It's Friday, and I'm Exhausted

So this is how it goes for me. I am awoken in the morning either by little feet kicking me in the back and a small voice that "can't find S.B." or the sound of thumping boy feet coming down the stairs to my room. By the time all three of them are up, I MAY have found time to make coffee or grab a bowl of cereal, but likely not both. The three of them then proceed to dance around me in the kitchen, dictating what they want for breakfast and what they want in their lunches in no particular order and all at the same time, never mind that two of them technically do not need their lunches packed. Oh, and they want it all done RIGHT THEN or they will proceed to do it themselves, which sounds nice but it's not. Keep in mind they are 7, 5 and 3 and it is generally not the 7 year old that will do it himself. Before breakfast is over, they will stop eating and leave their food to get cold/soggy/stale. Likely they will be back in 30 minutes to complain that they are hungry. Tate will ask to eat his lunch by 9am. If by some chance, I have managed to get the one lunch that I need to packed by the time oldest boy is up, he is sure to scream at me that he won't eat it because he is BUYING today before he is reminded that I am the one with the money and he'd better knock off talking to me like that or he won't have any lunch at all.

Today, after I got Cal on the bus, I managed to sneak in 20 minutes on the elliptical, interrupted after 10 by Ellerie asking me if she could ride it and repeating said request, while I was trying to read, for most of the next 10 minutes. I tried to shower, half shaved my legs and Elle was in the bathroom. Chatting away, she randomly interjects, "oh and Tate crying. He hurt his-self on the door." ACK! Is he bleeding? No. Well tell him I am coming after I rinse off the soap and conditioner. I rush to get out and, of course, he's just fine, but has started to pull out the paints and has a FIT when I ask him to wait until I am dressed and have a chance to clean off the kitchen table. OH NO. That is going to take WAY too long. I remind him he is lucky I am going to let him paint at all and will he PLEASE just sit tight until I am ready or start cleaning up the table himself. He starts, but whines the whole time that it is too hard and is taking me too long, then proceeds to have a tantrum over the tool used to hold the paint. We get that sorted out and they use way too much paint and make a huge mess and then, AS SOON as they are done, ask for food. No, I need to clean up the paint mess before we can use the table, please go play for 30 minutes. ANOTHER big tantrum. WHY DO WE HAVE TWO BEDROOMS FULL OF TOYS IF YOU DON'T WANT TO PLAY WITH THEM???? I threaten to throw them out unless they go play or they can sit in time out for 30 minutes until I am ready to serve lunch. What is the big deal with them playing for a half an hour??? Finally, they leave to "go clean" while I am sorting out the drippy papers in the kitchen. I finally get them settled to eat and leave to sort myself out for a moment and notice a drippy water mess from the bathroom across the hall to my bedroom. They were cleaning my closet mirrors. WITH WATER. Which has now made a lovely puddle on the hardwood floors. It is 11 am.

This is a normal day. I am never going to make it until they are adults.

NEVER.