Today's adventure began at breakfast time. I was attempting to supervise my 2-year-old daughters with their first bowls of cereal. I could picture milk everywhere, so I wasn't budging from the front of their highchairs.
And I was also trying to teach my soon to be 16-year-old how to make dip eggs and eggs in a hole (dip egg in bread with hole cut out in the center) at the same time - not such a good idea to do both at same time.
By the time we were done the pan was smoking from butter and I thought I smelled rubber (the handle of the frying pan?) and my brain was a scrambled mess lacking any thought process what-so-ever. During this time my 12-year-old's little league coach called. I couldn't answer due to the pandemonium, so I let him leave a message.
It's Memorial Day, so I wasn't sure what he was calling about. Checked voice mail and just as expected, I couldn't hear him above my daughter Gabby who was screaming shrill because she did not want her froot loops. Mean while, her sister surprised me and devoured hers, which shouldn't have surprised me because it was sugar.
Gabby is a future health nut like her Mama. No, wait...they will both be future health nuts like their mama. Now, back to the coach. I quickly called him back and listened eagerly to what he had to say. Trying to make out his words above all the noise was like decoding morse code.
It turned out that my 12-year-old son has a game tonight and he just wanted to know if my boy would be there. He won't be there because he's on a camping trip with a friend. He'll be back tonight. In the end, milk wasn't spilled and my son's eggs didn't turn out too bad.
As I write this, I am the keeper of the baby gates, sitting on the floor in front of the now "double gates" (plastic and wood) that my daughters still manage to take down. Gabby doesn't do this on her own. Oh, no, this is all Isabella's idea who is so much like her crafty mother that it's scary.
Gabby is going back and forth from the front of the fan that's in the window with mismatched sandals, enjoying the breeze from the fan while Isabella is running back and forth from me to the love seat. Every time she returns to me she jabbers away with something important to say.
Now she's sitting on my ring binder and the other one is trying to rip my paper. I'm surrounded by baby zillas, help...
~It's a beautiful life.
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