outside's for suckahs.

As a stay at home mom to three charming, little maniacs, I often feel guilty for the things I don't do with them. Alone. By myself. Just me. The play dates I don't make. The outside I don't like to go out in. But they're crazy. And don't listen. And two-thirds of them hate whatever the one-third is doing, and try to escape. In two directions. I'm only one sleep deprived mom here. And I only got two arms. And a hip that likes to sieze up when I have to run. In two different directions.

So anyway, I usually ignore those guilty feelings, for indoor activities. But yesterday was Christmas, and we got them scooters, and helmets. And we live here, in New England, where the day after Christmas is of course 60 degrees. Daddy stopped by during his work day, and said, "I thought you'd be outside S-C-O-O-T-I-N-G..." he didn't look thrilled when I told him it was a two man job, so we'd wait til he got home.

So fine, whatever, I got them dressed, and outside we went.

For 38 seconds, all 3 of them S-C-O-O-T-E-D.

Then for 42 minutes, one tried to break into the car everytime I turned around, one tried going into the house over, and over, until I said we were going in, and then he hid behind the barrels, and one S-C-O-O-T-E-D.

I gave up the whole outside activity when Baduka ran through dog poop.

I then had to wrangle them all back in. Baduka was fine with it, because inside is where YouTube lives. The New Kid continued hiding by the barrels. Dizzy screamed, clinging to his scooter, repeating, "no in! NOOOOO IIIINNNN!" I managed to convince them over Dizzy's tears, that it was because they needed lunch.

Oh, and that dog? The one who's poop was the reason we were going back inside? Who had been outside with us, for all 42 minutes? Running, barking, and having a grand ole doggy time?

He came in, and promptly threw up all over the kitchen floor.