This product contains alcohol.

n8 was kissing Hannah’s neck to make her giggle yesterday. Hannah put her hand up to protect herself, and n8 nearly passed out. Mom has a bottle of waterless hand sanitizer in the TV room, within Hannah’s reach. Hannah had used so much sanitizer that her hands reeked of alcohol, and the fumes made n8’s eyes water and his head dizzy.

We spent today teaching Hannah what Enough means.

Snow Days

While driving one evening, I remembered one of my favorite wintertime activities: Sledding. I replayed my vivid memories of sledding as a kid: the cold crunch of deep-winter snow; the flashing of Northern lights against a tall, clear sky; the crisp whoosh of the sled in the otherwise still air; the biting wind on my face that somehow made me feel delightfully alive; the whisperings of the bigness of the God in the living, silent, inky winter; the taste of hot chocolate or the smell of cider after a long night outdoors… I sighed deeply on the inside. My children would experience the sensations and joys of sledding and grow to love it as much as their mother.

The following day, the adventure began.

I dug Hannah’s snow pants out of their drawer, then ran downstairs for Nayah’s. I searched through piles of winter gear for Eli’s. Three pairs of snow pants, three different places. Total time: 15 minutes.

I had Hannah put her pair on, ordered Eli to wear his, and began the search for mittens, scarves, and hats. Eli did not move from his place on the couch where he had been naked for the last hour. He had chosen to solidly ignore my commands (about ten of them) to GET DRESSED. Since I was busy cleaning up breakfast, bathing and dressing Nayah, and completing myriad other chores, I failed to follow through with disciplining him for his inactivity.

I desperately searched for my own pair of snow pants (and ordered Eli to get dressed), and after despairing of finding them, changed into two pairs of pants which would together have worked against cold and snow. It was only after I had changed, of course, (picked out, and threw a shirt at Eli), that I finally located my snow pants–in the back of the closet at the bottom of a trunk I had not opened in over a year. Total Time: 30 minutes.

Hannah was now completely dressed in all her snow gear. I was dressed from the waist down. My boots had taken fifteen minutes, three floors, and two closets to locate. Eli was still naked. Nayah had been put down for a nap. It was almost time for lunch by now, but I was determined to go sledding, even if it meant a two o’clock mid-day meal.

I plucked Eli from the couch (still too busy to mess with disciplining him), carried him to his bedroom (I did not trust him to meander there when he felt like it), and began pulling clothes out of drawers and onto him. Unfortunately, each time I rose to open a drawer for an item (nunnerwear, socks, pants, etc), Eli jumped from my lap and darted out of the room. I made two inefficient trips to the living room to collect his shirt, his snow pants, and himself. Finally I grabbed his shoulders and whispered two meaningful words: Wooden Spoon. His body snapped into ramrod straight obedience. Total Dressing Eli Time (including dashings and snatchings): 15 minutes.

I was frustrated this was taking so long, but determined to still have fun. I opened Nayah’s door to encourage her to end her nap. Eli walked in and plunked himself down on her little body to “kiss” her. Nayah woke up crabby. I pulled Eli’s snow pants on, then negotiated how many and which toys he could take with on this excursion. I zipped one Junior Asparagus’ Dad and two cars into three different pockets. I was feeling victorious, for Eli, Hannah, Nayah, and I were all dressed and walking to the door… (Total Time: 15 minutes) so Eli had to snatch that victory away by saying those five words every toddler must say once they are firmly ensconced in their snow gear: I HAVE TO GO POTTY.

Off came his coat, mittens, hat (for good measure, one is never sure where he may aim); down came snow pants, pants 1 and pants 2, and nunnerwear. Despite the speed in which I undressed him, I found that he had made a mistake: he had actually meant to use the past tense . He did not have to go potty, he WENT potty. His boots, socks, long johns, pants, nunnerwear, and snow pants had to be removed. Thankfully, due to the great number of layers on his lower half and the waterproofness of his outer nylon pants, the tinkle had not reached his snow pants. I laid him on the floor and threatened every fingernail on his hands if he so much as twitched. I grabbed a fresh pair of nunnerwear and pants, then dressed him: Underwear, pants, (I skipped long johns that time), snow pants, socks, and boots. Then Hannah, who was watching the proceedings while Nayah serenaded us with whiney cries, said: “I have to go potty too.” Dressing four people, two of them twice, can be exhausting. And I’m not even pregnant! Total time: 20 minutes.

