So many reasons not to flee sans kids to Mexico!

The boys are conspiring against me this morning. When one stops fussing, the other starts it up. After listening to Jacob fuss for about a half-hour, I finally got him to sleep and Isaac and I tried to color at the kitchen table, far away from where Jacob snoozed so as to not disturb His Royal Light-Sleeping Highness. But of course, such horrible things came to pass in the kitchen as the markers rolling off the table, or, God forbid, their caps falling on the floor, and then the coup de grace of Isaac falling off the cursed kitchen table chair for only fourteen millionth time. You would think his mother would put a different chair in there for him to sit on, one with arms or something, wouldn't you?

So there was the psycho-loud fussing, which of course woke up Little Prince I-Hate-Naps to join the fuss chorus. Then Isaac wants to play on the computer. Though I have tried to teach him to use the mouse many many times, all he seems to want to do with it when left to his own devices is to shine the red laser on the bottom into his eyes. Obviously he didn't read the section in the owner's manual that suggests NOT TO DO THAT. But, Isaac, hon, can I "pway coh-pee-der" with you when the Jakester is fussing like this? Okay, fine, I'll put Jacob in his chair yet again today. And then there's Mt. Laundrymore calling. And the trash that needs taken to the curb. And your father who needs me to email him some pictures for his class. And here it is, 10:30, we have no milk in the house and the coffee is cold and gone, and Jacob, can't you just lie down and take your tummy-time like a man?

GAH!

It's times like these when the only cure is retail therapy. Clinging to the impending nuptials of my brother and his long-time lady love, I bought Jacob a handsome dressy shirt with big blue stripes to match his eyes. And then, for Jacob's baptism the day afterwards, I bought Isaac a handsome yellow dressy shirt to compliment his golden locks. And it was on sale! Somehow buying clothes for them makes them seem less like rabid anklebiters and more like junior male models.