Three Little Birds

                      

I have been pecked alive by three little birds for the past five days.  Hubs was out-of-town for a conference and I think someone may have laced my littles' cereal with Red Dye #42.  The running monologue in my home, by yours truly was, "Holy Toledo", "Are you kidding me?", "Do you understand?" and my all-time fave, "No begging, whining or unkindness."

I hope you'll understand that this post is part-venting, part-comic relief and part- joy that Hubs is home.  Though, this week was like we were in the Twilight Zone.  I realize that we have our bad days but this was re-donk-u-lous.  Yes, I just used that term because there is no other way to describe it.  

Special K found no other way but to ask me question after question of when the next meal was, if anyone was coming over and if he could play the Wii.  Mind you, this is a daily occurrence in our house.  But these last several days were tainted with a whine that I had never witnessed in such succession.  As of last night I wanted to shoot our Wii in the middle of the console and watch it explode into a million little pieces.  

Noodle-girl fell limp on the floor in a dead-weight tantrum right before my parents left this afternoon.  They came to celebrate her birthday, which is tomorrow.  And she decided she would test me in front of them to show what a special Mommy I was.  

Littlest-little has taken signing "Please" to a whole new level.  He paces the house, banging his chest saying, "Peas (please), mo (more), mo, peas, peas, peas, peas."  His belly is a bottomless pit as he ravages anything in site.  Our plastic play food has nothing on him.

I am thrilled that Hubs is asleep, next to me in bed while I sit and write.  A complete antithesis of last night.  Twenty four hours ago, exactly, I was standing hostage in our downstairs bathroom, paralyzed in fear.  I was getting ready for bed with Hubs on the line.  All of the sudden, there were three loud bangs on our front door.  I could feel all the blood in my body rush down to my toes as I stood still.  Who the heck knocks on your door at 11:40 at night, let alone bang on it?  No Hubs, three little kiddos, me - stuck in the bathroom.  No fear, we prayed and then I made Hubs call the Non-Emergency Police line.  He told them the situation and they said they would patrol the area and call me back.  Thirty minutes later, mind you, a very nice policeman told me he was sorry to have called so late but had something else come up.  You mean to tell me that a crazed Mama feeling threatened by vicious banging on the door late at night is not warrant for arrest??  I did finally exit the bathroom after I came to my senses before I got his call.

That nice cop did tell me that he saw a couple kids riding their bikes in the neighborhood and asked them if they saw anyone.  Um, hey brilliant parents of those kids:  did you know they were riding their bikes outside in the freezing cold a little before midnight?!

What is my point to this story, you ask?  I. Don't. Know.  I just thought I might share that I am loonier than I began, at this thing called motherhood.  I am more tired tonight than I was last night, at 1AM, praying that God would protect my precious littles and hoping that the Maglite on the floor would be sufficient to fend off any crazies that wanted to break in.  And Mama is a little stronger today for being given the opportunity to be pecked-to-death by some really darn cute younglings.