I have a love hate relationship with weekends. I desperately need them in order to survive, but about six hours in I'm praying for Monday.
We still have a full day left - which will involve church, which is quite a struggle with toddlers and no nursery - and already they have spilled water, spilled knefla soup, beat the living daylights out of each other, threatened to "blow a gasket all up in here," eaten too many muffins, and ruptured my ear drums exactly sixteen times. Mya has taken her panties off more times than I can count and Alex has a thumb-sucking sore on his mouth. I can just about recite the entire script of Charlotte's web and Oh, The Places You'll Go.
Alex would like to know when he can have three more brothers and Mya would like some sisters. Alex wants a $159 train set for Christmas, but does not want to have less toys than everybody else and does not want me to work ever, much less overtime, to pay for it. Mya wants every toy at Toys R Us and can't even rule out one to make the Christmas list a little easier to fulfill. Both are intrigued and frightened by the mouse on the porch that has yet to make an appearance.
On a positive note, I did get Mya to snuggle me for twenty minutes this morning, although she rejected the swaddle. Alex cleaned his room to surprise me, and drew me a picture of his numbers one through eight and a happy face who was very proud of his number-writing skills. Mya thanked me for the oatmeal this morning (which I told her was apple cinnamon when it was actually peach, to avoid a fight) and Alex brushed my hair for four minutes and twelve seconds. I managed to make knefla for lunch without a cold trip to the grocery store and snuck in a shower without numerous interruptions or a house fire when I emerged. Also found a bottle of Hog Wash in the fridge - can't determine its origin - which the kids passed up for milk. I also didn't get out of bed until 630 this morning :)
Off to do 4.9 loads of laundry, 33 dishes, and 1000 square feet of floor scrubbing.