Well, it started off ordinary enough. Watched some PBS, made some breakfast, checked some email. Grandma had stopped by before the little guys awoke, and had left some small gifts. C got himself a glass of water and sat down with the watercolors and paper. A short time later, he was at my elbow handing me "soup". Soup? Oh...he'd transferred the blue-green water from his art project into a cereal bowl. Golly, thanks but no thanks.
Not so quick, Mom. He was married to this idea. So I moved him to a countertop, gave him several containers between which to pour his pretty water, and left him to it. That's when he started adding things.
Meh. I'm pretty laid-back about kitchen mess. (While it's being made. When it's time for me to clean it, I verbally abuse everyone. Hey, at least I admit it.) Other mess, not so much. I went into the dining room and found this.
Gee, guess who was responsible for that little delight?
Just look at that face. No remorse, I tell you. In fact, I think she sulked a bit, since I took the yummy leaves from the top of the plant away from her. I'm such a killjoy.
C was calling to me. "I made you breakfast, Mom!" Oh?
Oh, yes. "Salt water cereal soup!"
Mmmmmmm. Oh you read that right. I am a good mom and Crayola watercolors are nontoxic (now camouflaged by food coloring) and I'm pretty sure I won't die from that ceremonial 1/2 drop that may have actually gotten ingested. Good stuff, kid. Yum, yum. (cough, cough.)
I then started cleanup in the dining room. Once I had the surviving plant life moved out of that corner and the carpet vacuumed, I decided that the craft supply cabinet might work better in that spot. (What? You don't keep construction paper and paste sticks in your dining room?) I had to empty it out to do so, and the pile of craft supplies immediately attracted C, who started happily combining items. I sorted through the supplies and reloaded the stuff he wasn't using into the cabinet while he played. I finished and turned around to see him smacking a piece of paper to the wall.
A wise mother might have speculated about the how of that action. Nope...it took a second piece of paper for me to witness, and yelp in surprise and alarm.
That, for the record, is a custom blend of mashed-up paste stick and glitter glue. Quite effective.
I went to the kitchen to fetch a rag to scrub the wall. By now, T was into the spice cupboard and food coloring, making secret mixtures of his own.
I don't know how much garlic powder he used, but by bedtime tonight he still smelled like the kitchen at an Italian restaurant.
I decided it was time to take Bad Dog out of time-out, and tied her out. I am a
Some of which were newly purchased for this spring cleaning effort. And, wouldn't you know...the bins and lids, despite being the same brand and color and having come from the same rack in the store, were not made to fit each other. Damn it. Now that project was stalled, plus I would have to return to the store to exchange for the correct lids. < annoyed >
As you can see, by this point it had become kind of a theme to photodocument this rapidly degrading morning. May I also note that the book in the background of the above picture...
is a just-arrived Amazon.com purchase. Which was made necessary by Bad Dog absolutely destroying the copy that the local library was kind enough to trust us with. < super annoyed >
Yeah, the love-hate thing with the dog is still kind of trying to balance itself out. Today? Not endearing herself to me much.
The final "oh my God make it stop" moment of the morning came in between the trip to the attic and the "let's photograph empty bins because I am SO blogging this" effort, and goes as follows. I was in the attic, and the dog (remember, now parked outside in the lovely shade) was barking her damn fool head off. I was NOT in the mood, and figured she would eventually tire of throwing her little "I need company every second of the day" fit. But she didn't. She kept barking and barking and barking. So I came down from the attic and went outside to give her what-for. And in a cruel twist of fate, this was the one moment I was without my camera...so you will have to imagine for yourself a leggy and dimwitted dog utterly tangled in her leash to the point where she cannot move. She had wrapped it under/around/through the picnic table and bench and then under/around/through her own legs, leaving her not only immobile, but only able to stand on three of her legs. Do you know how hard it is to comfort a frightened animal when every instinct in you is to laugh hysterically, because how the hell did she manage that feat of contortion??
BAD DOG IS THAT TINY SPOT IN TOP CENTER
where there is no shade but also no obstacles around which to hang herself. You can't tell in this picture, but she is giving me the stink-eye.
Oh calm down, I was down there within 20 minutes wrestling her and letting her slobber on the Frisbee, so there.
And I am VERY relieved to report that that marked the end of the Morning of Insanity. We all got along famously for the remainder of the day, and everyone made remarkably few messes and we all lived happily ever after. Frankly, after that rapid-fire of chaos, I think it had to get better from there.