Today, I struggled.

Most days I am able to be a mother of three with some degree of patience and a large ability to laugh things off. Today was not one of those days. In reality, the last three days have not been those days. I swear, there is good reason I call my son the Hurricane. Yesterday was a day not quite as "busy" for him as Monday was, but he was seriously testing the boundaries. Today, he was bulldozing the boundaries and anything else in the way.

Hurricane and the Princess were both up before I was; the Hurricane decided that Cheerios for breakfast are so last week. Instead, he thought it would be a good idea to raid my baking cupboard and have candy canes for breakfast. (I have a great cookie recipe that calls for candy canes, so I bought extras after Christmas.) I spent the first twenty minutes of my day picking up slobbery candy cane wrappers and picking stuck on bits of candy cane off the couch and floor. Not to mention wiping sticky fingerprints off of everything. And vacuuming candy cane off the rug.

Wednesdays are my days to visit with my coffee buddy R. (I don't drink coffee but she is gracious enough to forgive this serious character flaw.) R. has a 3 year old son and he and the Hurricane get along famously. We went for a picnic at the splash park, so I decided to bring the "practice cake" I was planning to make anyways. (My sister asked me to bake a cake, so I needed to practice this new recipe first.)

I made the cake, and was running a bit behind our scheduled meeting time of noon. In the midst of me trying to get both babies bags packed and all three kids ready to go, the Hurricane runs through the livingroom where I am changing baby butts. On his way through, he says, "MomImadeabigmessinthekitchen," and continues to race up to his room. Here is what I walked into:

That is half a canister of flour on the floor. At this point of the morning, I have still been in 'patient mom' mode where I ask politely two or three times before I stop asking and start sending the Hurricane to his room or kick him outside. So, still being 'patient mom,' I laugh and get the vacuum out. I figure I should take a picture of this (as proof to Hot Stuff that I am not sitting on the couch eating bon-bons and watching Dr. Phil. Hot Stuff doesn't need to know that mostly I am hiding in a corner drinking booze.), but I can't find my camera. The Hurricane informs me that my $400 camera (aka the most expensive camera I have ever owned) is outside.

So now my hair is starting to curl around my ears, what with the steam pouring out. Hurricane has been told at least a gazillion times that the camera, the computer, and anything else that does not belong to him are off limits. Then, I walk into the livingroom to put the vacuum away. Where I see every single cushion from the couches is in a pile on the floor.

We finally meet up with R. at 12:15 because I was busy yelling at the Hurricane to leave his sister alone and find his other sandal. Which he never did. Which I couldn't find either. He rode to the splash park in one sandal. We had a fantastic time at the splash park; the boys played so well together and R. and I had a great visit.

The Hurricane started up again in the car on the way home. Purposely yelling and screaming to make his brother and sister, who were both exhausted, cry. I snapped. I pulled over, leaned into the back, and gave him supreme shit at top volume. It made his screaming stop.

By the time we got home, I was done. Stick a fork in me done. I made him go to his room and stay there until dinner was ready. He was acting up at dinner so he was sent to get his pj's on immediately after he was done. I let him play for a bit after he was ready for bed, but then he started in again with the behaviours, so he got sent to bed. Some days, this kid makes me crazy. I love him fiercely, but these past few days he is living on cute.