A conversation with Inge this morning:
Mama: Let me get your diaper changed, Sweetie.
Inge: Nooooooo. I noooo biper change!
Mama: Do you want to get a sore bottom?
Inge: Nooooooo. I nooooo sore bobbom!
Mama: Then let me get your diaper changed.
I then grab her and start the business. During the entire ordeal, Inge argues in the way only a two year old can: Nooooo, nooooo, I nooooo want biper change! I nooooo want biper change!
Do we see a theme here? Yeeeeeees!
Sometimes my little ones are not hungry yet when they are woken at 6:30 for our family breakfast. I usually just leave their food on the table for the mid-morning snack they generally need. I've taken to calling it second breakfast, in the spirit of Tolkein's Hobbits.
Today, by mid morning, I had finally summoned the energy to get rolling and get the left-over rice custard put away. (Thank you to Louisa, BTW, for preparing it last night, for an easy pop-in-the-oven breakfast today.)
Inge came in just then and gobbled her food from earlier. And then, of course, "Muurrrrrr, Mama, muurrrrrr." (In case you need translation, this is an adament, "More," in two-year-old speak.) I was just depositing the bowls from first breakfast to soak in the hot sudsy water, so I told her she had to wait a minute.
Stella came in, "Could I have some more, too, Mom, since I finished mine like a good girl this morning?" Well, of course her first bowl had just gone into the sink.
So out comes another clean bowl, along with the left-overs that had been in the fridge all of five minutes. I got everyone situated and put the food away once again.
Then Donna came in and quickly finished her first serving. By that time I had wisely removed myself from the kitchen. So when Donna's inevitable, "Can I have more, Mom?" came, I could holler back, "That's all for now. It's all put away." With the additional, "...again," muttered under my breath.
In a loving sort of way, of course.
And now, my food for thought today, "Is it wrong to need a coffee break first thing in the morning?" At first glance, the answer is quite obviously an assured, "Yes. You haven't done anything yet. What do you need a coffee break for?"
But when I think in terms of the volume of everything in my life, I'm a bit more forgiving. I get up and immediately get breakfast on for eleven persons every morning. I rush around making sure six of those persons are ready for the bus at 7:07.
Between breakfast and that 7:07 moment when they all run out the door, the typical cacophony around here sounds something like this, "Find your socks. Did you brush your teeth? Let me check your hair? Is your backpack ready? Go change that shirt, it's not appropriate."
Probably also a, "Mom, I don't have any socks?" And my reply, "I didn't get them sorted yet, sorry, you'll have to dig in the sock box." (or insert missing clothing item of your choice, and an appropriate maternal response.)
In between the above will inevitably be a couple of older kid concerns, "Mom, I need a lunch for the knowledge bowl meet today?" Or "Did you sign my permission slip for the ski trip." Or my favorite, of course, "Do you have money for ...?" (fill in the blank with whatever).
And then there's the stuck zipper, missing gloves or hats or snow pants, wet boot liners, etc.
Once they are out the door, I breath a huge sigh of relief. I only sometimes have energy to clear the table before pouring that lovely cup of soothing warm brew, and settling down in the living room with a good book.
I guess it's not really too indulgent when described that way.
In fact, I think I need another coffee break just writing about it.