eight reasons this day was less than stellar

1.) This morning at nursery school the kids made little gift baggies containing all the ingredients to make a mug of cake. They are bringing them home on the last day of nursery school before Christmas, for their Christmas parties. Elliot did not want to leave hers there until the last day. She wanted to bring hers home today. The wailing commenced. I managed to get her down the stairs to the shoe area of nursery school. I could not physically get her into her jacket. I scooped up all our stuff in one arm, and the wailing, kicking, screaming little girl with the other and carried her through the parking lot, much to the amusement (or disapproval) of the parents who had been blocked on the stairs by the previously tantruming child. Once in the van she darted (still wailing and shrieking) to the back of the van and said she wasn't coming out. I hopped in, dragged her forward, plopped her into her chair and buckled her up, narrowly missing being bitten.

2.) The drive from nursery school was to the tune of, you guessed it, more evil shrieking in tongues. At the school I left her in the van (still tantuming, yay!) and went in to pick up Mitchell. I could hear her shrieking until I was nearly to the front doors.

3.) After collecting my kindergartner I approached my van once again, where other parents had slowed, probably assuming that the screaming kid in the abandoned red van was screaming because of the abandonment. I made sure to point out that the had been abandoned because of the screaming. A few of them chuckled sympathetically, the others made a mental note of yet another family their darlings were not allowed to befriend. The matter wasn't helped much when I slid open the van door to reveal a splotchy, snotty, drooly, still-shrieking toddler wearing no mitts, tuque, jacket or boots, who had now in a frenzied high-point of the tantrum that would not end, pushed her pants and underwear down around her knees, leaving her ass and thighs bare to the wondrously chilly winter weather. Awesome. The crowd of onlookers was well rewarded for their lingering. I'd be lying if I said I didn't maybe accidentally laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, toss Mitchell in before quickly sliding the door shut and ending the peep show, and drive home leaving her naked baby bottom sitting in the cold car seat for the duration of our trip.

4.) Tennyson had a doctor's appointment at 1 o'clock, so at 12:40 Mitchell and Elliot and I piled back into the van to pick up the kids. I found myself in the school parking lot again, and before making my way to the front door of the school, came upon my eldest two children, the "bad kid" (their words) and an outdoor recess duty teacher having a serious conversation. Jordan was crying uncontrollably and Tennyson was rampaging through an explanation of what happened, while the third kid stood their looking as guilty as sin. Nothing like walking into the middle of a playground incident involving ALL of your school aged children. Turns out #3 had called Jordan a M----- F----- a few times, made her cry, sent Tennyson into the school to tell the office, where they sent him back out to tell the on-duty teacher, and upon seeing his sister crying uncontrollably still had told the other boy he was telling the duty teacher after which the other boy had called him a f*ck and punched him in the throat. Awesome. My kids have learned ALL the colourful words, as well as what the middle finger means, from this boy. At this point I grabbed my son and headed for the doctor.

5.) Do you know how fun a doctor's office is with three little kids who abhor sitting nicely in chairs? There was some threatening, some kid may have been air-lifted by the front of his jacket into a chair, and the same kid may have had the super-fun, angry mom voice tell him quietly in his ear exactly where the bathroom was and what would happen if we ended up there, in the event that he dared to get out of his chair again.

I was so not in the mood at this point.

6.) Nor was I in the mood for the antics of the younger two at Tennyson's meet and greet appointment. Where on Earth did my kids ever learn that their heads were fricking weapons? Oh wait, what? You want this stool? Well I want this stool. Let's all hang onto it as hard as we can while grinding our heads together until one of us loses the skin off our face and backs down. Or until the doctor leaves us alone with Mom and the privacy of the bathroom is no longer necessary.

Then a brief reprieve while we visited a friend and the kids played while I drank hot apple cider and complained about my day thus far.

7.) I can't think of a better day to have all four kids with me for a 3:35 parent/teacher conference. Like, no better day at all. Not even kidding. The best part was when Tennyson and I were going through his portfolio and the littlest two announced that they had to pee and Tennyson's teacher took them to the bathroom. My guess is that she didn't want anything to result in us staying longer. Yay bucket of lego.

8.) Then we came home. Then they started running around (well, one or two or three of them anyway) and laughing and squealing with glee as loudly as they could, all over the house. One of the kids came running through the kitchen, slipped, and slid into the underside of the counter while being chased by his happily squealing brother while I was one the phone in that very same kitchen - and hurt his toes, which resulted in sitting on the floor and launching into the high-pitched screech of the heavily wounded animal. I lowered the phone. He curled around his battered toes, screeching for all he was worth. I may have yelled calmly told him to go to his room. He screeched "I HURT MY TOES!" as loud as he could. I may have calmly told him, louder still, to go to his room. He stumbled to his feet, declaring through his bawling and tears and tiny man angst that I didn't love him, that I never loved him, that if I loved him I would make him feel better, and that he was never letting me look at his portfolio again. Another kid came running through the kitchen. My head spun around a few times and I chased everyone to their rooms, just for being annoying. They stayed there for the better part of the next hour, happily fighting amongst each other behind blissfully closed doors.

Some days, the only thing keeping me from the Crash Test Mommy show is that they're my kids, and that somewhere in the midst of all this nobody sent me an email telling me I had to bake a cake and clean up the house for the birthday party for 25 kids that is starting 90 minutes from now.