Arrrggghhtlirlkjfptstttt!!! or, in other words, Why Everything Takes Me At Least 90 Times Longer Than It Ought To
It's been an afternoon.
Let me tell you about it.
My goal after naptime today was simple: vacuum out the car and wipe down the inside.
That's it.
About a 5-minute job, you say? Simple, you say?
Try doing it with three "helpers."
I start out by shooing the kids out into the yard with the garage open, then go back inside to grab my flipflops.
I come outside to a naked Jack who has just POOPED on the ground.
"Arrrrgghtouit," I sigh, tell him to go inside, wipe, and get dressed again.
I clean up the poop, get the Shop Vac out, and decide that, since I haven't emptied it out for a while, I better do that before using it.
"Aarrgghtlijrlptlliluo!!" I open it to be greeted by the smell of death. Someone has vacuumed up approximately 2 liters of water, sludge (and apparently small animals judging by the smell of it), and left it in there long enough to start growing a small ecosystem.
Starting to get irritated, I take it outside, dump the toxic waste out in the backyard (luckily, we still have open trenches that are great for that kind of thing), then turn on the hose.
Clark immediately starts begging me to fill up the kiddie pool (ha--I accidently typed the words "kiddie poop" there. Guess what I've been dealing with a lot lately?), to which I have to kindly say no. It's way too windy for me to allow my just-getting-over-a-nasty-cold-and-ear-infection toddler to douse himself with water. I might as well beg for the medical bills to start piling up again now.
He starts to throw a fit.
I ignore him, use the hose to rinse off the filter, and then set the hose down to get the rest of the Shop Vac. I turn around to get a face full of water--Clark has gleefully picked up the hose and is now spraying me with it.
"Argghlffrfhgl--" I say as I reach to grab the hose away from him....he resumes screaming.
I continue to ignore him, rinse out the rest of the Shop Vac, and then set the hose down to get Maggie away from the electric cord she's started chewing on.
I turn around to get another face full of water.
"Argglfhlifhtffttt!!" I run and turn off the hose, which sets Clark to screaming yet again.
I put the Shop Vac back together, then realize it's been at least five minutes since I've seen Jack....and that's never a good thing.
I go into the house, leaving a screaming Clark with Maggie, who is now contentedly eating handfuls of dirt outside.
I hear singing in the bathroom, and think, "That's a good sign--" as I round the corner to see Jack, still stark naked, standing on the toothpaste-covered counter, holding a now-empty tube of toothpaste, a very-enthusiastically toothpasted toothbrush, and singing as he brushes his teeth.
He still hasn't wiped, by the way.
"ARRrgbhghtthpt!!!" I shout, pulling him off the counter and pointing him towards the toilet paper.
"Clean this up. Wipe your bottom. Get dressed. NOW."
Jack starts crying.
I leave to go check on my other two children outside.
Note: at this point, it has been roughly 25 minutes since I started my project of vacuuming out the car. I have yet to turn the vacuum on.
Maggie is still happily eating dirt, and Clark has turned on the hose again and is filling up the kiddie pool, which he is standing in.
I turn off the hose and staunch the inevitable screaming that follows by offering to let Clark vacuum the car (that kid loves to vacuum).
"Okay!!" He gleefully agrees, then follows me into the garage.
I plug in the vacuum and open the door of the car, only to realize that there is too much clutter and garbage to start vacuuming.
I turn off the vacuum, which, of course, makes Clark cry.
"Hang on, buddy--we just have to clean out the trash first--" I start to say, as Jack opens the door triumphantly.
"I wiped, Mom!!" He's still stark naked.
"Good for you, Big guy!!" I smile enthusiastically.
He beams.
"Now, go get dressed!"
His face falls as he dejectedly goes back into the house.
I follow him, grab a couple of shopping bags (I always keep a good 50,000 around, just in case of a situation like this), and run back to the garage to see that Clark has turned the vacuum on again and has vacuumed up no less than three socks, a stick, and a ream's worth of paper trash.
"ARfglkjrpoit!!" I shout, turn off the vacuum (which sets Clark to crying again), and start to clean out the now-stuffed hose.
Cleaning it out doesn't take too long, but by now, Maggie is fussy and wants me to hold her.
At this point, it's been 45 minutes since I started my project. Still haven't actually accomplished anything.
I hand out trash bags to Clark and the now-clothed Jack, who has just joined us but still smells faintly of poop ("Did I check to see how well he's wiped? Or if he's washed his hands?" I think guiltily). "C'mon, guys!" I say in a feeble attempt to sound enthusiastic. "Let's clean out all the trash!!"
We clean out all the trash.
Jack hits Clark with a stick.
"Arrghgliut. Apologize to your brother." I firmly make Jack apologize and hug and kiss Clark (who may or may not be overreacting).
I set Maggie down on the front seat of the car. She starts to fuss. I console her with an old toothbrush I found in the center console, and I start actually vacuuming.
Jack and Clark continue to sword fight outside, which is okay, because I can't hear the arguing over the vacuum.
I vacuum the car. It takes roughly five minutes.
Now, to wipe down the inside.
ARRRRggoiurlkpt.
Maybe tomorrow.
Let me tell you about it.
My goal after naptime today was simple: vacuum out the car and wipe down the inside.
That's it.
