Not to be a grinch (although I'm leaning that way today), but I don't understand the need for a party at Kindermusik. My kids love the music, which is supposed to be the point, so why (why? why?) is it necessary to skip the music for candy and cookies. I can give them candy and cookies. My musical skills fall a little below par. I had decided not to go. Unstructured free time with sweets never goes well for me when I have all three kids by myself. Then, I changed my mind in the afternoon. I'm not sure what happened. My toddlers definitely didn't need any more sugar. Desperation to leave the house maybe? Inability to build one more block tower for knocking down without going insane? I think I became blinded by my need for Starbucks on the way there (okay, not exactly on the way there, but close enough that I don't feel terrible about the gas).
I made one poor decision after another until we all collapsed in a little melt-down heap on the carpet at Kindermusik. My first mistake was to go at all. Moving on. My second error, in my rush to leave with time for coffee, was to let the baby sleep, instead of feeding him right before we left. My brain could not have been operating properly because I NEVER EVER leave the house without feeding the baby. It's not as if I can sit down and nurse him somewhere and Ess and Gee will just sit angelically at my feet. The only place to nurse him out and about is the car (where the toddlers can be effectively restrained) and getting every one back to the car once we have left it is a 20 minute affair. After that sad lapse in judgment, the snowball became an avalanche of missteps too numerous to relate. We arrived a little late, but to be fair to myself it took us close to ten minutes to negotiate the icy parking lot, so I don't think it was the coffee stop. We straggled inside, got our shoes off and sat in the circle. Cue generally sits in the back in his car seat and either sleeps or coos delightedly, but I could tell from the way that he was trying to get milk out of his lip and the side of his seat that the decision to skip the pre-outing feeding was going to catch up with me.
In the first fifteen minutes, my daughter's behavior went from mildly annoying to aggressively hyperactive and the baby went from cranky to unhappy. I took deep breaths and told myself to make it through one cookie and then beat a hasty retreat. In hindsight, I should have just dragged them all screaming to the car, (because leaving before the 'goodbye song' could only be accomplished with lots of screaming) but I can't tell you how much I wanted to avoid such a public scene. Learned my lesson.
My angry baby quieted only when I held him, which left me exactly zero hands for cookie time. Ess did sit nicely and eat a cupcake. Gee inhaled his cupcake and then, seeing that I was virtually immobile, sharked around the room eating anything that any other child set down. As soon as teacher Theresa sang the good bye song, I shoved the (now howling) baby in his car seat and started to put coats on my toddlers. But, you see, the good bye song was done perfunctorily and without the usual ceremony and so when I tried to put on Ess's coat she threw herself backwards and commenced sobbing for the good bye song. The drama. At this point, my main goal was not to reason our way to happiness, but to get them out of that room as quickly as possible. I continued to dress Ess with my nerves jangling to the baby's yells and Gee still scarfing crumbs off the floor along with every germ in the universe.
As I finished with Ess and left her screaming and kicking on the floor so that I could lasso Gee, a very sweet mom with one darling little blond toddler started handing out candy canes. Not just candy canes, decorated candy canes with pipe antlers and pom pom red noses. I must confess that I felt a flash of hatred. I realize how mean that sounds and I am well aware that I have no one to blame but myself for my gaggle of small ones (nor would I trade them for anything). It was jealous hatred because her sweet little pony-tailed daughter offering each child in the room a sickeningly cute candy cane reindeer from a beribboned red bucket was a little much to take while two of my children acted as the poster kids for one-child families. There was also an honest twinge of real hatred because, COME ON, she gave two year olds candy wrapped in plastic at 4:30 in the afternoon. It clearly had to be taken away again by tired, less perfect parents like me. I suppose I could have just let Gee eat the plastic, since by that time, he'd already consumed his own weight in carpet fuzz stuck to slimy half-eaten cookies.
I corralled my small human vacuum and put him in his coat, while trying to interest Saige in pulling the nose off of the reindeer. Just as I established some semblence of order with my toddlers, a father sitting beside us turned to his wife with their perfect little two year old in her lap and asked if 'she' (that would be me) was going to pick 'that baby' (that would be Cue, who had just achieved thermo-nuclear mad) up. I didn't know whether to rip into him or burst into tears. How is that helpful exactly? Who was he to judge anyway with his two to one adult to toddler ratio? I am outnumbered THREE to one. My odds of even a draw in any given situation are poor. Whatever. I picked up the car seat containing my pet howler monkey and headed for the door.
Teacher Theresa chose this moment to announce that everyone should come and see her at the door for a present on their way out. She said this while holding an enormous basket of rubber ducks. The ensuing bottleneck could have stopped a Sherman tank. A very frazzled mother holding a fourteen pound ball of fury didn't stand a chance. My escape route was blocked. And there were my toddlers at the very front, both sticky hands plunged elbow deep in rubber duckies. Happily, though, their peppermint choking hazards lay forgotten on the floor. I actually threw them in the trash on my way out the door with everyone (it felt like) watching me. I admit that it wasn't a nice move, but I had so many things in my hands. I somehow plowed to the front and physically pried my children out of the ducky basket with one hand while keeping the baby's car seat high enough above the crowd to avoid knocking someone's precious toddler unconscious. Holding both of their hands in one of mine, we almost made it out, but Gee stopped at the last second to snatch Ess's duck away and give both ducks back to Teacher Theresa. I just kept walking. The last thing I heard was teacher Theresa's always sweet and patient voice saying 'oh wait, they forgot their ducks.' We had already ventured out onto the skating rink parking lot and we weren't retracing our steps for any amount of money - and certainly not for rubber ducks.
We straggled towards the car, Ess screaming for ducks, Cue screaming for milk, and Gee repeating helpfully over and over that 'mommy no have bag, mommy no have bag.' No. bag. mommy. No bag. I buckled them all in without killing any one. I took a moment to stand outside of the van in the dark, briefly alone in the silence. I drove home. We achieved full recovery from Ess in the car, Cue held out for milk. I got them all inside, attached baby to boob, gave Ess 10 minutes in her room for refusing to hold my hand around cars (which I am quite certain meant nothing to her, but gave me a lot of satisfaction) and finally turned my attention to Gee. He shook his head sadly at me and said, for the umpteenth millionth time. No bag mommy. And then it dawned on me. My two year old son was right. No bag - as in diaper bag, containing not only diapers, wipes and crackers, but also my cell phone, my wallet and my favorite scarf. Left at Kindermusik. The saddest part of the whole afternoon, then, was that I had to return on Tuesday and retrieve my sh#t. I stopped at Starbucks on the way there.
Post script: I got back in the saddle today and took them all to a mom's club Christmas party. I let them watch an hour of TV while I fed the baby until he collapsed into a milk-induced coma before we left. It was beautiful. Cue slept. The toddlers ate lunch and shrieked adorably for Santa when he arrived. Okay, Ess shrieked in abject terror, but both of my hands were free to hold her so it was cute. We ate copious amounts of sugar, played games and came home for NAP TIME. Three different people commented on how content the baby was and how cute Ess and Gee were. I'm not always that bright...but I can be taught.
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