Our usual

This is a small account in a day morning hour of the house-O'babies. After I started narrating the beginning of the day I figured an hour was plenty. If you've had little ones at home but they are now grown you will enjoy remembering the typical morning. If you don't have kids yet you will sip your latte at work and relish in the quiet lunch you just had your desk and not be so bothered by your annoying coworker. And because there are most likely more than 60 entries - meaning more than 1 per minute I decided to leave out actual times but just imagine....there isn't a nano-second in between entries unless I have locked myself in the bathroom to attempt to go to the potty alone for 32 seconds. I have this down to an art.

"Bye, honey, have a good day. Enjoy your lunch at Chops today." Door Shuts. Let the fun begin...... {B=older boy, W=younger boy}
Mommy, I need oatmeal, mommy.
Clean up stacking toys from the morning - all 10 of them - thinking "if I just hide them, they won't be found again"
Wipe spit up from W's front side.
Re-hide wires under tv stand for the 3rd time already.
W crawls to the wires anyway.
Mommy, I need oatmeal, mommy.
While preceding to put himself in his chair B spills the entire Costco size container of blueberries.
W crawls to scavenge any runaway blueberries, pulling tv wires with him.
Oh, then he spits up again.
Fasten B in the chair so he won't step on anymore blueberries.
Amos eats atleast a pint.
W eats the other pint now on the floor.
Who cares? Blueberries are a super food.
Eww...with the blueberry W eats a leaf.
Spit up.
Mommy, I need oatmeal, mommy.
Oh yeah, oatmeal. That's right!
Dang it! I burnt the steel cut oatmeal. Why did I think I needed steal cut oatmeal anyway? Organic living can come later.
Who burns oatmeal?
I turn to walk into the kitchen and slide on said spit up. Aren't they supposed to grow out of spitting up by now?
Pull out the 24th wet wipe of the morning. Seriously, I counted. I've never felt such a love/hate towards a product before...
Wipe up spit up and place W in his chair to eat for the 3rd time. Eating is merely entertainment at this point.
Mommy, I need oatmeal. Mommy.
Mommy, I need milk, mommy.
Hey, buddy, can you not say "mommy" at the beginning and end of each phrase?
I turn to finally get the oatmeal and squash 3 blueberries. Thankful for wet wipes this time.
I actually get the oatmeal and remember the milk.
Mommy, I need blue cup, mommy.
Dang it, why did I teach him his colors?
No, B, use the green cup it's fine.
Mommy, green cup dirty, mommy.
Oh, right, I took the green cup from you last night and told you it was dirty. How did you remember that?
Crying ensues from W. If he could he would be saying, FEED ME. FEED ME.
Blueberries will have to do. Here comes pint number two!
Mommy, I need "bwuberries", mommy.
Sure thing. I can do that.
Mommy, I need "seben" bwuberries.
Why did I teach him how to count? I swear kids are easier when they are not so smart!
And by the way, you don't"need" anything...you "want" it, B.
Phone rings.
I check the fridge for my phone.
No lie.
Ironically, that is where I left it.
W wiggles his feet more ferociously expecting something more than blueberries asap.
I find a leftover chicken finger from yesterday's lunch. Chicken for breakfast? Perfect.
Mommy, I need Bernstain Bears, Mommy.
Again, bro, you don't need anything....

Let's end there. It's only been 10 minutes. I have heard my name 32 times. Again, I counted. And by then end of the hour I had picked up the stacking blocks 4 times and the basket of socks 5 times. You would think after this hour is repeated every single morning I would learn that I just shouldn't pick up until nap time. But I am a stubborn learner and somehow I have seemed to make the small task of feeding two growing boys a healthy breakfast much more complicated than it should be.

But....it is all worth it when B chases W around the house while pushing a dump truck. He giggles incessantly, thinking W was merely made for his entertainment. All the while W has picked up this new goofy tongue thing so his tongue hangs down to his chin as he motor-crawls around the house chasing B. He babbles and sings "da da" and for the next 10 minutes I sit and watch as the two learn about each other and their world through silly play. Then I realize I still don't have any pants on and it's now nearly 10am but nothing matters when youre home with babes. Nothing but their innocence and development and the way they look at you when they think you have all of the answers. Except why your phone was in the refrigerator.