Random Lunch Hour

Because I'm not physically prepared to show you pictures of the update on the garage makeover, and because I am not emotionally prepared to write about Sarah Harkins, I bring you-

Random Lunch Hour with The Sloths

Curtains open. It's 12:40, an hour and forty minutes after our regular scheduled lunch time. 

We've just arrived home from a morning of errands including Sam's Club. As  the boys and I unload the van of supplies of overstock goods Demand starts making burritos for everyone.

Happy is in charge of holding the garage door open as Rooster and King, yes, King, assist in carrying the groceries inside and putting them away.

Happy swings the door every three seconds causing a mind numbing squeak to resonate throughout the house and tries to perfectly time the door to close on Rooster as he passes by. King thinks everything is candy and demands I open the package immediately or relocates it to an undisclosed location. When I refuse to open the lifetime supply of Motrin, King throws the box across the room in a fit of rage.(I might just need to open the box after all. )

Just then Rooster announces that he doesn't feel like helping anymore because he is "not strong enough to carry toothpaste" upstairs.

Demand then calls out that she can't remember how to make one minute and forty seconds on the microwave as she is still new at cooking this way. I stop to assist.

Then I continue to bring in various items from the van including, but not limited to the trail of boxes Pax took from the van and placed elsewhere.

As Demand continues to crank out burritos, I employ Happy to dry sweep the house and gather all the crumbs into one place.

King is still trying to open the Motrin.

Rooster, being surprisingly obliging, is trudging items upstairs. I tap into the decade of Tetris experience from childhood and reconfigure my pantry to fit the newly purchased groceries. "Why did I buy so much? ", I think "We're leaving town in a few days. "

I notice Happy is parading around the house with dry mop as though he is carrying a crucifix up the aisle at Mass and I'm reminded to check his work.

"I did it, Mom. I made lots of piles like you said."

Nope. Not what I said. One pile, not many, I feel like there are more crumbs now somehow.

King, giving up on the Motrin,  realizes his hunger and expresses himself the best way a two year old knows how. Rage.

I place him in the highchair and hand him a container of blueberries that has been sitting out since breakfast.

He giggles.

I finish up my game of Tetris and shut the pantry door victoriously just as Demand and the kids sit down for lunch.

I apparently forgot to make reservations as Demand didn't make me a burrito.

King is no longer pleased with the blueberries. I hand him his burrito.

I put a burrito in the microwave for myself and Demand requests I read about the Saint of the Day.

I sit down and read two lines of the biography of Blessed Frederic Jansoone, and as I speak the words, "he lead an interesting life" my foot catches the dry mop which falls down across the kitchen island and knocks over a glass of water.

The kids seem confused as to why I have stopped reading as I clean up the mess.

I continue reading.  I take a bite of my molten burrito.

Happy gets up to get water and is asked to get some for everyone. I take a bite of my flaming burrito and continue reading.  Two lines in Happy asks for straws.

"We don't need them", I say, desperate to take a third bite undisturbed.

I attempt to continue reading when he insists I find them. "The cup is for King.", he says.

I get up, locate a straw and hand it to Happy.

I take another bite of my warm burrito.

I continue reading. I am interrupted first by a grunt, and then by King saying, "Mama...I poop."

"You're pooping?"I ask assumingly.

"Yeah. ......(shutters)"

I continue reading.

"Ow-y" , King whines.

"You hurt? " I ask.

"Yeah." King says.

"Let's change your diaper. " I concede.

Demand simultaneously finishes her burrito and now wants the coveted pears promised upon completion of the burrito.

"No pears until Mommy finishes her lunch. "

King has a new diaper on,  but he is now roaming free, not in a high chair.  I wash my hands and sit back down.

"Done. Pears please? " says Happy oblivious to the previous statement.

"Not until Mommy is done."

At some point as I finish my burrito I mention how nap time will immediately follow lunch. Rooster then spends the next ten minutes trying to around the idea of a nap instead of eating his burrito.  Demand seeing me finish my cold burrito, opens a can of pears. I tell her, a little irritated, that  I had already opened one. I dish out pears for Demand, Happy, and King. Rooster cries because he hasn't finished his lunch yet. He continues to try and talk me out of naps.

Everyone demands more pears. I open the second can regretting my comments earlier. I leave the room and comeback to find King following me around carrying his plate with pear juice dripping behind him asking for more. While he's distracted I take the pear he threw on the table and put it back on his plate then open a third can.

Rooster, suddenly infused with the concept of scarcity,  starts to panic about our pear supply. I assure him we have plenty. We just went to Sam's Club.

Happy repeatedly requests his fork be retrieved from the can of pears and brought back to him.

Finally Rooster finishes his dilapidated burrito and ask for pears. I open a fourth can, noticing that we've plowed throw half a box in one meal,  and announce naps are in five minutes.

At this point I am reminded of the gentleman at Sam's Club who asked me if 'this' was all mine, inquiring about the twirling little people at my feet. Upon confirmation he declares my hands are full. I wasn't annoyed, I never am, good grief, my hands are full, but as I left the aisle, I thought, "I'm at Sam's Club because my family goes through one box of cereal a breakfast, one loaf of bread at lunch, (and apparently four cans of pears), and 80 K-cups of Caribou Coffee a month. Why are you here? "

So there you have it a random lunch date with the Sloths. Wait. Did we say grace? Crap.