Just One Email

     It truly was just one email. At the time, I had quite my career to stay home with my children and wanted to write one email which would serve as my outlet to the outside world. I can't even remember who I was messaging, just that I wanted a few minutes to myself without interruption. Was that too much to ask? The answer is yes if you were wondering.
     Mid email, my two and a half year old daughter called my name. "Mama!"
     "Just a minute, honey."
     "Mama, I need you."
     "I know, honey, just give me a minute," I said scrambling to complete my thoughts.
     Seconds later, my girl showed up in the doorway of the den and with one hand on her hip said, "Mom! Miles is eating coffee!"
     Now she had my attention.
     Coffee? What?
     I flew from my chair and ran into the kitchen. There sat my little eight and a half month old baby eating coffee grains right out of a garbage bag. It was such a sad yet beautiful sight. His face glowed as he proudly chomped on the discarded beans, but what a mess. He was dressed in a diaper so grains were stuck all over his skin and to the diaper and some were even down the diaper.
     I grabbed him and pulled coffee from his mouth in the same motion. Then I brought him to the sink to hose him off. That's just what a baby who doesn't sleep needs, caffeine. And the mom of the year award goes to...
     In my defense, my baby boy had just learned to crawl and I think I forgot that he could do it. Why else would I leave an unattended bag of garbage on the kitchen floor? And I'm sure you can guess what my girl said to me as I scurried around the kitchen to fix my mistake.
     "Told you."

I've been working on the railroad

     Every time my son comes home from a weekend with his dad he punishes me for leaving him. I get it, he loves his mom and is mad that she sent him away for the weekend. That being said, waking me up twice a night for two nights in a row does not help anybody. Who wants to hang out with a cranky, sleep deprived mom? I wouldn't want to hang out with her and I certainly don't want to be her either.
    So, last Monday at 2 am and 4 am my son called for me. The first time around I got off easy, "go back to bed Bud," I whispered. Nice it worked! The second time around I found myself lying in bed with him. Okay, I didn't just lie there, I fell asleep. Then I had one of those falling dreams which caused me to jump in my sleep. The jumping action moved the bed, which touched a toy, which began to play I've Been Working on the Railroad at 4:27 am.
     I sat up delirious and pissed off then hunted for the damn toy. The room was extremely dark so I had to rely on my hearing sense to track it down. When I found it, it was as though the switch had disappeared. I could not find it anywhere.
     Eventually, I ended up in the hallway where I found the elusive switch and turned the thing off. For the next half hour I stared at my bedroom ceiling before finally falling asleep.
     The next day, when asked why mom was so tired, I recapped the story to my children. Apparently, my rendition of I've Been Working on the Railroad should have been brought to the comedy circuit because my kids asked to hear it over and over again.
     "Hey mom, sing it again. No not like that, with your funny voice and funny dancing."
     I come from a long line of goofy people. Like my mom says, "you don't get it from the wind." But even funny people need sleep.
       
      

I don't even like clowns

     A few weekends ago, my best friend's son thought it would be funny to torment his sister and my daughter. We were spending the weekend at my parent's cabin pretending that it was not ten degrees outside and the kids were playing in the basement. Our children are eight, six, five and three and a half so leaving them unattended for short increments of time is not unreasonable parenting.
     While my friend and I enjoyed our coffee we began to hear phrases like "stop it!" and "mom!" We were not excited to leave our state of relaxation but who were we kidding, did we really expect it to last?
     "Coming!" we yelled. But before we could even make it to the staircase, the four kids were at our feet.
     "He's being mean!"
     "Tell him to stop it!"
     "I don't like that."
     "Okay, okay," we asked. "What happened?"
     The three younger kids unanimously agreed that the oldest was taunting them. After further interrogation, the main piece of evidence was confiscated. It was a picture of a disturbing clown.
     "Seriously." I said.
     Now lets go back in time, fifteen minutes should do it.
     My friend's son approached me with a question.
     "Angie, would you help me?"
     "Sure honey, what do you need?"
     "I need a picture."
     "Picture of what?"
     "A clown."
     So the art teacher in me drew the kid a clown.