Here's a typical Saturday morning in the Gift house:
Kyle goes to his little "house" in the backyard to do his daily P90X workout. This Saturday he was out there from 7am - 8am. A lot can happen in one hour in a house with two children and two dogs.
7AM - Both dogs are in bed with me. One licking my arm and one buried under the covers on top of my legs. Naturally, I'm awake. (NOTE: I was also awake from 4am - 5am to feed the littlest fella in the family.)
Graham is in his crib - along with every toy on the face of the earth. He is quietly playing. (Until he's not.) While he's quietly playing the dogs and I go downstairs. I put the coffee on. (NOTE: I make almost an entire pot of coffee.) While I'm making coffee the big dog starts begging to go out side. (NOTE: Molly's begging is something like a tractor trailer running into you while laying on the horn.) Meanwhile the other dog is stealthily pulling all of the trash out of the trashcan in the downstairs bathroom. (This is an almost daily occurrence.) The older boy clearly has lost interest in his toys as I hear him bellow, "HEY MANDY!!". After our morning routine, (which is a lot like trying to chase and clothe an octopus - an octopus that has very strong opinions about what he does and does not want to wear) I bring Graham downstairs, carrying his socks and shoes.
Molly is already outside, and Kona is trying to escape before Graham pinches her ears. We have leftover balloons from a birthday party last night, and Graham wants to "give them to God". (This is something I've done with him with the balloons from the grocery store so they don't end up in the car with us on the way home. I know it's dangerous for the turtles, etc. I do need another solution. In the meantime, he give his balloons to God.) So, I open the door to the backyard, carrying Graham and two balloons. (NOTE: I am in pajamas. A tank top, very thin pants, and no shoes. It's about 35-40 degrees outside. I'm freezing.) The larger dog - she's more like a giraffe - runs into the house. She's in the house for all of 10 seconds, and she comes bolting back out with Graham's socks. So, naturally the lovely-looking mother that I am, I run after her still holding Graham. And she thinks it's now a fun game of "chase Molly to get the socks". (It's about 7:30am - I'm sure our neighbors are loving us at this point.) I give up. Molly - 1, Mom - 0.
Finally get Molly and the socks inside and locked up. And, we gave the balloons to God. Sit down to breakfast. Graham doesn't want to sit at the table, he wants a picnic "lunch" in the family room. No. (That didn't go over so well. The "no" part.) He eats some of his bagel and cream cheese. The rest ends up smeared all over the kitchen table and his hands. He also proceeds to dismember all of his raspberries. He picks every tiny "seed" like piece of the raspberry apart. He finishes breakfast and screams to "wash hands". Of course! They're filthy and sticky. He doesn't want to wipe them with a napkin. So, we head to the bathroom. Or so I think. I get him down, he runs to one of my draperies in the kitchen and uses that instead.
Ah. A life with boys. And dogs. And we might be just a wee bit crazy to want more kids and dogs. (Kyle doesn't want more dogs. I do.)
At this point it's about 8:30am.
(At about 8:45, Graham locks Kyle out of the house. They are now at gym class getting some of that energy out!)
