"Your Car Flies!" and other stories

Kids... check. Car seats... check. Sippy cups and Cheerios... check. Purse (converted into diaper bag)... check. Seatbelts... check. Ready for take-off.

There is a particular street I drive down when the girls and I go somewhere. We call it "the flying street." Partly, this refers to my driving habits (and if you have ever driven with me... well, you know). There are several large dips in the flying street that I sail over at a blistering 30 mph. Taylor loves this, quealing with glee, "Miss Carey, your car flies!" (I wish.) I think Taylor would do that all day... or at least until my car fell apart.

This morning was relatively quiet. We watched The Little Rascals while Taylor talked incessantly about Prince Charmy. I think that's rather funny because she talks about him more than I do. Taylor has drawn enough pictures of Charmy to fill a small art museum (which is basically what the fridge is).

Before lunch, we made a pilgrimage to the library -- one of the girls' favorite places to visit (for which I am very thankful). By the time we left, I had a stack of 8 books and 2 VHS tapes in my left hand, diaper bag/purse over the same shoulder, toddler on right hip, keys that I had to fish for in some pocket, and a talkative four-year-old tagging close behind.

The grocery store was next -- one item, fifteen minutes. Everything takes three times as long when you have kids in tow. As I was paying for my one item, Taylor suddenly shouted, "I have to go potty!" I motioned her to turn down the volume, but as we walked towards the restroom Taylor began singing "Potty, potty!" to the tune of "Jingle Bells." (Yes, that's right.)

Finished with her business, Taylor ran to the sink to wash her hands. An older woman watched us.

"Two red-heads... how did you manange that?" she asked, observing my blonde hair.

"Their grandma has red hair, but I'm just the nanny."

"Oh," she smiled.

An hour and several macaroni noodles later, Gracie is now down for a nap and Taylor coloring pictures in her room (of Prince Charmy, no doubt). This small window of time in the afternoon is sacred. I can momentarily catch my breath to write or read.

To all mothers -- I salute you. To my mother -- did I really say I wanted six kids??