I loaded two sleds and three heavily bundled children into the van. Nayah had been crying/whimpering since Eli’s “kiss”. (Attention Navayah’s Prince Charming: NEVER awaken the Empress in such a way if you want to live with all of your limbs intact!)

We reached the park with the hill, a quarter mile from our house (I was not going to further exhaust myself by walking there, pulling three children in two sleds, then trudging up the hill a few times, still pulling all three. We had to eat sometime.). Navayah Emeth had shaken off both sets of mittens from each hand and one of her boots. She was still screaming. I unloaded the heavily laden crew. Hannah walked toward the hill toting one sled. Eli tripped and plowed through snow, stopping frequently for hand-scoops of the stuff. Navayah rode screaming in the other sled. She was light, stiff, and angry, so she slid out a few times until I deposited Eli into the sled with her for stability. Eli sat in the back, Screeching Navayah laid on her back in front of him, shaking mittens off her hands. She rolled herself over and trailed her bare fingers in the snow, quickly bringing the temperature of her hands to that of outside.

Somehow, this sledding experience was not as magical as I had envisioned it would be.

We made it less than halfway up the hill before Hannah panicked. The hill was too big and scary. I plucked Howling Nayah out of the sled and gave it a kick. Eli scuttled down the hill. I have no idea if he enjoyed it. Hannah, Screaming Nayah, and I climbed into the remaining sled and flew down. I had almost taken a deep, de-stressing breath when the ride was over. Hannah had fun that run.

Eli and Persistently-Bawling Nayah rode again, Hannah walked. She complained that her legs hurt her and she was tired. She complained that the hill was too steep, too scary, too slippery, and we were too far up it. I gave up after trudging up two-thirds of it. This time I decided to stack the sleds on top of each other and go down as a family. Eli in front, Hannah in the middle, and Nayah and I bringing up the caboose.

This was not a brilliant idea. First, with the added weight and increased instability, I could not grind my heels into the snow as a brake. This meant I had to keep my hands on the ground so we would not soar away, leaving Navayah screaming partway up the hill. I had set her down to help load the rest because she continuously insisted on rolling OUT of the sled and I could not do both. Additionally, for reasons beyond my comprehension, Hannah decided to take her warm mittens off (perhaps she wanted to emulate her baby sister?). I finally snatched the Shrieking Baby, twisted back to facing forward, and gave up steering and trying to balance us, which meant that we speedily wobbled down the hill directly into the swamp grass which halted our sled with a whispered *pumf*. We tipped over. All three started crying (oh, wait–Nayah had not STOPPED crying).

Hannah’s hat had fallen off shortly after we had taken off. I dashed up the hill to get it. She lost control of her emotions (not Hannah!). Mommy was running away from her. Mommy was going to leave her on this huge, scary hill (“No, dear, not you. Just your little sister. We’re going to dig a hole and bury her here since she so badly wants to be the temperature of the snow.”)

I shoved Hannah’s hat down on top of her head, gruffly demanded she stop crying, and tried to shove her mittens on her hands. She screamed in pain. They were FILLED with snow. (Why on earth did you take these off?!) I finally pulled one of Nayah’s sets of mittens on her hands. She did not need them. After all, she would only keep them on for about four seconds and I was tired of pulling them onto her flailing fists.

Hannah calmed down to hiccups. Eli and Nayah again rode in the sled. Nayah flipped onto her stomach again and howled and “surfed” on the sled, burying her little hands in the fluffy, frozen snow. After losing the Battle of the Mittens for the twenty-seventh time, I yanked off my pair and pulled them up to Nayah’s armpits. They stayed on her hands till we were twenty feet from the car. By that time we were on asphalt so she could not submerge her hands in snow any longer.

