This morning had a touch of the 3 rings to it. No, not like the 5 Rings of athletic prowess and patriotism, it was more like the 3 Rings of chaos and disorder caused by children.
I got the kids through the morning routine and out to the van with a minimum of fuss. Except for the fact that they both decided they wanted Cheerios (which I had) instead of the cereal they had chosen. So when I finally got to sit down to eat, I ended up emptying my bowl into theirs to avoid having to get up, yet again. That was minor except for the fact that I had hardly anything to eat.
Then we hopped in the car and they insisted on playing my least favourite car game ever. Hide and seek. No, they don’t get out of their seats, they just pull blankets over their heads and I’m supposed to pretend that they are suddenly not in the van anymore, and then feign great surprise when they pull the blankets off to reveal that they are actually there. This game is impossible for any adult to participate in without significant levels of sarcasm.
Then I heard the dreaded words from my 4 year old. “Mommy, I have to go poo!”
“Can you wait?” I pleaded.
“No Mommy, now!”
Of course this happens at exactly the halfway point between home and daycare and there are very few pit stop options en route. I squealed into the only gas station along the way. It was a small one so I ran in to make sure they really had a bathroom before unloading both children. No such luck.
I raced back to the car and squealed back onto the road, just in time for the longest red light on the face of the earth.
“Mommy, I really have to poo!”
“Just hold on!”
One block up was the Tim Hortons. I pulled into a parking spot just outside the door, unloaded the kids, realized that the door was an exit only door and had to drag them both to the opposite side of the building, push through the crowd in front of the counter, and made my way back towards the bathrooms which were right next to that damn exit door.
My son freaked out about going into the women’s washroom, so naturally I yelled at him to “just get in here NOW!” I closed the door, locked it, whipped down his pants, set him on the toilet, and…. nothing.
He sat there for about 10 seconds and tried to get up.
“You will sit there until you go poo!”
“I don’t have to go poo mommy.”
I pulled up his pants, unlocked the door, grabbed some tiny hands and dragged them over to the exit door. All of a sudden dear little girl decided she wanted to stay and play at Tim Hortons. Not happening.
I picked her up, grabbed his hands, dragged all of us out the door and to the van. My son got in nicely enough, but little missy decided to have a meltdown. You know the kind where they twist and turn and writhe so that you can’t get them strapped into a car seat meltdowns? That kind. So we had a little Olympic-worthy wrestling match, followed by an enraged de-shoeing and sock removal, followed by wailing, all the way to daycare.
They were happy enough to let mommy leave them at daycare. So I drove off to get my drive through coffee and substitute breakfast only to find an unusually large line up. I figured I could park, run in, and get out and beat the last car in line. I parked, ran in, and found an even bigger line up inside.
End of story, I got to work harried, hungry, and decaffeinated. It’s probably a good thing I have my own office, with a door.