I'm still here. I don't know if it was that I was still in shock from the day's events, or if it was because of the sinus headache. Whatever it was, after I got the kids to bed and turned on one of my favorite brainless tv shows, I promptly fell asleep. So, here's yesterday's tale:

Well, I thought that the 3 year old, hereby to be referred to as The Destroyer, had outgrown his daily need to create huge disasters. Previously, he was found guilty of such undertakings as squirting mom's expensive lotion all over the carpet in the master bedroom; painting the walls, floor, and door of the bathroom with red fingernail polish; jumping off the bed onto a bottle of Clorox because he couldn't unscrew the childproof cap (yes, it did shoot bleach onto a 2.5 foot section of carpet...I know you were wondering); the list goes on...

I'm sure that by now you've guessed that I was mistaken. While it is no longer a daily endeavor, the propensity is still there. Yesterday, while I was seated in the dining room going over times tables with The Quiet One, I should have realized that there was trouble since The Destroyer (not well known for silence) was actually playing serenely in the living room behind me. I was blissfully unaware of trouble until my sister-in-law walked into the room and said, "What's all this powder everywhere?"

Now at this point I was thinking in smaller terms when I heard her say "everywhere." Like, maybe, all over the chair, or covering a small section of carpet. After all, I was right there, ten feet away the whole time. So, turning around, I was not so alarmed. I'm sure you've guessed again...she meant everywhere. All the carpet, the toys, the books, the computer desk, the furniture, and even (gasp) the baby. The inanimate objects were given a fine dusting, with a little extra here and there for artistic flare. But the baby was given special attention (and didn't even think to alert me by some little protest!), so that he looked like a pale ghostling. If you have never tried to clean up a full bottle of baby powder from a living room, you couldn't possibly imagine how tough it is to get the stuff up! So, an hour later, we decided it would have to be good enough because I had a friend coming over to drop off her two kids and I had to make it to the store before she arrived.

I wish I could say that the drama ended there. Alas...later that afternoon...

The little morsels were all outside jumping on the trampoline, when I heard a fight break out. I ran outside to see what was going on. The kids all started yelling that my friend's three year old (otherwise known as The Destroyer's Accomplice) had been hitting, shoving, pinching, and generally abusing them all. So I called The Accomplice, who was sobbing hysterically, to come down from the trampoline. I was about to "discuss" this behavior with him quite sternly when he turned to face me and I saw the shiner. Oh, yes, a nice big black eye. I decided that the "discussion" could wait, and took him inside to apply a rice pack. Meanwhile I called his mom to inform her that we had broken her little sweetheart. When she asked, I relayed the information I had received from the other little morsels. When asked, I told her that, no, I had not "discussed" the incident with him yet because he had received an impressive black eye. "Good," she said. A statement that only a rational and caring parent could have mustered. We decided that he had received what is sometimes the most effective discipline...natural consequence (oh, and he wasn't allowed back on the trampoline..sniff, sniff).

Is the story over yet? No. I'm sorry to say that this is not the end. Later that evening....

My dear hubby comes running inside from watching our five, plus my friend's two, plus a few of the other neighborhood kids, play in the back yard. "The Accomplice" is bleeding. I need the first aid kit," he says. Turns out that The Destroyer had thrown a broken glass off the back deck earlier yesterday, and The Accomplice had found it with his little bare foot. So, once again, I was on the horn with his mama. She answers: "So, did you break my boy again?" and laughs. I say: "Actually, yes. This time he's bleeding." And, boy, was he ever. We got it under control, got him bandaged up, and fed him ice cream (okay, I made him eat his broccoli, carrots, turkey, and brown rice first...I have my priorities!!). He turned out okay, and his mama still loves me!

We got the kids in bed, and The Little Princess was back up, almost immediately, running to the bathroom to pay homage to the great white porcelain god "Ralph." At that time, some friends dropped in for a surprise visit (9pm). I decided to visit with them rather than accompany Princess to her pity party (she is quite the drama queen, and any attempts at soothing just lead to more piteousness). I'm sure I'll feel terrible about that one later, especially since we found her resting her head on the toilet seat, snoring softly, after our guests were gone. Daddy snuggled her in the recliner for a while before transporting her back to bed.

So now you know...That's the life in yesterday. I've never felt so alive. (Nothing remarkable happened today, so I'll not drag this on any further). G'night!