Gray hair

Here I am. Sitting at the computer again to post my woes of being a mom. Today was nuts. Brad went golfing this morning and left me alone with the kids. Just like a weekday. It's so hard not to totally guilt him out for leaving me. I decided to try and accomplish something while he was gone to pass the time more quickly, and it was a beautiful day, so I gathered the kids up to go outside and rake leaves. "Mommy needs your help", I said. "Let's go outside, get your shoes on."
Alright. I have four little hands to help me get the leaves into that annoying garbage bag that you need to be an octpus to keep open. Well, unfortunately after 2 or 3 handfuls, my little helpers suddenly didn't want to help Mommy anymore. Bummer, Daddy has to pick them up I guess, I'll just do the raking. We had a few lessons incorparated into the leaf gathering. A dead dove in the grass prompted the "not a sparrow falls that I don't know about" conversation. God is good, and "I am who I am" needs to be awknowledged at any teachable moment, right?
Well, during the raking part, I realized Olivia was suddenly MIA. Hmmm. I catch a glimpse of her in the house, with an interesting look on her face.
"Olivia, do you need to go poo poo?" (insert apologies to my pre-mommy readers, your time is coming).
All I get is a blank stare.
"Olivia, did you go poo poo in your underwear?"
Her response is a head shaking no... but I am not convinced. I went back to raking the leaves anyway, in denial of the obvious.
Olivia walked outside and I went to check her out. Sure enough, she lied to me... again.
I let her sit in it while I finished up and prodded her about how it felt to sit in her poo. I know, horrible, but I'm not sure how to get through to this kid about deciding it's ok to do this...
Anyway, this post is not supposed to be about potty training (but any suggestions are encouraged)
So I took Olivia upstairs to the shower and while spraying her off, I was praying silently that Coton was not announcing to the neighbors that his momma had abandoned him (he was in his exersaucer on the deck in the back yard) while the momma's ears were occupied with the sound of water and screams of a two year old.
Fortunately, CPS didn't come knocking on my door, so I'm assuming Colton kept his secret to himself. Shortly after I returned downstairs with a wet, sniffling child, we started lunch. Ahh, yes, the time of day that I have to choose my battles. Do I make 1 lunch and create one happy child, 2 different lunches to equal 2 happy children, or 3 different lunches to make both kids and me happy? Well, today, it wouldn't have mattered. When Olivia was crying about the injustice of only having 2 chicken nuggets, and Colton was spitting banana-berry baby food all over me in protest while screaming, I almost lost it.
After cradling my head in my hands, and secretly hoping Brad would walk into the middle of this war-zone and never leave me alone again, I grabbed the tray off Colton's high chair, scooped up the sputtering mess, and carried him all the way up to his room. I figured he was safer in his bed, then at the mercy of my fraying wits.
Then, after attempting to answer my little 2 year old fool according to her folly (another bible reference...Jessica, my walking concordance friend would know the book, chapter and verse), I realized that a spanking was in order, not a discussion. Amazingly, she changed her attitude shortly thereafter and those chicken nuggets became the best thing she'd ever eaten.
As soon as everything was under control once again, my sweet hubby walked through the door.

If the next time you see me I have a few wild gray hairs, please don't point them out to me.