Don't get mad, get glad.

Three weeks today.

R had a birthday party to go to today. That child has more functions in a week than I've had in a year.

I took the two boys for a walk this morning, trying to beat the rain. I promised J we'd scope out the playground and see how wet it was. It was too muddy to get out so we kept walking. He sang to himself for most of it. Something about a toddler singing nonsense in a sweet little voice just melts my heart.

It started to rain on us and Baby I had fallen asleep, but J was still fighting it, so regardless of the dirty looks my neighbors cast me as they drove by, I kept walking around and around the block until he fell asleep.

I was drenched with sweat from purposely running up and down all the hills on Shore Cliff and then I was drenched in water from well, the rain. I didn't do my hair this morning and it had been at least four days since my last shave, so I looked good.

I'm trying to paint a picture here.

This is how I looked when I made my last round before finally going home. The block I circled the most times sits in the center of the neighborhood. It's not a large block, but in the community I grew up in, the same amount of space could hold 15 houses. This block has five.

Five, giant, three story houses with big large columns and multiple decks and ivy and landscaping and limousines dropping off dry cleaning and I was just starting to feel self-conscious about my outfit when I saw a lady on her second floor balcony wearing the exact same thing, right down to the sweat.

Actually, hers was worse because she had on 80s stretch pants and something akin to a fanny pack.

My ego swelled immediately.

At home I put J on the couch on which he often naps and put the baby into his crib. I cooked my lunch and cleaned and sat around for a while not being productive.

I think I was being productive again when the thump from J falling off the couch made me crack up laughing so hard I felt guilty for like ten minutes after that. The poor kid had been startled out of sleep as he landed on his hands and knees on the hardwood floor.

To make him feel better I gave him grape juice and admitted to him that I still fall out of single beds on the occasion that I have to sleep on one that is not against a wall. He giggled and I felt less guilty.

It's funny when people fall!

T and R got home and T vanished into her room for a quick nap.

R and J sat in the play room saying, "don't get made, get glad" ad cracking up at each other. They have been getting along so well lately because during the days, they're not together anymore.

Poor Baby I's hiney has been bright pink for two days and he's also teething, so he's not getting along with anybody.

But.

He is talking for me and only me.

During the quiet alone of the afternoon I had organized the kids' room from top to bottom, so when they were all there we did some puzzles that hadn't seen the light of day, well, ever.

My favorite thing about R is that she is loving all my organization. An obssessive compulsive in the works, she returns things to their places regularly and when I redo a room she comes to ask me what has been placed where and she keeps it that way. I assigned her two drawers in the desk the kids share and at bedtime tonight she had memorized everything in each drawer and taken full advantage of having her own space.

Her things are in immaculate order and J's on the other side of the desk already look like a tornado hit them.

The highlight of my day was learning that the grocery stores in this neighborhood don't carry Nestle chocolate chips. I'll be making the kids some chocolate chip cookies this weekend with some fancy pants $7 chocolate chips and Irish oats in a gold can.

The low point of my day was when T had gone to the grocery store and I was home with all three kids.

Please keep in mind that I am dangerously low on estrogen right now.

The doorbell rang so Willie Nelson started barking like a maniac, which he does every time the doorbell rings, even if it's someone he knows. I accepted a diaper delivery and then closed the door, turned around, walked two steps and the doorbell rang again.

And the dog barked again. And the baby started crying because the dog startled him and I was already annoyed because this is the week that I am annoyed.

I opened the door to Mom E, who had callled earlier in the day and whom I told NOT to come over because T and E were going out tonight and wouldn't be there anyway. I guess she didn't care, because there she was, with a present for J.

She came in, made herself at home and disrupted everything peaceful about the kids' play.

She asked me her usual round of questions about whether or not the kids drank water and ate fruit that day. I told her yes, they had fruit, not mentioning the fact that Baby I has explosive diarrhea and the diaper rash of the century and we're keeping him off the fruit for a bit.

It didn't matter.

I could have told her I had just fed each child an entire bushel of apples and she still would have cut up fruit and forced it down their throats.

She fed the baby fruit, lingered through dinner (T was there until she had to go pick up E from the train), and then argued with me about whether or not I should give the baby a bath.

She claimed that if a baby's belly gets cold after dinner he will have pain.

I claimed that it was half an hour until his bedtime, there's a heater in the bathroom and give me that baby and stop ruining my schedule.

She gave me the baby.

And in reality, I sugar-coated everything and said it with a smile on my face that nearly killed me.

But I got the baby up into his bath, and to my joy, R wanted to get away from her grandmother and get in the tub as well.

E and T got home a bit later and my eye stopped twitching.

That woman should not be allowed in this house when I am pms-ing. I should have written that into my contract.