Two noteworthy exceptions:

1. Sage calls most woodwinds oboes and most stringed instruments cellos. [This, I think, is a tribute to Becca (oboe) and Heather (cello), who she’s observed practicing many times.]

2. When I held up my flute in Primary and asked if anyone knew what it was, a sweet little 5 year-old confidently said, “That’s a trombone!” [Close, but no cigar.]

Since I am working on my master’s degree in motherhood, I am always on the lookout for a great thesis for the day or my life. Today’s thesis might be something like this. This morning=Murphy’s Law in the flesh. In fact, if a little bell rang out every time Murphy’s Law kicked into gear this morning, it might have sounded like the Ukrainian Bell Carol around here.

The morning began with Sage in my face at the side of my bed whispering to me that her bed was soaking wet. Darn it. I knew we should have waited to put her diaper on until after the pumpkin carving last night. Naturally, as Murphy’s law would dictate, I finished the last of, count them, FIVE batches of last week’s vacation laundry last night.

By the time I was done changing Sage’s sheets, I began to wonder why my head was pounding. Oh yes. A late night of blogging and ridiculous internet surfing ended a mere 6 hours ago. Maybe Sage would want to snuggle back into her nice fresh sheets, and I would gladly follow her lead.

Instead, for some reason, and for the first time in her life, Sage decided that she wanted to be fully dressed within 30 seconds of waking up. She didn’t even make it to the dresser to look for the day’s outfit. She yanked open the dryer and began rummaging. She procured some flowered jeans, and a clashing striped shirt. Although I rolled my eyes, I knew better than to open my mouth, since I was disinclined to hear the first tantrum before breakfast.

It is unlike Sage to get through a task without at least 17 distractions, so I was surprised to be sent off to find shoes and socks as soon as her pants were buttoned up. My shock came as much from being allowed free reign on finding a nice matching pair of shoes as from the passion with which she wanted to be ready for the day! Just when I thought I might be able to pop in a nice educational movie (or really any movie that she’d accept) and head back for the pillow, Sage commanded me to fix her hair. My brush was still missing from the vacation, and I realized that Eliza had commandeered my squirt bottle (again) for her own 1-year-old purposes. Thank you Murphy.

When Sage’s hair was fixed, without missing a beat, Eliza’s morning wakeup cry rang out on the monitor. It also rang out clearly without the monitor, since our house is indisputably not large enough to need a monitor (at least when I’m not under the influence of extreme sleep deprivation…usually related to some addicting blog called Midnight Musings).

My first big break came as my dear husband beat me to Eliza’s door (not hard to do considering I could barely walk straight), swooped Eliza up, sent me back to bed, changed Eliza’s diaper, fed the kids, and woke me an hour later when he had to leave (undoubtedly later than he had originally intended).

When I woke up an hour later, I could walk and see much more clearly—well enough to notice that my face was still sporting a half dozen monster zits. If only Halloween were today. I could be Rudolph.

Next Murphy excitement was when Eliza picked up a marker, rammed it down her throat, and induced vomiting. Now I wasn’t around to see what she had for breakfast, but I was around to see that she undoubtedly ate a small feast.

A break from Murphy’s Law came in the arrival of Danielle and Jacob. Danielle, the most amazing pregnant woman I know, jumped right in and started cleaning up Eliza’s donation to the morning excitement. What a trooper, and what a stomach of steel. I feel like I was a pretty strong pregnant woman, but I still refused to clean the toilet. I mean totally refused.

Danielle was great. Between the two of us, we cleaned up Eliza, the floor, and kept three interested kids from investigating the mess. The casualty was the overlooked marker that induced this special moment. It was overlooked by me, but not by Curious George in human form--Jacob. He popped it right in his mouth. Sorry, Danielle.

The fun continues. Once separated from the marker, Curious George wandered off to find new fun. I was putting new clothes on Eliza when I heard Danielle scream, “No, Jacob, no!” which was followed by, “The fish!” I heard the splash, and knew instantly that Murphy was at work again. I put Eliza down, and ran to my bedroom, climbed into bed, and pulled the covers over my head. Wait, no, that’s what I wanted to do. Really I rushed into the kitchen to see what I knew had happened.

Now, I know I’ve got a good thesis statement, because I’m sure you can guess whether the overturned fish tank had been recently cleaned or not. This means that the kitchen table, highchair and floor were not only covered with two wriggling fish, but also with lots of floaties.

This picture was taken a couple of weeks ago when Curious George overturned the pitcher of strawberry lemonade. Can you see the lemonade on the table? That's what it looked like today, except today the water was greyish and the chunks didn't look or smell as nice as strawberries.

The second thesis statement (is that allowed?) for this entry is that I am surrounded by angel friends: Danielle, Mark, and many others. Danielle wins the halo award today, because with calm composure, she grabbed my dish gloves and rescued the slippery goldfish from a dry grave.

[May I take a moment to mention that a week ago, my brother-in-law, Jordan, saw Jacob reaching his hand into the fish tank. Jordan was curious as to what Jacob would do if he actually caught the fish, so he sat back and watched. There were no halos awarded that day.]

Apology #1

To: anyone (especially those without children) that had contact with me between the hours of 5:30pm-7pm today (or during the same hours on any other day in which Sage refuses to nap, Eliza’s two naps total 47 minutes, and I went to bed late the night before).

For: emotional damage (please don’t make any drastic decisions about future family planning)

Apology #2

To: the kitchen staff at Coney’s (a frozen custard place)

For: the very sticky booth we left, and the number of times Eliza snuck in to tour the kitchen while I was trying to buy three rounds of frozen custard. [How was I supposed to know Eliza wanted more than half of MY cone, and that Sage was unwilling to take the vanilla cone, and that frozen custard is so addicting, and that I would eat half of the one we were taking home for Mark before Sage said, “Save some for me, too, Mommy!”???]

Apology #3

To: the husband