Oh ma gah. Life is driving me crazy. I feel like all I do is wait at the door so we can leave the house but while I wait I'm also forced to tell people over and over - "Put on your shoes. You too. Wait, no, you had your shoes on, what happened? Put on your shoes." With one kid it was manageable, with two a bit more difficult, with three, forget about being anywhere on time and sane. Even when we're leaving to go somewhere fun they can still suck the life force from me so that by the time we make it to pulling out of the parking lot I'm really not in the mood to bother with having fun.
Violet is the worst. She has to very carefully choose her outfit for the day, one piece at a time, with some sort of dance maneuvers happening in between (this is for another blog post, but she has some serious Elaine Benes action going on). Plus there is the eternal Violet monologue we have to listen to - she constantly chatters at us, although, it is interspersed with nonsensical singing. You might recognize some of the lyrics from various Spongebob episodes or Disney Princess songs, or Glee cover of a Cee Lo Green song - but there will be absolutely no recognizable tune. Once the clothes are picked out, then you have to go through the agony of actually getting them on her body. At least she willingly brushes her teeth (once she finally makes it to the bathroom), with Zoey it's practically like waterboarding - actually that might be an easier way to get her teeth clean.
When it's time for shoes, you have to wait for her to find the perfect pair and thanks to a wonderful friend who sends us beautiful hand-me-downs, we have about a dozen choices. They have to be put on the wrong feet, every single time. I know she knows what shoe goes on which foot, but this is part of her whole schtick. I tell her to switch them, then she comes back after taking both shoes off and then putting them both back on the wrong feet again and sweetly says, "Is this the right foot?"
With the shoes finally on, we open the front door. Wait, wait, wait. A toy has to come with us. It's a different toy every time and it's always always a toy that requires a search party. Every once in a while I get frustrated enough to say, "No toy! Let's go!" But the crying and tantrums that ensue are usually not worth it. So, find the toy, head to the car where she has to do the seat belt herself except I have to tighten it because she's still in a 5-point harness thing and can't reach the belt to pull it tight, so I have to stand there tapping my toes trying not to lose my mind. (And don't forget, while all this is happening with just Violet, I'm also fielding all the crap that the other two are throwing at me.)
Finally, I'm in the driver's seat where I realize I've forgotten to bring the crucial whatever that the whole trip out of the house was about, so I have to run back inside and find it.
Ah, now we're on the road. It's 10:30am, we've been up since 6:00am - only four and a half hours between boarding the space shuttle to crazy and lift-off, not too bad.
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