"OH BOTHER" (But that's not what I really said.)

Will I never learn not to cram so many activities into one afternoon?!?!?!? Yesterday afternoon the kids and I found ourselves with too much to do and not enough time to do it. We raced home from a fabulous day at the Dinosaur Park and Grandma Lulu's house with the hopes of a quick dinner before pack meeting out at the baseball diamonds. Before we even made it in the door we smelled Mia's fully loaded diaper. I threw frozen waffles with no butter, jam or syrup at the kids and ran up the stairs to find a diaper and wipes. I ran back down the stairs, changed the baby, answered the phone, washed my hands and hurried to put the apple juice back in the fridge.

Can you feel the disaster that is about to happen?

As I pulled my arm out of the fridge, I bumped a FULL PITCHER OF RED KOOL-AID AND KNOCKED IT OVER. Oh, I know what you're thinking...."Yuck, a nasty spill that oozed and seeped and ran down behind the fruit and veggie drawers and onto the floor." OH NO!!! That's not even close my friend! This pitcher literally exploded as it fell out of the fridge and onto my feet. My shoes were soaked, my white shirt turned pink, my skin- ALL OF MY SKIN - resembled a speckled Easter egg, Kool-Aid dripped from the window that is at least 10 feet from the fridge AND, get this, EVEN MY VAULTED CEILING LOOKED LIKE A WAR ZONE! It took every kitchen towel and every bath towel I own to soak up the mess and then two magic erasers and a whole tub of Clorox wipes to clean it all up.

Here's the best part though.

While I was working frantically to keep the baby from making footprints in red on my carpet, and Jackson was crying because I said a "really bad word" (it wasn't THAT bad) and Maxwell was stressing out because his BIBI was soaked in Kool-Aid, my darling daughter Kacie made herself useful by mixing up another pitcher of Kool-Aid so we would have some to drink after pack meeting. I didn't have the heart to tell her I never wanted Kool-Aid in our house again!

An Interesting Thing Happened Today

Just as I got out of the shower this morning the phone rang. It was my neighbor and friend Juleen. She said that Maxwell was at her house, very concerned that I was nowhere to be found and that he and Jackson and Kacie were locked out of our house. Juleen, of course, thought that perhaps I had told the children they had to play outside while I did some cleaning or some other random task without interruption. Why she would think I needed to lock them out to accomplish such a task remains in question. I guess I'll have to ask her kids about that one. Anyway, I assured her that I HAD NOT locked my children outside and that they probably just needed to turn the door knob a little harder. Eventually they managed to get in and the whole incident was forgotten.

UNTIL......

Fast forward about 6 hours. The big kids are outside playing in the pool and Mia and I are downstairs doing laundry. Jackson comes running in, dripping wet and yells, "Mom. You gotta come see this!" Not wanting him to continue dripping all over the carpet, I hurried up the stairs and ran outside to watch the "totally awesome pool tricks" they had managed to invent. I watched for all of about 1 minute and turned to come back inside. NO CAN DO! THE DOOR IS LOCKED and on the other side of the glass stands my 21 month old stinker, MIA. In her efforts to join us outside, she managed to lock the door behind me. HHHMMM...is this what happened this morning too? I quickly remember that the battery is dead in the garage door key pad, (Why didn't we fix that a month ago?...The last time we got locked out.) and that I still - 2 years later - haven't given a copy of our house key to my neighbor!!! GGRRRR!!!! At this point Mia had giant, crocodile sized tears running down her chubby little cheeks and she begged and begged for us to let her outside. Jackson and I tried for 5 minutes to get her to unlock the door but apparently that is yet beyond her capabilities. So I left Jacks to keep an eye on her through the door and ran over to my neighbors to borrow a tiny screwdriver and an assortment of batteries so I could fix the dang key pad. By the time I got into the house, Mia was laying on the floor - calm as could be - watching Elmo and she simply said, "Mommy...Home."

Who knew a 21 month old could cause so much trouble!?!?!?!?