Picture it, Richwood...2012....3:06pm (any day...every day....)
My kids are 9 and 7, and are arriving back from their 2 block walk from the school.
Jansen walks in, throws his backpack on the couch, and then takes his shoes and shorts off and leave everything in the living room as he screams, "I have to go to the bathroom!"
Exactly 2 minutes later Caleb comes in yelling, "Tatum, get back. Get back Tatum. Tatum, get back!" He has the door cracked and won't walk in, as the dog sits barking at him, waiting for him to just walk in.
By this time, Jansen has come back into the room as I am yelling for Caleb to just WALK IN! I tell Jansen to put up his shorts and shoes, and reach for his backpack. Caleb throws his backpack on top of Jansen's as I am lifting it off the couch. I yelp, and tell him to hang it on the hook and I will go through his in a minute.
He screams that he has to go to the bathroom. Do our public schools not have bathrooms or something? Where do they think we pee? On the lawn?
Jansen yells at Caleb for running into him coming back out of his room. I walk to the site of the incident and smell a strong urine smell coming from the guest bathroom. I JUST CLEANED THAT BATHROOM! Now I have two boys and for some reason, no matter what I do, it smells like a family of cats have been living in that tiny bathroom for 3 years. Did I mention that I was just on my hands and knees with vinegar and baking soda, followed by a fine mist of bleach all over the toilet, the seat, the floor, the baseboards?
I walk in.....pee all over the seat. I scream, "I JUST CLEANED THIS TOILET! GET A RAG AND THE SPRAY BOTTLE!"
Then all hell breaks loose. Jansen is crying, "I didn't do it, Caleb did it." Caleb is screaming, "I haven't even gone yet!" I am screaming, "I don't care, both of you clean it up!"
I turn to walk out of the bathroom to go back to the backpacks and trip over the shoe that Jansen was supposed to put in his room.
I hear more screaming from the bathroom as Jansen is soaking his brother in lysol as Caleb is actively using the toilet, and then I watch as Caleb turns to yell at him mid-stream and pees all over my shower curtain.
Slowly I turn...and walk out of the bathroom clenching my teeth so hard I am sure a molar will be crushed. Both back packs are still on the couch and I start pulling out crammed papers, half zipped lunch boxes, and packed folders. As I pull each one out and organize everything into piles, Jansen comes back in the room.
"Momma, I am hungry". Every day. Every day! EVERY DAY! Why must my kids eat every day! And why must they announce their hunger to me Every Day?! I say the exact same thing I say EVERY DAY...."Look in the snack bin in the pantry." We have a snack bin that has prepackaged granola, fruit snacks, crackers, goldfish etc that the boys can get into any time they wish.
"Momma, I am thirsty." Again, why must you tell me? Get a drink out of the fridge!
Caleb comes back in, full of anxious energy. "Jansen that was my granola!" Although he has failed to look in the bin to see that there are 14 more in there waiting for him. Jansen and Caleb exchange death glares, followed by some shoves, and I almost shove them both.
"Can you two just spend 2 minutes getting your own things in quiet so I can figure out what all we have to do tonight for homework?"
"He's LOOKING AT ME!"
"Caleb go in the living room, Jansen stay in the kitchen." Caleb whines, "I am thiiiiiiiiiirsty!" "GET YOUR OWN DRINK OUT OF THE FRIDGE!"
I figure out what needs to be done, have everything piles with pencils and erasers ready for the boys to work on this evening and notice Caleb is pouring milk from the jug into a cup that he has in the fridge instead of on the counter. Milk spills all over the inside of the fridge and trickles onto the floor. Less than half of an inch of milk made it into the cup.
"Why? Why would you put the cup in the fridge, balancing on the bunch of grapes to pour the milk?"
"I don't know!"
At this point, I abandon all hope of cleaning anything at all during the day, getting anything organized, or maintaining any semblance of sanity and we are only 8 minutes out of school. I walk into the living room, slump on the couch, and fade out for a whole minute. Jansen comes in.
"Momma, I am hungry. What time is dinner?"