two chairs.
Sent at 5:21PM - Since my last communication.... While I was upstairs, Emma pulled the ottoman into the kitchen and was eating the cheerios and other forms of gluten-y goodness that were still sitting on the tray to James' high chair, which is currently located in the kitchen sink. Can you say GROSS? In case you are wondering - I've given up on all upstairs activies and have brought the laptop to the kitchen counter. It's the only way I'll survive.
Sent at 5:44PM - When I went to get James up from his nap - keep in mind I was only upstairs for 2 minutes - I returned to find all the couch cushions on the floor and Emma jumping up and down on the now cushion-less couch. I think I'll need to go out tonight.
Sent at 5:51PM - She just managed to remove the backing from a stocking holder. And she has a dirty diaper. Again. Definitely going out.
Sent at 6:06PM - She just defaced the snowman that plays the piano - colored all over it with an ink pen - while I stood 10 feet away in the kitchen. I don't know where she found the pen. I still haven't managed to get supper in the oven. I will try again. How late did you say you were working?
Items I did NOT email him about, because, really, I didn't have time:
- Emma went outside. She went straight for the muddiest part of the yard. Her pants were soaked, her white shoes? Brown.
- She unwrapped all the Hershey Nuggets with Toffee & Almonds. I don't think she ate any (she's allergic to practically everything in them). I, however, did eat them. All of them. Can you blame me?
- When I ran - literally - upstairs to get the powercord for the laptop, I came into the kitchen to find Emma with the oven door open and a fork in hand, getting ready to get into the pan of chicken. The oven was on. At 350. Scared me to death. I screamed her name in panic. She backed away from the stove and I spent the next 5 minutes trying to get both her and James to stop crying. My scream scared them both. I'll be buying an oven lock while I'm out tonight.
- On more times than I could count, I had to tell Emma to "GET DOWN" - from the ottoman, the coffee table, the sofa table, the dining room table, the top of the recliner, the arm of the couch . . .
- I also frequently said things like "Emma Kalyn, do not kick your brother" and "Emma, WHAT are you doing?"
- I also had to convince Emma that the Christmas stockings are not socks and that "No, you cannot wear them around the house".
So, I'm off - for a little Christmas shopping/retail therapy. I leave you with this and the knowledge that when I get home and peek into their rooms, I will remember how much I love being their mom.
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