They were the best of times...they were the worst of times

Remember earlier today when I wrote about these being the sweetest, best days....the days of my children's youth?

Between the hours of 5:00 pm and 7:48 pm........

I tried to remember that when N was crying because she wanted to watch all of Barbie Thumbelina and still go outside after supper. And I had to explain to her that she has to sometimes make choices.....there isn't enough time to do her homework, watch all of the DVD, eat supper and go outside.

I tried to remember that when G started fussing that he wanted to eat but then refused applesauce, raisins, pizza rolls and a slice of cheese.

I tried to remember that when G kept crying over something related to his new digger, but we never were entirely sure what the problem was. But he just kept crying and carrying on and throwing the digger every opportunity he got.

I tried to remember that when 7 minutes after I got N and G to the park playground, N starts doing her St. Vitus' dance which is indicative of imminent urine leakage, requiring me to haul both kids and my 38 week pregnant ass halfway across the park premises to the bathrooms.

(After I complete this post, I will be printing a sign in large, bold letters: GO TO THE POTTY BEFORE YOU LEAVE THE HOUSE!!! and taping it to the back door.)

I tried to remember that upon returning home when I ran bath water since N got muddy at the park, and G pitched a grand mal fit because neither D nor I would let him put his new Mac truck in the bathwater.

And now, at 8:39 pm, both of the children are in bed, either asleep or lulling themselves there, and so peace reigns once more. And so my head starts to think once again...."these are the best days."