What do you get

when you cross one mom with four school-aged kids who interrupt each other for over an hour and a half -- each interjection beginning with "MOM"  .  .  .  like, "Mom, can I pack Cheetos in my lun," shouted over with "Mom, I can't do this math homewor," stepped all over with "Mom, I need someone to go upstairs with me so tha  .  .  ."  

SOoooo what do ya get? 

Utter brain explosion -- a late-30's-ish introvert that makes that girl from the Exorcist look relaxed.  Something that would make my friend, Becca, laugh hysterically.  (Not really, she can just picture this from our days together at the JH.)

Now, mind you, I did good 'n' all, holding up a calm hand to the interrupter as I maintained attention on talking child #1, and then moved on to child #2 and pausing only momentarily to tell children #3 & 4 "wait a minute," without looking away from child #2, and so on, and so on, and onnnnnn.  All was calm on the outside until the inside began to short-circuit from the nonstop modeling, teaching, and reinforcing of waiting and taking turns.  Then, it got to be toooo much, and I've realized that my hyper organized evening organization of organized lists of organization needs some additional rearranging and tightening.  And that all seems like a lot, but golly gee -- I don't really want them to see any steam roll out of my ears or my head pop off.  Wouldn't be pretty, not pretty at all.

Hmph.  Feelin' silly and stupid, but really, such intense and constant stepping all over each other to get at me was not difficult to redirect and about-face previously, when we were merely doing clean up around the house or engaging in leisure activities.  I guess lunch-packing, homework, and clothes-picking-outing are adrenalized, take-no-prisoners kinds of business for them.

Or maybe it was the Kashi granola.  I know that's healthy, nutrient-rich stuff  .   .  . and I was generous with the crunchy topping on the fruit-yogurt parfaits I made for the vital after-school snack  .  .  . 

Hmm.  (rub chin with thumb and opposing forefinger)  After contemplation of no scientific data, I blame the Kashi.  But, just as back-up, I'm revamping how we go about our evening "to do" lists.

Bon nwit!  (crash into smooshy pillow of heaven with a sigh)