I wouldn't remember.
And I wouldn't believe it, either.
For instance, the Christmas tree was knocked down today by some of our boys. Just when I was feeling really successful for taking a shower before The Lawyer left for work, we heard the whoosh and crash of the tree falling and ornaments breaking. So The Lawyer wouldn't miss his bus, we simply propped the tree in the corner and he left us to clean up the bits of broken glass and ornaments. L was holding G and crying at the tragedy. I was speechless. It wasn't even 7 a.m.
The previous day had a pretty amazing list of uh-ohs. M, who wasn't resting, did find one very large, expensive dark chocolate bar in my bedroom. It was a gift I was saving for times I could savor little pieces of it. It was supposed to be "hidden." He ate the whole thing- except for the bits that were smeared on his face and hands. . . and our white matelasse cover and pillowcases and decorative pillows.
I was happy to receive a shipment with essential oils yesterday, as well as foaming hand soap. R wanted to help me fill the foaming dispensers. . . so there was soap on the hearth. (I did tell him before he spilled that I didn't think that was the best place to be pouring soap.) Then, M wanted to wash his hands. . . and used WAY more than his fair share to get the job done. Thankfully, with the foaming soap, all of his washing still left some soap for the rest of us (which hasn't been the case before).
And we've had a clogged toilet and countless pairs of wet pants and underwear. My theory is that 2 year olds occasionally have to relearn obedience. M asks, "Can I have a cracker?"
I answer, "No."
He reaches for the box anyway and I say, "No crackers, M."
He opens the box anyway. I'm washing dishes and distracted by other people talking to me. The next time I look over, he has a bag of crackers open in his hand. "I'm just going to have ONE," he says.
"No. No crackers," I say.
He looks at me and LICKS the cracker in his hand while quickly backing away, expecting to be stopped but hoping he'll be quick enough to enjoy his disobedience anyway.
It's exhausting, I tell 'ya. Especially when you're up at night and children are throwing bouncy balls and building with duplo blocks when you are all supposed to be having QUIET rest time.
And what's a mother to do? I've given some unexpected (unprompted) hugs and tried to keep my voice low and speak good words like "I'll always love you." And I've messed up lots and been frustrated and cried, too. Oh, it's a crazy life we're living- though I love it, too.