Day 4

In updating my resume, I've added "talking clock."  I'm sure that somewhere it is just as necessary in the real world as it seems to be in our house. It's ironically the only words I say that anyone hears--perhaps because it never goes beyond 5 syllables. "7:23!", "7:35!", "7:43!" I occasionally throw in a "people" when I think I might have their attention for seven syllables, as in, "7:45, Peeee-pole!"
Dear God, I'm a cuckoo clock. With a tude.

Day 3

I'm totally not gonna get soup tonight. I really really wanted some. But apparently when one decides to go to the grocery store in a fog after swim lessons, it's best to have your wallet with you. Shame on me.  So, refusing to be defeated I made a suggestion: ultra nutrious drozen or frozen (f'n autocorrect) pizza for the kids, and for us: Chinese delivery--you can get whatever you want, I just want soup. But it is 8:15 and this town closes at 9 and wrestling practice has started in the kids' room between all three male occupants and if someone "looks into the half" one more time we may never eat. I really want the boys to feel confident at the State Tournament this weekend, so I will not allow myself to break it up. I just wish there was maybe a soup fairy--our tooth fairy's far more punctual, "type A" sister or brother, perhaps.
My "soup fairy" just came downstairs, sighed and punctuated the sigh with profanity. The little Seinfeld Soup Nazi just sang out in my head.
But wait, through what yonder light does this fairy appear with the ancient papyrus of choice? We have but a wee few minutes to decide!!!! SOUP! I shall have soup. 

Day 2

Dear ER technician, I hath been gifted thy germ trifecta--all germs that  plagued our kids have declared me the "ultimate host." Yet, I am confused. It seems that there has been a mistake. While I have accepted the new reigning position of "Ultimate Host" my prior responsibilities have not been transferred?! It appears that even as reigning germ queen I am still able to be woken with a child vomitting on the bed, a bedwetting accident, a child vomitting in the sink, breakfast to be made, as well as a couple lunches awaiting their construction. I would like to propose that upon receiving the title of "Ultimate Host," said recipient is relieved from previous duties as she now has new ones that consist of sleeping and drugging and excessive bathroom use. It has been my observation that this proposal is not unique to other family members but has yet to be applied to said "Ultimate Host" unless said host is hospitalized. Therefore, it was only under the most dire of circumstances that I drank an excessive amount of cough syrup in hopes of landing in your establishment for a day or so. Unfortunately, it seems that it was unsuccessful and all that it has done has made the journey to do the laundry much like an adventure from Jumanji.

We are very 5,7 and 9

So...it's been a while since I last updated you on the ever-evolving house of crazy. And it is because a leap has taken place. A quantum leap--and we are now surrounded by three school age, non-toddler, clear speaking, extra-curricular participating, weekend stealing children. And, in turn, though it may not look like it on the outside, I have also made a leap. A leap from "Speedy Disaster Averter of  all things Balanced and Elevated" to "Cab-Driving Referee."
Which means that while it may appear that I am resting on the kitchen counter with my head in my hands like a napping ostrich, I am really strategizing the best route for an afternoon of pick-ups and drop-offs as well as visualizing which bags of  swim gear, leotards, singlets, or shin guards will come with me including the accompanying snacks for the appropriate taste buds all while mapping out the the most fuel efficient path.
Once I make my first "rendezvous" the sheer joy of being reunited with each other is so overwhelming that they cannot help but spread their glee by sharing each others stories, while talking over one and other, spiraling into criticisms and thus my blasting of the radio. Which brings me to my WHOLE point which is, "This is why our 5yr old knows all the words to the song that ends, '...the bar closes and you feel like falling down...I'll carry you home tonight.' "