Another Day in Paradise

Well, well, well, I was sitting in the car in the parking lot at the beach, trying to open Annabelle’s squeezy yogurt. I spent about five minutes trying to open it like a lady, ripping it with my fingers. I was now resorting to trying to open it like an animal, sinking my teeth into it and tearing, but no, it wasn’t budging.
As I was sitting there, I felt something hit me in the back of the head, then I felt a spattering of something else all over me. “What in the world was that?” I asked, running my fingers through an inch of goop on the crown of my head. I heard a diabolical laugh from two-year-old Henry in the back seat.  “Funny, Mama!” he said.
“Henry!!” I said, looking down and seeing that he had crumpled up his own yogurt squeezy, made a ball out of it and threw it at my head. “Henry! That’s not funny! You don’t throw things at mama!” My response delighted him. “Mama! Funny!” he said again, laughing and laughing. George had to stick his head out of the car so the kids wouldn’t see him laughing. I guess it could have been worse.  I could have been wearing a silk dress instead of my swimming suit. Or I could have had my freshly-washed hair destroyed, instead of hair that was sticking out in every direction from sun and salt water.
This is my life right now. Spending the last two hours trying to get two giggling wrestling monkeys to sleep. Everytime I tried to get stern with Henry and tell him to go to sleep instead of doing flips over my legs and laughing hysterically, he gathered his energy and shouted, “No! Mama!” Annabelle tried to help me by telling him to settle down, and he said, “No Babelle! Throw out window!” When he gets really mad and is prevented from hitting, he threatens to throw Annabelle out a window.
A two hour bedtime!! By the time they finally succumbed, I was so tired and out of my mind I couldn’t get anything done!No dishes, no writing..
But I have to say, I love every minute of it.  Even when Annabelle belches like a frat boy in front of Carly Simon; even when I notice the joyful artwork on our newly painted walls, even when Henry takes off running with my $20 lipstick trying to get his little pudgy finger in there to squish it before I take it away from him, and yes, even when I’m combing pink yogurt out of my hair, I love it.