Weary Mother Pleads Insanity

I sit here, contemplating the universe…and the particularly quirky idea of having three children so close together.

I am fortunate that Bobby is in school full-time now, but the other two little ‘darlings’ have more than made up for whatever peace that may have afforded me.

In fact, this week has me seriously considering locking myself in the bathroom and refusing to come out again. Ever. Unfortunately, I know what would happen in my absence…more of the things that happen in my presence. For instance, in just the last two weeks Ben (3), and Laura (2), acting as “Team Terminator” or the “Terrible Twosome” (hereafter referred to as T2), have destroyed more than just my sanity.

Yes, the sweet-faced duo disguise themselves as innocent toddlers…but beneath their baby-powder-scented façade…beat hearts as cunning as Bonnie and Clyde. What mischief can they find? In what moment of mother’s distraction can they wreak the most havoc? Their eyes glitter from darkened corners…waiting to dart out and sharpen their ruinous skills as soon as the phone rings.

They often precede their mischief with sweet hugs and kisses, and with Oscar-worthy performances of peaceful play, they lull me into a false sense of security.

I have been caught off guard so many times this week I am considering placing “WANTED” posters up in the neighborhood. “WANTED: HOME FOR TWO TODDLERS. FREE TO GOOD FAMILY.”

First there was the great “Diaper Bag Caper” of last week. T2 earned a TIMEOUT in their room (which I now realize was preplanned with the forethought of a bank heist), and I sank gratefully into the chair at the computer to check my email. I heard them chattering away in their room, flipping through books at their bookshelf, and I heaved a sigh of relief for five minutes of peace.

I paid dearly for those five minutes.

After slowly becoming aware that their ‘quiet’ time had turned into peals and shrieks of laughter I felt (belatedly) that I should check on them. Imagine my horror to see their room (and each other) covered in baby powder…the television coated with a greasy finger-painted mess of baby oil, their hair slicked back like Max Headroom, and blobs of pink baby lotion dotting the rug like sweet-smelling posies. Streaks of white-clown grease-paint diaper cream were scattered about the room with gleeful abandon. An entire bottle of hand-sanitizer had graciously been emptied around the carpet as well, to aid with disinfecting, I am sure. There was T2, big-eyed, trying not to grin, while stammering out little apologies and blinking their lashes at me.

I’d like to say I handled it with grace, but I didn’t. I sat on the floor and cried.

That must have been entertaining, or at least encouraging, as this week they’ve followed that up with some truly charming events, such as the “Toothpaste Mirror Smear”, the “Spilled Milk Dance-Dance Revolution”, the “Jar of Honey-coated stuffed animals”, "Picasso Painting with yogurt and smashed bananas", and my personal favorite…”Laura’s Lovely Lid: A Study in Toddler Barbering.”

Only slightly more disturbing than her self-trained haircut…is the fact that she got to the scissors in the first place.

(Note to self: Buy more hats.)

Why do they always hack off the bangs right next to the scalp in the middle of their forehead?! How do they know, instinctively, where they can do the most damage in the shortest amount of time? On top of the horror I feel for her performance as “Edward Scissorhands”, is the guilt I feel over being embarrassed by her ‘Sigourney Weaver post-alien pate’.

Sigh.

This is the little sweet-faced two-year old who refuses, vociferously, to use the potty. She can climb into the computer chair, turn on the monitor, log onto the Internet, choose the correct game-site, click through the links to her favorite “Dora the Explorer” games, play and win them…but she can’t use a toilet?! Who’s the smart one here?

So tonight, as my aching head sinks into my pillow, I will not drift into the oblivion I so desperately long for. I will be straining at the baby-monitor trying to overhear T2’s plans for mischief and mayhem on the ‘morrow. I will fall into a restless sleep only to be tormented by dreams of greasy, chocolaty, sticky messes. I will dream of strange ominous spells of silence in which I realize that T2 is ‘up to something’. I will start awake at the smallest sounds…sure that the children are sneaking out of the house to visit our neighbor, Walter, for lollipops...again.

My children sleep the sleep of the innocent, secure in the knowledge that they are only babies, and entitled to experiment and push the boundaries whenever possible. I will wake with blood-shot eyes and stumble from bed to face the chaos of T2’s machinations.

The score?

Mom: 0
T-2: 10