One of those afternoons

I'm usually running in 15 different directions at once.

Blythe is doing home work, "Mom, how do you spell...," Peyton is tugging on my shorts holding a sippy cup, "Mo! Mo!" Jonah is over there having a complete emotional break down, about only Lord knows what. While all this is going on it the background, I'm thinking about how I still have to feed the horse and donkey, and the ducks, and the 5 dogs (dammed things are multiplying, and new ones randomly showing up. It's like people drive by and say, Hey! That house looks good! They already have 4 dogs, what's one more?!), and 8 cats (my momma cat, who's the best mouser ever, and the black ones are the only ones that are supposed to be here. We then had 5 kittens. And yet again, another randomly showing up animal, a yellow tom.) Oh, and don't forget to water the flowers. And this is all just while I'm cooking supper.

It's usually even worse during supper. This is how it goes:


*I take a bite* (+10 calories)
kid: momma, I need a spoon.
*I go get a spoon* (-15 calories)


*I take a bite* (+10 calories)
kid: momma. You forgot my drink
*Get drink* (-15 calories)


*I take a bite*
kid: momma. I think Peyton pooped.
*Throw spoon down, mumble words that shouldn't be said in front of small children, stomp off to the bathroom with the child, slam a few doors for good measures* (-100 calories)


*I take a bite* (+10 calories)
kid: momma. 
*ignoring kid, take another bite* (+15 calories)
kid: momma.
*still ignoring kid, take another bite* (+15 calories)
kid: MOMMA! I don't like this.
*I pitch a total fit* (-200 calories)


You know, give or take. 


So tonight I decided that I would fed the kids before I dropped them off at church, and once they were gone, I would then come home and eat with out having to hear "momma". 

Perfect plan. 


I came back home to the (outside) cat, sitting on the kitchen island. In the middle of all the food.

You know, with food hanging from her whiskers.


*sigh*


I just opened the back door all the way and pointed and she moseyed on out.


Bowl of cereal it is then.


Oh well, at least it was enjoyed without hearing "momma."