Except for the fact that I look like a train wreck most days. I can't reasonably figure out a system to complete the entire getting ready process in one sitting without actually having one child murder another. Since I'm kind of partial to them all, it's not really an option, but if I were a betting kind of girl, my money would be on the small one. I'm a total cliche-the mom with the hair in the proverbial ponytail- usually covered in some little person's extraneous body fluids.
Bathing is the one thing that's really hard to accomplish. Today, I brought some toys up to their room, gated it, drew a bath, rearranged the furniture in a way that I thought they couldn't climb it, and then shouted orders down the hallway as I shaved my legs. "Don't hurt your sister! Leave her alone! Just play for five more minutes! Oh! For Pete's Sake!" Until MissAngelLittleGirl shouted that Ella was using the dresser for a stage and I ran, naked and dripping wet down the hallway, much to the delight of the dog, who thought we were now playing a game. For some reason, towels never unfold fast enough when there's a dancing emergency, and it took me all of thirty seconds to get myself covered decently enough to begin negotiations with the child that was doing an exuberant jig on top of the top of the highest chest of drawers in their room.
They saw that I had moved the furniture, and if I could do it, they could, too!
This is never good. The entire room was rearranged so that it created a reasonably slanted hill/slide of furniture, and all the bedding and most of their (clean) clothes had been mounded at the bottom. So yeah, they were climbing the furniture than sliding down it into the pile of clothes.
Little Miss actually had the nerve to complain that their slide was bumpy.
The baby intensified her dancing, squealing at the thought of my discomfort, and the subsequent snatch and cuddle scenario that was about to occur predictably. We've done this before, you know.
No children were harmed in the writing of this blog. I'm still laughing too hard to be mad- I just want to know what you do with your children while you get cleaned up? Do you just give in to the filth? Bathe after they are in bed? Get up before the chickens? Tie them to a ceiling in a cage box like the go go dancers used to perform in?