Just Another Thursday

Here’s a glimpse into a typical Wallace day. Sometimes I can’t believe I get to spend every day with these precious gems. But they certainly keep me on my toes…

We kick off our day with a walk to the baseball field. Two babies in the stroller, one hanging onto the side. This is the way we roll.

I had the crazy idea we could go and come back without getting muddy. When will I learn? If there’s mud, my kids will find it. If there isn’t any, they’ll make some of their own (don’t ask me how).

Back at home it’s lunch and stories. Time to wind down for nap. But it wouldn’t be complete without spilling milk on the couch and leaving a little surprise for Mommy in the bathroom.

After nap I’m feeling ambitious. Target run? Yes! Their naps and feeds are perfectly synced – it’s now or never. When we arrive I manage to snag the jumbo cart. This thing was designed for me. I feel empowered…like I’m driving a tank. But as soon as the kids are settled –

I tease Dave that he always only has plan A. But I’m a Thompson. We have plan A-Z for any and every situation. We’re not about to go back home. My tank – I mean, cart – won’t fit in the bathroom stall, but I have a plan. Safe inside the HUGE family sized fitting room I have each boy take one last drink from the sippy and bid it farewell. Then…we take care of business.

Don’t worry, church nursery workers – the sippy is no longer in circulation. William never questioned what we were doing. He simply exclaimed, “I’m so proud of myself!” These are the survival years, folks. Sometimes it’s not pretty.

Safe at home, dinner is over and the day is coming to a close. Dave has to work late so I’m left to conquer the evening on my own. Weapons of choice? Finger paints and crayons.

Yes, those are jumbo beads around my neck. My boys know how to make Mommy feel beautiful.

Once the kids are settled in bed for the night (well, for the first shift anyway), I’m released to make a Starbucks run. Thanks, honey. 🙂 Freedom – I can taste it! And it tastes like a salted caramel mocha. But when I get back home the two-year-old is up.

Apparently he heard the van drive away when he was in his bed and he thought Mommy ran away. Nothing some extra snuggles can’t fix.

Me: Mommy will never run away from you. I love you.
William: Ok. Can I stay up?
Me: No.

So now it’s 9:30pm. The two-year-old went back to sleep but now the baby is up. The Target bags are still not unpacked and there are globs of paint yet to be cleaned up. All signs of a truly successful day.

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