The Witching Hour

What's your "witching hour" like? If you are a parent, no doubt you have heard this term used in reference to none other than your own sweet children. If you haven't heard this term, let me explain. When my sons were littler (infant and toddler...eek!), the witching hour was that time in the evening when it isn't quite dinner time yet, definitely not bedtime, too late for nap-time, and the children are tired, fussy and no doubt underfoot while you try to be productive by cooking said dinner, opening mail, straightening up the house...whatever.  I will admit to lots of help from my parents during this time of day (we all lived together then) and lots of...ahem....cartoons. Yes, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse was a Godsend when dinner needed to be made! 

Last night I am starting dinner, and laughing to myself as the witching hour descends upon my house. I always tell Barrett that I cannot talk or text much after the kids get off the bus before he gets home. Why? Because it is plain craziness this time of day! Last night I congratulated myself with a pat on my super-woman caped shoulders for being patient, efficient, friendly and mommy-like while only snapping at a child once (Mind you this is when I was pouring pancake batter on the griddle, listening to Matt's pj day plight, and Isaiah asks for a glass of water-which he does darn well how to get for himself). 

For illustration purposes, and reminders of what you have already been through or have yet to conquer as a parent, last night looked something like this. I am cooking breakfast for dinner, and have turkey bacon sizzling in the pan and banana cinnamon (my specialty) pancakes laid out on the griddle when the witching hour begins. Here come two hyper boys off the "rabbit bus" (called so because of the pink rabbit picture on it). Matthew is in a complete, close to meltdown tizzy (my sweet husband says he gets this from me, lol!) as he comes in. 

"Mom, my class earned a pajama day tomorrow and we get to bring stuffies to school and everything...BUT I have to wear my Cub Scout uniform for the assembly!" My sweet child is near tears as Mom comes up with the plan that he take jeans and his uniform shirt and wear pjs, and just ask his teacher nicely if he can change for the assembly. Ah...disaster #1 diverted.  Just then a panicked Isaiah comes running into the kitchen from his room. He had been quietly munching on Angry Bird cheese crackers. "Mom?! Can you please feed my fish when I'm at school? I keep forgetting!" It is all I can do not to burst out laughing. Isaiah remembers to feed his poor fish like once a week, does he really think Mr. Fishy has managed to live this long on those measly rations?! I feed the poor, dumb fish daily. But I smile and tell Zay that yes, Mama can feed his fish when he is gone. I send the boys off to do their daily after-school tasks which is mainly emptying their backpacks (making sure I get anything I need to see), laying out school clothes for tomorrow, showering, reading homework in the kitchen with me, and maybe a chore or two-yesterday they had clean laundry to put away. It is the same everyday, but each day you'd think I made this routine up and pulled it out of my magic hat as I try to herd the little kittens into their duties. 

Matt (who is supposed to be cleaning the toilet-a chore we taught him that he hates) sidles up to me in the kitchen. "I got a part in the Holiday program." Me: "you did? that's great Hun. Did you have to try out?" "No, I just told my teacher I wanted one." Me: "What are you?" "Either a reindeer, a dinosaur, or Santa." Me: "That's awesome Matt." Then I think to myself why the heck are there dinosaurs in a Christmas program? At this time Isaiah hears talk of the program and comes running back into the kitchen to sing part of a song for me. I listen, laugh, then herd the children back to their tasks as I flip pancakes and start to make the made-to-order eggs. Sometimes it's scary how much like me Matthew is. He must have been on the same track in his mind, because he appears again to me out of his room. "Mom, the Christmas program is not very Christmassy. There's all these dumb songs about other things, and none about Jesus." Me: "Well at least you boys know the true meaning of Christmas." Him: "Yeah, it's just weird to sing about dinosaurs at Christmas

time." I could not agree more. He runs off to clean the toilet and calls out "Do I have to clean the inside?" Wow. I am laughing as I say "yes, that's the most important part." The witching hour includes Isaiah bringing me a book that we HAVE to read tonight, as well as 3 items of clothes that he just can't fold (but wants Mom to do for him). Matthew tells me his hair is getting too long, and that he needs a "buttload of cheese" on his eggs and we momentarily ponder what exactly a "buttload" is, and Isaiah insists that he needs a bubble bath, not a shower, so that he can be a crocodile in the tub. Oh, and he also needs me to get down his octopus decoration that he made in craft class last summer, as it needs to go to Show and Tell. 

Somehow, miraculously, one hour later when Barrett pulls up at home, dinner is warm and ready on the table. The boys are in their pjs doing reading homework, and the chaos has died down significantly. You;d have never known the absolute madness that existed only moments before. What is your witching hour like?