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The Daily Grind

 We all seemed to be a little salty this morning.  It might be that we were all crashing after a massive sugar high from last night's birthday cake.  Nonetheless, the day started with much screaming and gnashing of teeth.  The screaming came from the girls.  I was the teeth.  The boys were the instigators. They already have a way of pushing buttons, and the girls are barely two.  They act innocent, but I was a middle child.  I know exactly what they are doing.  

Fischer sits behind Carter's high chair and rests his feet on the base.  Then he gives it a teeny tiny push, and she loses her mind.  Sawyer stands in front of her chair and looks at her...and she loses her mind.  She's a little sensitive before she gets something in her belly.  I know she is being ridiculous, but the boys know what they are doing, and her screaming sends me through the roof.  Emerson is even worse.  She doesn't want the boys in any part of her personal bubble or she gives them a vocal lashing. It's really special.  And loud.  Every morning.  

They are better after they eat.  

The boys, however, don't reset until they go outside.  Frankly, we are getting up too early and it's getting light too late for that to be healthy for any of us.  Today, they fought over who could lift a box of wipes the most then they fought over the box.  Yesterday, it was a box of diapers.  I told them they were embarrassing themselves, but I don't think they believed me.  I should have recorded it on my phone.  They might have at least stopped the fighting long enough to watch.  

It did get better.  It got light.  I sent the boys outside to do chores which of course, they were not happy about, but then they were outside.  Winner, winner.  

We were just off today.  It got better, and then it got worse, and then better again.  We couldn't get in a rhythm.  I decided we should go to town for groceries.  Maybe not the best idea with four kids out of sync, but it did mean I could catch a break from chasing the twin tornedos for an a hour or so.  

I realized we were really missing the beat, when we piled out of the van and Fischer had his boots on the wrong feet, and they weren't even the same boots.  One was a blue rubber boot and one was a fireman themed rainboot.  We pulled his pants over the top of them (he didn't understand why) and rolled with it.  If you walk with confidence, people don't notice, right?  Well, hopefully we walked with a enough confidence that they didn't notice I had also left the house without finishing my morning routine.  On the way home, I looked in the rearview mirror and thought, "crap."  I meant to go back into my bathroom before leaving the house, but things distracted me.  Four of them.  My chapped, puffy, congested face had zero make-up, and I hadn't even brushed my hair.  Classy lady.  Luckily, we live where there is a good chance you will see people you know.  

Back at home, I thought we were making positive progress when Emerson, sitting in my lap, sweetly leaned in to give me an unexpected kiss, but instead of a kiss she spit her chewed up apple peel on me.  In that moment it occurred to me the day wasn't going to get better.  It was just going to get over.  Eventually.  

Some days you just grind.  

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