We made it home. I did not leave Navayah by the side of the road, in a ditch, or buried in a hole in the soft snow. I consider that a victory. If anyone ever hears me suggest that the kids and I go sledding, please, yank off each of my fingernails and soak my hands in lemon juice. It would be far less painful.

Monday

We went to Great-Grandpa and -Grandma Addink’s place this weekend. It was a great weekend. The kids had fun playing at the house where we stayed. They enjoyed Uncle Tim, Grandpa and Grandma, new toys, lots of attention, and the Twins. Their parents enjoyed a brief break from their neediness.

TODAY IS MONDAY.

We arrived home late Sunday night because n8 and I had youth group. We unloaded a weekend’s worth of miscellaneous junk from the car, tried to find toothbrushes, pajamas, and diapers while corralling three suddenly very energetic children to put them to bed. For the third night in a row they went to bed far past their usual bedtime. So when they all decided to wake up this morning far earlier than their usual arising time, I was not filled with joy. My morning started like this:

Hannah, breathing six inches from my face: Mommy, I have to go potty and poopy.
Me: Why are you telling me this? GO! This is your own house! You know where the bathroom is and how to go by yourself!
Hannah leaves.

Two minutes later: Thap. Thap-thap-thap. (That’s Nayah knocking on her door to let me know she is awake and ready to get up.) I lumber over to her door, miss the doorknob on the first reach, pull Nayah out, and stumble back to bed to nurse her. A familiar and altogether unpleasant smell reaches my nose before I reach the bed. I quietly swear. It seems Hannah was not the only girl who had to go “potty and poopy” during this fifteen minute period. I clean poop using only one eye because the other is glued shut from sleep. I begin to cuddle Nayah and try to sleep long enough (15 minutes?) to pry open my second eye.

Eli enters just as we settle in. I smell him before I hear him. Like an ancient, groaning garage door, my very heavy single eyelid slowly creaks open. I can see Eli’s poop seeping out of his shirt and pants. The eyelid thuds back down and I try to breathe only through my mouth. I debate leaving him, but realize the effects of such an action are not worth the extra and interrupted time in bed. I set a screaming Nayah on the floor and throw (almost literally) Eli into the shower.

We are now three for three. All three children thought it would be a great idea to greet their mother with diarrhea³ first thing in the morning.

Nayah follows me into the bathroom and attaches her body to my moving leg in hopes that I will knock her over, cause her to cry harder, and be forced to pick her up as a result. I do not fall for this ancient trick, but instead lock her in Hannah and Eli’s room (ok, just shut the door on her, same thing) so I can efficiently clean poop off several surfaces.

Eventually every child gets fed and bathed and dressed despite their best efforts not to. Two out of three of them cry at any given time.

• Hannah takes a toy from Eli.
• Eli spills milk.
• Nayah is angry because she wants THAT food that Hannah has, not the stupid food that is on her tray (they are identical)!
• Hannah pushes Eli because he picks up the square of fabric she had been playing with but set down.
• The second of five loads of laundry from the weekend needs to be moved on. Nayah sits at the top of the stairs crying.
• I did not move it on soon enough, so now I need to iron two more of n8’s dress shirts.
• The dishwasher needed to have been started three hours ago.
• Eli knocks over my tea because he needed to climb onto the table to show Hannah something. (“We NEVER climb on top of tables! We ask MOMMY to help! We stay SITTING with our BOTTOMS on our CHAIRS!”)
• Someone (one of our boarders or their significant others) cooked something on my stove while we were gone, and it overflowed. I know this because they left the evidence there for me to find. And clean.
• The older pair fight over every toy the other has (this is unusual), bringing me six inches away from losing reason and logic by making sweeping, unrealistic threats like, “If you take one more toy away from each other, I will take every toy out of this house and burn it and you will not get another toy from anyone as long as you live! There are children starving in Africa who would kill for toys like yours!”
• Despite the lack of sleep from the weekend, my children decide not to sleep during their afternoon nap.

I know the weekend was fun, but do Mondays have to be this brutal? I haven’t been awake long enough to need a break this severely!