5 minutes in my life

Five minutes ago I was fielding a round of questions from Moo. Typical three year old lines of interrogations: Why can we go to the store later? What does later mean? Why does it mean that?

Little sister started crying, so I scooped her up and carried her to the nursery to be changed. Both boys followed me, Moo asking questions the entire time. I did not really want to field more questions while wrestling a squirming 15 month old, so I told him I needed him to stop talking to me for a few minutes. This was the wrong thing to say. Cue an epic meltdown, replete with huge sobs and cries of, "Why can't I talk? I want to talk!" Meanwhile, little brother was trying to show Moo a toy car, which led to sobs of, "I don't want to see it! Don't show that to me!", to which his little brother responded, "Hi!" in the cheerful manner of an oblivious 15 month old.

Since my daughter was, at that very moment, shrieking in protest while trying to claw my arm off as I wrestled her into a clean diaper, I decided the next order of business was to clip her nails. She disliked that idea and tried to bite me. The boys had moved to the hall, where Moo had taken the toy car from his brother and flung it toward the back door before turning to me and yelling that he was hungry and wanted something to eat. I got after him for taking something from one of his siblings, then told him I'd feed him (again, as breakfast was less than two hours ago) after I was finished with his sister. Oh, and his brother. Who was, by then, clinging to my legs making noises of complaint.

There you go. That is but five, very typical, minutes of my day. Somehow, this blog post just doesn't seem to capture the reality of it. I love and adore my brilliant, funny children. I just wish that their daddy wasn't working this morning and that someone else was fielding the questions, poopy diapers, screams, scratches, and requests for food this morning. Mommy would like to be sleeping still. ;)