Monday not so fun day

When I woke up this morning, there was a visitor in our bedroom. At some point during the night, S had woken up and dragged her pillow and blanket into our bedroom and slept on our floor. Neither of us heard her.


When T woke up this morning, someone apparently immediately hit him with the grumpy stick. Of course, the house was much warmer than usual last night and we had some pretty severe thunderstorms, so I don't know if both of the kids had a bad night's sleep or what. But when the first words out of their mouths are "Don't look at me!!!!::extended whiny sound::" when they are standing right in front of you and they put themselves there, I know it's probably going to be a long day.



Time for plan B.


I offered yesterday to ask to extend their day camp from half day to whole day this week because apparently all the really fun stuff happens in the afternoon - like swimming and lots organized games. In anticipation of this, I get all their stuff packed. Lunches, change of clothes, swim suits and towels. The kids are all excited about the possibility of staying all day at camp. I'm excited about this too, but for an entirely different reason. Turns out they can, in fact, stay all day. Fabulous!

After I worked out and once I paid for the extra day camp time, I headed home to get some "stuff" done. On the way home 'stuff' was laundry, dusting, finish unpacking, sweeping out the garage, sweep and/or mop the floors, clean the bathrooms, get all the fingerprints off the windows and mirrors and whatever other domestic bliss inducing chores I could come up with.

Once I actually got home? I started laundry, cleaned the toilets and showers (if by cleaning you accept spraying with bathroom cleaner, hosing off, and wiping down), and decided that I was going to have a little me time. I have some overdue library books and I was almost finished with two of them. Of course, once I sat down to read for about an hour I promptly fell asleep. Sigh. I woke up in time to switch out the laundry and was heading to do a quick sweep of the floor when I saw....ants. Lots of ants. Ewww. And in trying to figure out where they are coming from (I thought maybe around a drain or something) I discovered it looks like they are coming from underneath the carpet in the living room. And that? Is NOT going to work for me. Sorry ants, but you are going to have to die.

I went to pick up the kids and we went to the store to get a few necessary items and ant killers. I bought bait traps and borax. I'm planning to put the borax down around the outside perimeter of the house. That actually requires going outside, though, so it may take me a day or two. Or fifteen. Or - I could just call housing and whine about ants. But then I'll have to clean the house first because perish the thought of housing coming in when the house isn't spotless. What can I say? I am my mother's daughter.

With the bait traps down, I started dinner. And by starting dinner, I mean I put a frozen meal in the microwave and pushed cook. I'm domestic that way. Especially after a long day of reading and napping. Add some frozen peas (which I do actually cook before serving - usually) and some sliced peaches, and we have a relatively well balanced meal. Everyone should be happy, right?

No. Not even close.

S fell asleep on the 5 mile ride home from the commissary, T wanted to wake her up which I didn't have a problem with, but I did have a problem with him waking her up by alternating pokes and head shoves. So, I made him come in the house. Next thing I know, T is on his hands and knees watching the ants and telling them not to go in the bait house because "it will be the last house you ever visit". heh! Where does he come up with this stuff?

We finally managed to wake S up right as dinner finished cooking/heating. T sees me stirring the pasta, and freaks out. He wants mac and cheese. My attempts to sell him on the pasta bake as a form of mac and cheese fails miserably. This brings on a massive meltdown, complete with throwing things, shouting, pounding on the floor, screaming and crying, and general civil disobedience.

Of course, S who is now awake and none too happy about it, throws in her two cents of tantrum. R and I? We sit down and eat dinner together, all calm-like, as if we don't have two insane, screaming, out of control preschoolers flinging themselves about the house demanding macaroni and cheese and milk.

In the course of the tantrum? R and I get grounded by T and told we are never going to get to have mac and cheese again. EVER. NOT EVER. Or watch TV. Or do anything fun.

Yeah, we kinda figured that out a couple years ago, kiddo.