S.O.S.

I think that today I had a large blinking beacon protruding from my head, sending out little distress signals in every direction. From my next door neighbor to my favorite checkout mama at the Co-op, people were admonishing my children to "Be good to your Mama today." I guess they could see that maybe I needed a little somethin' extra today.

Now that all boys are in bed, I assess my day as Mostly Sunny. But the tides were flowing in and out today, and there were moments I felt like I was drowning.

Sometimes they just don't listen! I ask them to stop. I tell them to stop. I physically prevent them from doing whatever it is they are doing to each other and they keep on doing whatever it is they're doing.

I leave them screaming, each in designated chill out spaces, and I step outside hoping the fresh air will clear my head and restore my patience. My neighbor holds the baby and sympathizes.

Of course they go back to playing in ways that don't inflict bodily harm or cause all of the neighborhood dogs to start howling, but the peace is brief and fleeting. I have to get all three boys to a soccer game by myself. In the middle of the afternoon when my 2 year old is at most risk of falling asleep in the car. And I have to bring the stinking snack. Which I haven't yet bought.

Soooo...I head to the Co-op and somehow make it through. Although they fight over who can put the avocados in the cart. And Owen wants another artichoke. And Eli's crying because he doesn't want the straw to make that sound when he gets to the bottom of his smoothie! And I'm bouncing while walking to keep Axel asleep in the sling while we shop. And as we're checking out, my favorite cashier picks up my Distress Signal on her Mama Radar and tells my boys to "Be good to your Mama. Because she's always so good to you."

I walk out and bump into my friend Megan, my Mama Mentor. Everyone needs a friend like this - someone who has kids a little older than yours so she's been through it before you. Just chatting with Megan for three minutes while our kids pulled on our skirts and my baby charmed her nine year old took me down a notch on the stress meter.

And off I went to the soccer game, where I try to watch Owen play and keep Axel from eating too much grass and restrain Eli from joining the Big Kids on the field. Things are going relatively well when Eli tells me, "Mama, I'm starting to pee in my diaper."

As thrilled as I am that he's choosing to roll with the potty training, I tell him to just go in his diaper since I've got a baby strapped to my body and I'm watching the game and there's no toilet in sight. He's quiet for a couple minutes (which any mother of a toddler should take as a warning) and then he tells me again "I don't want to pee in my diaper!"

No problem, right? He's a boy. We can walk to the edge of the park and he can pee in the grass. Except Eli has failed to mention one little detail. He is full of shit. Literally. Although he has not yet peed in his diaper, the dry Pull Up I have just pulled down was holding a heavy load that I just smeared all over his butt and legs. And I have no wipes. Or extra diapers.

So I pass off my sleeping baby, run to the car for wipes, clean him up and let him go Commando in his pants. And while I'm running back from the garbage can on the other side of the park, trying to catch a glimpse of Owen galloping around on the soccer field, I hear Eli yell proudly, "Mama I peed!" And there he stands, with his pants at his ankles, his little wiener dangling free in the breeze, and pee all over his legs and pants. Awesome.

A few cool moms I didn't even know (one with flame decals on her minivan!) must have been tracking my Distress Signal and offered me some extra wipes to clean him up and somehow the baby managed to get a nice nap through it all. Owen had more fun playing Goal Monster than soccer, but at least he had a good time.

We got home with only two hours to kill before Daddio gets home from work, and the boys filled the time picking radishes and throwing the frisbee and making the dog an unwilling target for a game of chase. And as stressful as the high tides were, by the time John got home we were happily playing on a dry beach.

Tomorrow will have its moments, I'm sure. But we'll make it through, like we always do. And if you happen to see a blip on your radar screen, don't worry. It's probably just me.