About a 5-minute job, you say? Simple, you say?
Try doing it with three "helpers."
I start out by shooing the kids out into the yard with the garage open, then go back inside to grab my flipflops.
I come outside to a naked Jack who has just POOPED on the ground.
"Arrrrgghtouit," I sigh, tell him to go inside, wipe, and get dressed again.
I clean up the poop, get the Shop Vac out, and decide that, since I haven't emptied it out for a while, I better do that before using it.
"Aarrgghtlijrlptlliluo!!" I open it to be greeted by the smell of death. Someone has vacuumed up approximately 2 liters of water, sludge (and apparently small animals judging by the smell of it), and left it in there long enough to start growing a small ecosystem.
Starting to get irritated, I take it outside, dump the toxic waste out in the backyard (luckily, we still have open trenches that are great for that kind of thing), then turn on the hose.
Clark immediately starts begging me to fill up the kiddie pool (ha--I accidently typed the words "kiddie poop" there. Guess what I've been dealing with a lot lately?), to which I have to kindly say no. It's way too windy for me to allow my just-getting-over-a-nasty-cold-and-ear-infection toddler to douse himself with water. I might as well beg for the medical bills to start piling up again now.
He starts to throw a fit.
I ignore him, use the hose to rinse off the filter, and then set the hose down to get the rest of the Shop Vac. I turn around to get a face full of water--Clark has gleefully picked up the hose and is now spraying me with it.
"Argghlffrfhgl--" I say as I reach to grab the hose away from him....he resumes screaming.
I continue to ignore him, rinse out the rest of the Shop Vac, and then set the hose down to get Maggie away from the electric cord she's started chewing on.
I turn around to get another face full of water.
"Argglfhlifhtffttt!!" I run and turn off the hose, which sets Clark to screaming yet again.
I put the Shop Vac back together, then realize it's been at least five minutes since I've seen Jack....and that's never a good thing.
I go into the house, leaving a screaming Clark with Maggie, who is now contentedly eating handfuls of dirt outside.
I hear singing in the bathroom, and think, "That's a good sign--" as I round the corner to see Jack, still stark naked, standing on the toothpaste-covered counter, holding a now-empty tube of toothpaste, a very-enthusiastically toothpasted toothbrush, and singing as he brushes his teeth.
He still hasn't wiped, by the way.
"ARRrgbhghtthpt!!!" I shout, pulling him off the counter and pointing him towards the toilet paper.
"Clean this up. Wipe your bottom. Get dressed. NOW."
Jack starts crying.
I leave to go check on my other two children outside.
Note: at this point, it has been roughly 25 minutes since I started my project of vacuuming out the car. I have yet to turn the vacuum on.
Maggie is still happily eating dirt, and Clark has turned on the hose again and is filling up the kiddie pool, which he is standing in.
I turn off the hose and staunch the inevitable screaming that follows by offering to let Clark vacuum the car (that kid loves to vacuum).
"Okay!!" He gleefully agrees, then follows me into the garage.
I plug in the vacuum and open the door of the car, only to realize that there is too much clutter and garbage to start vacuuming.
I turn off the vacuum, which, of course, makes Clark cry.
"Hang on, buddy--we just have to clean out the trash first--" I start to say, as Jack opens the door triumphantly.
"I wiped, Mom!!" He's still stark naked.
"Good for you, Big guy!!" I smile enthusiastically.
He beams.
"Now, go get dressed!"
His face falls as he dejectedly goes back into the house.
I follow him, grab a couple of shopping bags (I always keep a good 50,000 around, just in case of a situation like this), and run back to the garage to see that Clark has turned the vacuum on again and has vacuumed up no less than three socks, a stick, and a ream's worth of paper trash.
"ARfglkjrpoit!!" I shout, turn off the vacuum (which sets Clark to crying again), and start to clean out the now-stuffed hose.
Cleaning it out doesn't take too long, but by now, Maggie is fussy and wants me to hold her.
At this point, it's been 45 minutes since I started my project. Still haven't actually accomplished anything.
I hand out trash bags to Clark and the now-clothed Jack, who has just joined us but still smells faintly of poop ("Did I check to see how well he's wiped? Or if he's washed his hands?" I think guiltily). "C'mon, guys!" I say in a feeble attempt to sound enthusiastic. "Let's clean out all the trash!!"
We clean out all the trash.
Jack hits Clark with a stick.
"Arrghgliut. Apologize to your brother." I firmly make Jack apologize and hug and kiss Clark (who may or may not be overreacting).
I set Maggie down on the front seat of the car. She starts to fuss. I console her with an old toothbrush I found in the center console, and I start actually vacuuming.
Jack and Clark continue to sword fight outside, which is okay, because I can't hear the arguing over the vacuum.
I vacuum the car. It takes roughly five minutes.
Now, to wipe down the inside.
ARRRRggoiurlkpt.
Maybe tomorrow.
Comments
So, it makes me smile to read your story and feel like I'm not alone, and that it really is pretty entertaining, when you aren't the one trying to keep your cool, get the job done, and somehow manage to stay sane. Love you girl!
This is a perfect example of why I drive around in a trash can on wheels!
I can't handle the thought of vacuuming it out....for the exact reasons you've mentioned here!
...not to mention the fact that it's already like 350 degrees outside.