Mommy of the Year

I come in the door from work to be greeted with great joy. Taz and Rainbow tackle me with hugs and kisses while Duchess jumps around frantically yelping for my attention and licking my legs. Scouter grunts… a good indication of how the afternoon has been.

Within seconds, both kids resume whatever argument they were in prior to my arrival. I attempt to flee upstairs while Scouter resumes whatever discipline he was in the process of dishing out. But, I get sucked into the argument before I hit the steps. And Scouter is the one to flee to another room behind a closed door.

Next comes a flurry of dinner related activities, which include me listing 100,000 options for meals and the kids rejecting every single one. Generally, they narrow the choices to chicken nuggets, mac and cheese, or hot dogs. Then we argue the merits of fruit, vegetables, and milk. I mean how bad can strawberries, baby carrots slathered in ranch dressing, or chocolate milk really taste?

I know, I know – smart parents make one meal and the family enjoys it together. I’m sure the kids even thank the parent for preparing a delicious healthy meal. Yeh. I’ve tried that. The results were me jumping up from the table every five seconds until my meal was stone cold, listening to gagging sounds from Rainbow as she refused to even taste anything on her plate, while Scouter threatened early bedtime and no dessert.

Here's the alternative. Still in my work clothes, I scamper around the kitchen getting napkins and more ketchup, mopping up spilled milk, and unloading the dishwasher.

Next comes bath time which means another argument ensues as both Taz and Rainbow want to use the shower in my bathroom instead of their own. Once they’ve seen the light of compromise, I have a brief respite to change clothes - and fold laundry. A half hour later, I have two reasonably clean children and two bathrooms to mop.

Now the clamoring for dessert begins in earnest. After another restaurant quality verbal menu of options, they make their decisions and proceed to trash the kitchen once more.

About the time I give a five minute warning for bed, Taz announces that he’s starving and begs for more dinner. He is a bundle of energy so I can imagine that he’s burned off a lot of calories by then. Generally I capitulate and offer a bowl of cereal.

Once they finally accept that it is in fact bed time, they crawl (literally) up the stairs on all fours as slowly as they possibly can. By then, they are “sooooo exhausted” that they can’t possibly brush their teeth. Getting them into bed involves multiple requests for water and more kisses.

After Scouter and I finally finish the bed time ritual, he generally makes his own dinner while I snarf a Dove dark chocolate bar and chase it with a glass of wine.

Lather, rinse, repeat.