And then the tides turn

Shit.

Just when I'm certain we're finally all coasting on the same smooth path, the sidewalk ends, and we tumble into a dark and mysterious crapstorm in which I find it hard to see the boys' inner lights.

Sometimes this happens with one child but not the other, but on extra-special occasions, like today, we all fall together. 

It's possible this started yesterday when the exceedingly loose tooth Oliver's had for weeks now went down his gullet. I'd been warning him of the possibility of swallowing or losing that bad boy if he didn't let me pull it, but no dice. And then one bite on a Nutella-coated breadstick, and away went the tooth. 

Sobs wracked his body. "How will I get the tooth back? Can I use a baby potty and look in my poop? Let me call Poppy."

Now Poppy, my dad, is a gastroenterologist, and so really, it was wise of Oliver to think of calling Poppy to discuss the possibility of reclaiming the tooth. I'll give him that. But...

"Hi Poppy, it's Oliver. Can you tell me how to strain my poop?"

I swear to y'all that was the actual telephone conversation opener. Poppy said he could send a strainer but I refused delivery. I don't need to indulge this craziness, y'all. That tooth is gone!

Additional Nutella-crusted carbs plus one of his best buddies being over to play (and, might I add, looking rather askance as Oliver wailed about poop straining) plus the excitement over his class play being this morning helped appease the tragic feelings. He was cast as Gorilla 1. 

Hours later, Jack could.not.sleep. and so I ended up reading Belly Up (Stuart Gibbs, natch) to him until nearly 10. This is all well and good except that Jack is a hangry bear when he's sleep-deprived, and so I reckoned I (and he) would pay for the late night today.

I was right. 

The boys were wild animals from the time I picked them up at school until the time I stormed downstairs hours later and told Tom he best leave the grill to me and DEAL with those children. Our neighborhood is hosting a multi-house community yard sale tomorrow, and I spent a huge swath of time today organizing, cleaning and pricing things AND making a preposterous number of extremely delicious chocolate chip (milk and dark) cookies for the boys' lemonade-and-cookie stand. They want to earn some money and donate a third of all their proceeds to The Fresh Air Fund, and I fully support their endeavor. 

But still, y'all. Those cookies don't make themselves. And a mad-eyed fatigued child who will not put down the giant branch that fell from the tree during yet another rainstorm but instead waves it about like a poky javelin and has zero awareness of just how much of said poky javelin is flailing behind him, nearly decapitating you, is really not the optimal icing on the cake.

Long story short, it is the whiplash feeling I experienced between Monday-Thursday and today that I tire of and which blindsides me in the worst way. It's exhausting. Parenting is so inconsistent and yet so consistently taxing, and really, that is a tough and often disappointing energy suck. It is for me, at least.

I give my kids my all every day, and sometimes, it's hard to keep going. It really is. I don't remember the last time I had a real break from parenting in any significant way, and that is awfully wearing at times. 

Did I mention that I also found out today that my identity was stolen last weekend and used to purchase more than $2000 worth of goods at J.C Penney and Toys "R" Us? What morally bankrupt asshat pretended to be me?

Anyway, this scrumptious meal and a decent amount of wine smoothed out this feisty Friday. 
*While you might think "butt" when you see that darling potato in the bottom right corner, I want you to see "heart." Just that.

The sun actually showed itself which was exceedingly remarkable given that it has been in hiding most of the past sixteen days. I joked recently about my grass turning, alchemically, into slugs, but I today found that for real, two of my doormats are sprouting like chia pets. It has got to dry up!

Coconut Cream Pie

I just can't hold off any longer. Today is the day a coconut cream pie will be made over here! Mamma mia. After the failed muffins last night, I need a sure thing in the dessert department. I really miss Oliver's naps. It drives me mad to watch him refuse something he so desperately needs and to then pack up to go somewhere with him and then watch as he immediately falls asleep in the car. Eff! After picking him up this morning, I made us lunch and then we gardened for a while. After an hour or so, unable to stand the chattering and mosquitoes, we headed inside, and I told him he'd have to play by himself for a while. Mr. Independent 3 said, "No, I just won't do that." Who is kidding me. Ignoring him commenced, and after 10 minutes of scaling my body as if it were some rock wall, he finally threw in the towel and pout-slouched over to the Legos. He has realized that Legos are fun. Um, hel-lo?!! This is why they've been a popular toy for oh, I don't know, ever.

Jack's play was a-DORable this morning. The teachers really did a fabulous job writing it, and the children were awesome performers. Imagine 24 little voices singing Madonna's "Like a Prayer" re-worded to describe looking for a friend who went missing when she wished on a magic turkey feather and turned into a raindrop. Hilarious and darling.

Ok, off to make lemon curd. Tomorrow will be a massive cooking fest over here in prep for the baby shower on Sunday. Strawberry cake, chocolate almond cake, blueberry-peach tart, tea sandwiches, quinoa salad, shaved asparagus and mint, scones, rose  jam, and the lemon curd. Beautiful and delicious, yes?

Tornado-like Tuesday

That's just the best "T" word I could conjure to describe the marathon that has been today thus far. It all started this morning, somewhere in the mid-5's when I heard Jack rustling about and then felt his breath warm on my face. I pretended to remain asleep but he actually gave my nose a gentle poke and asked permission to search for coloring pages on my computer. Assuming it was after 6:15 -his official you-may-now-wake-us time- I said sure. I couldn't quite get back to sleep so finally glanced over the my clock. 6:01a. Awful. I was not pleased. I must have then dozed for about 3 minutes, because the next thing I knew, Oliver was jumping around in the hall with a ginormous poopie diaper and wearing his red felt cowboy hat that kind of makes him look like an organ grinder monkey. Apparently, he had climbed out of his crib, gleefully donned has hat, left his room but not yet mustered the courage to enter our room. It still wasn't 6:15, and I felt pretty sure I was in for a longish day.

Jack was a sleep-deprived hellion this morning and within 30 minutes of getting out of bed, the zen I was feeling over the weekend was squashed like squirrel hit by a Mack truck. During this downward spiral, strawberry-lavender muffin making commenced, and really, that was the high point of the morning until a friend and I went to a party warehouse to get supplies for a faculty appreciation lunch. This was fun, but then it was over, and Ol and I trucked off to the market and then home to finish up the strawberry-rhubarb jam I started yesterday. It is beautiful but because I am still so unpracticed with my new camera, this picture is the pits. At least the jam itself tastes fantastically.

Speaking of my camera, session 1 (last night) of the photography class I'm taking was terrific. I definitely know what aperture, ISO and shutter speed are now, and that's a good start. I've diagnosed that my white balance is off but haven't a clue what to do about it. Hopefully that's a topic in class quite soon.

As I've successfully plowed through the enormous amounts of rhubarb and strawberries I  bought at Sunday's FM, I now turn to the gorgeous chard I also acquired. Fortunately, in my Mother's Day state-o'-peace, I had the presence of mind to wash and dry the chard. This will really help this evening when I know I'll just want to park it on the couch with a huge honking glass of calm. I'm thinking about a greens and leek pie in a cornmeal crust, but we'll see.

Funny story: I asked Jack what kind of party he wanted for his birthday - police, wild west, whatever. He said "Titanic." Can you imagine anything more depressing? I said, "Jack, we cannot have a party about a ship that sinks and lots of people die in freezing water because idiots didn't pack enough life boats."