Home Life
It isn’t much like that scene from the Daddy Daycare previews, where countless small people scream and swarm over Eddie Murphy’s helpless, collapsing body. Generally speaking, our home life is peaceful and quiet.
BUT. There are two times every day where I start thinking Uh, this IS kind of a lot, wtf.
First thing in the morning – because both boys are asking for different things for breakfast and drinks, asking if they can let Isis out of her room (or crate), asking if they can go outside, etc, while Taylor screeches and points at things in the kitchen. Meanwhile Ty is at his worst when he’s just up and is liable to be whining or throwing a full-on OCD fit. And I am still trying to wake up. I am the kind of person who used to set my alarm early enough that I could have a full 20 minutes to just sit on the edge of my bed staring at the wall in a daze, before getting ready for high school. It just sucks, once I’ve spent 30 or so minutes passing out and/or preparing food, have calmed Ty and have either changed two diapers or wiped up the tile as many times, depending on whether the boys have their morning juice. And I can’t let Isis out of her crate just yet because, well, she’s a dog. But that scratching sound that comes out of her crate when she paws the floorboard, ugh. And if she is the first to be fed, there goes Taylor, trying to get the dog’s food.
“Mommy, I need juice. Mommy, where’s my breakfast?” I tend to end up standing in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing out the dreadlocks in my hair, loudly re-stating to anyone who approaches me “Remember I said I just need a FEW MINUTES to myself?!”
And, pre-dinner evenings. It’s like feeding time at the zoo, with everyone prowling around acting irrational. Worst-case scenario: I’m making dinner and have no idea what we’re going to have. But even when it’s all planned out and running smoothly, there is just something about that time of day. Ty is going to be at his most OCD extreme, having little fits of yelling nonsense and flinging himself around and beating on everything he can get his hands on. That is when Kyle will actually whine and complain. Without fail, at least two of the three will be underfoot in the kitchen asking for food the entire time I’m cooking. I can send Ty to the corner or Kyle to his room, I can go drop Taylor off in front of her toys five dozen times, reminding the brood AGAIN that I am cooking: My prescence in the kitchen signals everyone to come bugging! Usually this time involves Taylor getting into the garbage as often as possible. And it all culminates with the boys waiting impatiently at their table, Taylor strapped into her seat, and my fast-footing between the table and kitchen, waiting on them like I’m back at T.G.I.Friday’s. And there’s Isis, who is begging to be let out and do her business outside, doing that pawing thing in her crate.
I don’t normally feel harried. Our late mornings are really calm; the boys tend to be in the living room, playing, while Taylor naps – unless I’ve taken us all to the shade of the side yard. Ty colors, Kyle watches some TV. Then they switch off. Isis spends most late mornings and afternoons on the living room floor, napping. The boys and I read a book or do some flash cards. Afternoons, when I don’t work, are calm, too, with Kyle napping and Ty and Taylor actually playing together. Bedtimes are even simple now, and I like the quiet of paying them individual attention during bath routines.
I love the kids-have-gone-bed time, when Dad and I can talk, like we did in our pre-kid days. Only this time, Isis is around – kind of like an only child. And I really love having the kids around – when they’re quiet and good and angelic.
But twice a day, our home is the three-ring circus that people envision when they hear “3 kids 4 and under… and a dog.”
