Anarchy and a visit to the dentist

Mornings in our house are rapidly deteriorating into anarchy.

Every morning there’s a getting up/wardrobe/breakfast/teeth/hair crisis.  Sometimes some of the above, some mornings all of the above.  In varying degrees and sometimes multiplied by 3.

What infuriates me the most is the immobile stubborn silent treatment when you try and hurry them along without screaming.

What porridge would you like. Silence.

Please get your bowl and spoon. Silence.

You have to wear stockings if you are wearing a dress, it’s cold outside. Silence.

If you wear the shorts you still have to wear stockings, your legs will get cold. Silence.

You can wear the sleeveless top but only if you put on a sweater over it. Silence.

Please wear shoes. Silence.

Please come and brush your teeth. Silence.

Please stand still so I can brush your hair. Silence and turning of head.

Please take your bag to the car. Followed by complaints about who is taking them to school.

Instead of pulling out my hair I pretty much let Etienne deal with it.  Bad Mother.  I know.  Go ahead, judge me, I also judge me.  But then come over and feed, dress and brush teeth/hair for a single morning and we can talk again.  Capice?

Now before you start dispensing the advice I’m about to ask you for, yes, we have tried the “pick your outfit for tomorrow” routine which worked really well until the girls changed their minds about their outfits in the mornings.  I mean, they are girls after all.  It’s their prerogative. So now I have made it Megan’s problem.  Mean, I know.

What else can we do to make it easier in the mornings?

Ps: Isabel now has a hole in her tooth and so we will embark on our first trip to the dentist on Monday.  This is virgin territory for me, so ANY advice is welcome.  And no, I can’t take vodka with me as the appointment is at 07h45 in the morning.  On a Monday.  Shoot me.  Now.

Pps: Etienne is SO going to read this blog post and tell me it’s not so bad, I shouldn’t say things like this about our lovely children.  Let’s consider it payback for suggesting that the inability to choose an outfit could possibly lie with me. I mean, sometimes clothes just don’t look right and you have to change a couple of times.  RIGHT?

Saturday morning

Saturday morning was one of those few Saturdays that we didn’t have to rush off anywhere, so I thought it a good time to go back to bed for a little snooze after all the kids were up and (mostly) fed.

I had just snuggled in and was drifting off after reading a couple of pages of my book when I get rudely awoken by Isabel shouting from the loo: “Paaaapppaaaa, vee my booouuuude af!!!” That girl has a set of lungs on her, let me tell you.

Doefdoefdoef Etienne comes down the passage, the rest of the circus children in tow.  At this point I could still block out the noise. I could even block out Daniel jumping on the trampoline right outside our bedroom window, but I couldn’t block out his frantic screams followed by Etienne trying very hard not to laugh hysterically.  Funny how I know his way of laughing by now.

Doefdoefdoef down the passage Daniel comes, “Mamma? MAAAMMMMAAA daar was ‘n spinnekop op die trampolien!!” (Mom, there was a spider on the trampoline!)  Apparently he was jumping on the trampoline and must have disturbed a little rain spider that must have gotten the fright of his life and dashed across the trampoline for cover.  I asked him how big the spider was:

This big Mom

Then Isabel came into the room to show me how big the spider was:

THIS big Mom

And JUST as I thought the children were simmering down, I had to deal with this little face up close:

Love me!

All this before 08h00 on a Saturday morning..

ps. Daniel is normally very into bugs etc and he had some Millepedes in a jar the other night.  The next morning through the din of the girls I vaguely hear him say he is going to put his Shongololo under the tree for the day. A minute later he is back, completely distraught and crying: Jack (the dog) ate the Shongololo!  He cried all the way to school where they thankfully distracted him very quickly.  Poor boy!

pps. Don’t you just love the word Shongololo?  It’s such an awesome word.