"Took 25 minutes to get all dressed up, and we ain't even gonna make it to this club."

Those of you who caught the Beyonce reference in the title may be disappointed that this posting is not about sex. If ever I do grow the cojones to go there, it'll probably be in the far future entitled, "Naked and Afraid." Do people actually watch that show?

This posting is less about the act of making small children and more about the act of getting ready with small children. When discussing this subject matter there are two things that come to mind. First, was the time I tried to get myself and my children ready to go to my husband's Cross Fit competition called Boxtoberfest. I think it is very important for the boys to watch their father being active and competitive, so despite the difficulty in taking three children to a busy public event on my own, I decided that it was worth the struggle.

My biggest mistake was getting the boys ready before myself. I was thinking, if I feed, burp and change Rory after I get dressed there is always a chance he will spit up on my clothes or in my hair and if I change Liam's diaper on the floor, my pants would be covered in dog hair. So, I decided to get the kids ready, put the two older ones in front of the tv and the baby in the bathroom with me while I showered.

This is what went down: 

 

The boys have a crazy love-hate relationship. One minute they are chillin on the couch the next minute fighting over a toy and usually it ends in one or both crying and potentially some blood. Yes, I said blood. My kids are beasts...They are most definitely related to my husband.

So, I'm lathering up my hair with shampoo, feeling a not-so-lovely cold draft (because I kep't the door open in case someone needs me). When suddenly I hear WWIII break out in the living room. How or why I don't know, but within seconds of this, the baby wakes up and the screaming cry he lets out tells me he is hungry. 

Although, I hadn't had a chance to shave my legs in days, I had to cut the shower short and jump out. I grabbed a towel and went sprinting toward the chaos. Jacson was elbowing Liam as Liam was trying to bite him for taking his toy. I go into battle mode, grab the little one off the big one and sit them both on the couch for a good scolding.

Here's our conversation: 

 

Me: "You will never leave this house if you do not get along, long enough for me to get ready! Stop touching each other. Just watch the show, no more fighting!" 

In unison: "Yes, Ma'aaaaaam." 

Me: "Jacson, repeat back to me what I just said." 

Long pause...he had to come up with something as he hadn't heard a thing. 

Jac: "Ummmm...don't be loud?"

Me:"Nope, go to time out for not listening."

Jac: "wait, wait , wait mommy, was it don't spill water on the table???"

Me: "What? No Jacson, go to time-out!"

Insert total melt-down. Time out is the WORST thing ever, his life is over as we know it. He will now be screaming out his bedroom window, "No mommy!" for the next twenty minutes and my neighbors will think I'm beating him even though I'm across the house.

Sounds cute huh? My children say "yes ma'am." I smile every time I hear this. but if I'm being honest, usually when Jac says it I think he means, "ok lady, shut up already." He has grown the ability to look me in the eyes and not hear a word that comes out of my mouth. I now force him to repeat everything back to me just to make sure he's listening. I also get a kick out of watching him struggle to make up what I've said because sometimes he's way off.  Liam on the other hand, is just now learning the yes ma'am no ma'am business, which can be extremely amusing because he says "yes ma'am" to my husband as well! My husband gets mad and yells "sir! mommy is ma'am, I am sir!" hehe.

Back to the story:

 

Hearing Rory still crying in the bathroom, I realize that not only is my wet hair dripping down my back, but apparently my boobs clicked on autopilot and I had been leaking milk all over the carpet and my newly cleansed self this entire time. AWESOME.

So I go get the baby, feed him, burp him, change him, put him in the bouncy seat. Jacson's quiet so I release him from the eternal pit of despair and I check on Liam who is very nicely seated on the couch practicing his ABC's with Elmo. 

Sweet, now I can blow dry my hair. It takes about 5 minutes to do this. I throw on some Pacifica Alight Multi-Mineral BB Cream- It's awesome stuff, barely there shade matching, vegan/all natural and some mascara. Lets say this took me another 5 minutes.

Then it hit me. It's quiet, It's too quiet...I go check on the kids. Jacson has pulled off all 15 couch cushions and was hiding underneath them. I ask him where Liam is and he starts throwing the cushions, jumping around, and obnoxiously fake laughing as loud as he possibly can. I had no idea that my couch cushions were lined with crack. 

I hear something in the hall. So I turn the corner and notice Liam had shut himself in the hall bathroom and the door was locked! I try to use my fingernail to unlock the door, but it broke so I frantically ran around looking for a penny. I mean, who keeps coins anymore? Found one in the laundry room, unlocked the door and there stood my two year old, covered from head to toe in blue, bubblegum flavored TOOTHPASTE.

This was upsetting. Not only did we have to be somewhere in twenty minutes, but the shirt he had on was a CrossFit shirt that had been given to him by one of my husband's oldest friends who now owns Arbor CrossFit in Idaho. I thought it to be the perfect attire for a CrossFit event. I pulled it off his body, scrubbed off the toothpaste and threw it in the dryer. washed his arms and face, sprayed his head with de-tangler and used the residual toothpaste as a sort of yummy smelling hair gel.   

It is now time for me to get dressed. 

 

You know, the fun part when I get to stare at all the clothes I no longer fit into in my closet and choose which item will be most appropriate for the event, but more importantly flattering to my still enlarged uterus. 

After trying on a few different outfits, I realize we have to leave. The heat is 10 minutes long, if I don't make it there in time, I'm likely to miss him and all this work would be for nothing. So I go into mom mode, grab one of my husband's white t-shirts. One of the ones he no longer wears because it shrunk in the wash. I know this is one of them because I made up a few mnemonics to remember which brand is which. Moreno is moronic because it shrinks, while Fruit of the Loom is Fruit of my loins and Jockey is Jock strap as both brands reach the appropriate length of my husband's torso and end somewhere closer to the groin region. My husband thinks I'm an idiot.

Any way, I grab the Moronic shirt, cut the neck off and threw it on over a pair of skinny jeans with one of those belly bands so I didn't have to button them over my c-section wound. I have now invented a casual off the shoulder, baggy, t-shirt that can give Rory easy access when hungry. BOOM. Comfort and convenience over fashion ladies. 

So now you see why getting ready to go somewhere is quite the task with multiple small children. I was exhausted before I even left the house. Even with one baby, prepping to leave the house can be difficult, which brings me to the second thing that popped in my mind earlier in this post. 

If you haven't seen the movie Neighbors with Seth Rogan and Zac Efron (and you like gross humor) you have to. Yes there are a ton of drug references because it's Seth Rogan and he was practically born in a bong so you have to get over that, but ultimately this movie made my husband and I laugh hysterically as it had a ton of truth to it. The scene where the parents are trying to get their baby ready to go to a rave, which is ridiculously unrealistic, but hilarious just the same, ended fabulously with both parents sleeping in the foyer completely missing the rave. My husband and I have cancelled last minute after getting ready many times. Hope you enjoyed the post and here is a clip from Neighbors!