Too Many Distractions

I am working, or trying to work. It is so terribly hard with the stuff going on in the kitchen, let me recap what is happening....

Owen is eating a peanut butter sandwich and chips, then suddenly he is in the fridge and announcing he is going to make himself a quesadilla. While he is in the process of obtaining the supplies for the new dinner, he and Greg realize the cheese grater is missing. They find it in the living room with Ivy's toys.

Back to work.... that is until I notice Owen walking around with a big knife to cut open the cheese and Ivy sitting, unsupervised, on the bar stool eating chicken, all the while screaming at the top of her lungs... ba ba ba ba ba ba ba.

Greg is trying his best to make his dinner with no luck. The cheese is cut open and Owen insists on grating it himself. He does as he wishes and places the quesadilla in the microwave yelling down to me .. "Mom, should I push 911?" "Should you call 911? NO!" "No, should I cook my quesadilla for 911?" "Probably not."

Back to work..... nope. Owen and a triangle quesadilla step into a dish on the floor (a product of an emptied kitchen cupboard). With the dish as an alternative to an ice skate, he scoots around the kitchen. Greg firmly asks Owen WHAT he is doing and viciously takes the dish away. I gently, or perhaps not so gently, depends on who you ask, remind Greg it is a .50 tupperware dish and I will buy a new one if something happens to it. I will actually buy a few extras just for Greg. And here comes my favorite part of the night. Owen agrees with me and then yells at Greg saying: "Mommy is going to have more kids so you can learn to be nice to kids!!"

Back to work as I am laughing my head off...not for long. Greg comes over to the desk with the block of cheese and asks if the small bite out of the block looks like a little girl bite. Well, it is either that or a mouse came sprinting into the kitchen during the chaos and took a quick bite and ran away. I choose Ivy. Not a big deal other than that cheese makes her throw up. We will wait for that.

Back to work ....until Ivy comes by to say hi. She takes my plate that I had a taco on, a glass one. I tell her to take it to Greg and send her on her way. Why would I do that? Naturally, she tripps and falls, breaking the plate to bits. Greg sweeps up Ivy, then the mess. Owen begins to cry saying that he has to leave the kitchen and has to go through the glass. Sweep, sweep, sweep and then he is given the go-ahead to step there. I look up and he is over that, just sitting calmly, eating a quesadilla.

It isn't over... Ivy empties out the entire recycling garbage. Owen is sad that my favorite plate (which it is not) is broken. In a state of panic, he checks to make sure I have more - we are in luck, I have 2 more! Ivy is now pushing her high chair around the kitchen like a walker while Owen plays a little piano at the table. Once the highchair is successfully pushed into a wall, the next logical thing to do is to empty the contents of my purse onto the kitchen floor. Owen starts laughing at the top of his lungs as he covers Ivy with stickers.

I look up to find Greg looking forlorn (def: Pitifully sad and abandoned or lonely) at the table with a taco. All of that and all the while he was just starving for a taco. I love him.

Owen just asked me if we can make some potato salad tonight cause he really wants some.


And in case you were wondering, that is why I don't get anything done at home.