En Garde!

Today I had the luxury of staying home with my babies. This is a rare occurrence for us, even when I do have a day off we usually have doctor's appointments, errands to run, elderly family members to take care of, a world to take over (you know usual stuff). Well today we decided to be on strike. It was so snowy and I didn't want to go through the torture of snowsuits and carseats. 

I woke up at 730am to my husbands alarm blaring and smacked at him to turn it off before it could wake the kids. He somehow managed to turn it off without even interrupting his snore-fest. I laid in bed awake starring at the top bunk. Oh right I haven't even mentioned this, we are staying at my parents' house for a month while we wait for our new house to be ready. It's been as good as it can be when you end up moving home as a full grown adult with your own family. Nobody is thrilled about the situation (including Isaac he keeps asking to go to is own home), but we are all managing to keep the peace pretty well and survive each other. Honestly there has been some pretty nice perks like my dad does almost all the cooking and grocery shopping, plus my mom has helped come up with some creative solutions to the toddler tantrums. The downside is there isn't any good way to infringe on someone's space and we don't have our own things here as there isn't that much space so it means sleeping in the same room as Zoey on the bunk beds my parents got for the kids (when they are bigger). 

Back to the story... so we continued our lovely morning ritual of blaring alarm, smack the husband, alarm turns off, hold my breath and pray the kids stay asleep for a little longer. Finally after the 53rd alarm of the morning his highness rolled out of bed and got ready for the day. To his credit he was incredibly quiet and managed to leave for work without waking the kids. By 930am the blissful quiet was rudely interrupted by the tiny hooligans demanding a cereal sacrifice. Several bowls of the sugary, colourful, Pixar fish brand cereal and a couple episodes of Paw Patrol later we were allowed to leave the kitchen for a more comfortable place, the playroom floor. I tried to sneak a cushion onto the floor so I could at least not have my white girl booty freeze off from the frost covered floor but that caused sheer panic for my beasts, "Mom don't take the chair pillow! The chair will get cold mom! Brrrr, it's a popsicle." I convinced the minions to move into the living room and just bring some toys out but it meant enduring several more episodes of Paw Patrol.

When my brain finally snapped after one episode too many of the mayor losing her purse chicken and all the incompetent adults depending on talking dogs to save them I decided to engage my children in a new game. I do not know what I was thinking, clearly I wasn't. For some reason I thought it would be a brilliant idea to teach them sword fighting. They were utterly delighted at this development. Not only was I actually giving them direct attention but they were suddenly allowed to hit each other with sticks! I must admit it was insanely fun and the two of them yelling "En garde!" as they jumped from cushion to cushion was hilarious. No one got hurt, and yes mom; I cleaned up the mess.