If I were a drinking girl, I would've been bellied up to a bar -- mine or someone else's -- by the time our blessed Jeep was ready to leave for Grandma and Grandpa's house this afternoon.
Each little checklist item took more effort than it should to accomplish. I will spare you the painful details -- I'm not yet ready to fashion them into crafty words -- so an overview will have to suffice.
Each little temper tantrum escalated past normal ranges. The elder, by the way, not the baby.
Each little momentary escape to be in a room by myself was interrupted by "Mooooooooommmmmmmmy?!?"
Each little glimpse of progress dimmed in the shadows of a new mess.
Each little job to do devolved into some variation of this exchange:
"I'll do that for you, Mommy."
"Thank you, this is so heavy, I'll just go ahead and do us both a favor by carrying X out to the car."
"Moooooommmmy! I said I would do it!! (insert fit here)
"Thank you -- that's so sweet of you -- but I'll find another job for you."
And finally, the three of us stood in the kitchen...ready to take the last bathroom break, grab the last snack, sip the last drink, and give the house the last once-over before cozying into car seats.
"Hey, Mommy!" the elder little started as he squeezed his applesauce packet dangerously. "I can eat this faster than two elephants eating hay!"
I never would've thought.
In a few minutes, I can jump into the Starbucks drive-thru line for a grande chai faster than you can disagree with me...