We are moving next week to Springfield. This is a very emotional move for us, and I'll talk more about that another day, but I've spent my days packing and trying to achieve some level of sanity around here.
Today, it all came crashing down. The baby was napping, I was in a packing frenzy, and the three oldest were turned into adorable couch potatoes watching Cars.
This lasted awhile, but when the movie finished for the second time, I told them it was time to play quietly. Panic ensued. Fights broke out. And so I did what any good mother would do. I sent them outside to play.
Sounds great, right? E and C have somehow abandoned their pants. I neglected to change any of them out of their pjs. Charlie is wearing the liner for the dirty laundry hamper on his head saying, "Ghostie! Ghostie, ghostie, ghostie!" Emily is screaming. I can hear drumbeats off in the distance. They sound like mutiny and the loss of civilization as we know it.
I'm out of boxes, the baby's awake, and the neighbors are probably wondering if these little urchins have a mother. I guess it's time to rein in the tiny tyrants.