Chicken Fight

to go broody: (in hens) wishing or inclined to lay eggs (informally: when a woman gets a strong desire to have a baby)

The conversation in the car this morning went something like this:

3 year old Madeline: "Look, Aidan!....Aidan, look!....Aidan, AIDAN!" (I glance back to see her holding up a Scholastic Reading Club flier.) "Look!"
Liam starts wailing from behind me, most likely translated as: "COULD YOU PLEEEEEEASE GET ME OUT OF THIS SORRY EXCUSE FOR A SEAT WOMAN!"
"Aidan, LOOK!" Madeline shouts again.
Aidan, age 5, turns around to see. "Oh yeah. It's a rooster."
"No, it's not." Madeline argues.
Aidan, uncharacteristically calm says, "Yes, Madeline, it's a rooster."
Madeline, chuckles. "No, it's nahhhh-aht. He's from Chicken Little!" She insists....  

So, I must admit, when I went broody, I never imagined the kids squabbling in the rear of the car over chickens, whether roosters or Chicken Little or what. Seriously, how many of us ever thought about the squabbles that would one day take place? Although minor, this little one started the day out just right, prepping us for the witching hour (or as my mom also called it, suicide hour, although I am guessing that is not quite as PC....)

At any rate, 4:30 seemed to come rather early to our house. It is the time that the cleaning has begun, as well as the bickering over who has to pick up what and I hear at least a dozen times: "But Mom, I need your help! I CAN'T possibly EVER pick up this matchbox car and put it in that box without you!" Liam is rudely awakened by a fitful Madeline and a curious Lily (20 months). It is time for him to eat...can't you see that lady? I am hungry...(or "Hung-ar-y" as Madeline would say.) AND I MUST EAT AGAIN NOW, before pooping again and sleeping again and...

So, Kurt comes walking in to this scene: me burning the bacon and eggs with a baby on the boob, a chocolate covered Lily crawling across the kitchen counter (did I really leave the scissors there?), Aidan "picking up" legos (which oddly enough looks the same as him playing with legos) and Madeline running around in her underwear yelling, "I can't do it, Mom!" 

Well, so much for being June Cleaver.

And when we finally got the kids settled down and cleaned up, helped them set the table and had plates in front of them, I decide to tide them over with applesauce so that I can butter the toast. I hurriedly rush into the scene while opening the container and manage to trip, showering Aidan (as well as the floor and the chair across the room and the wall and everything in between...) in a substance that really doesn't wipe up as easily as you might think. The kids go silent, waiting for my reaction.


And I can't help but burst out laughing. Now that was what I call graceful...like a chicken. 

1 comment:

  1. What what talent for a sleep deprived, over worked, under appreciated stay at home mom...imagine what you can do when the time is your own....except the material you are getting from your little darlings is priceless...ofcourse since I know you, love your humor, and adore your children....I can so perfectly sit in the back seat and see all of this happening. Thanks for letting me see these moments in your life...I love them.
    I too have a blog...its on myspace, not as articulate as yours, probably more complaining less humorous..wish I had your humor honestly. Can't wait to read more....


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