Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da

Yesterday as I backed my car out of the driveway, The Beatles’ Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da began to play on the radio.

The upbeat song about Desmond and Molly and then the family they create has always been one I’ve enjoyed. I have always been a huge Beatles fan, just as my husband is; that’s one of the first things we discovered we had in common when we began dating.

I listened to the song until the last notes played and quickly turned off the radio before another song or advertisement could begin. I often do this if I listen to a good song that I wish to keep hearing in my head and indeed, all day long I found myself humming the tune.

Ob la di, ob-la-da, life goes on, bra
La-la, how the life goes on
Ob-la di, ob-la-da, life goes on, bra
La-la, how the life goes on



-John Lennon and Paul McCartney

It was a crazy day at work. I felt over-stretched and like I would never get even half of my normal daily tasks completed, let alone all of the other projects and job duties that await.

Later in the afternoon, I stopped at my polling place after work to vote and then drove home. My husband and children hadn’t yet arrived so I began to clean the kitchen, one of my least favorite tasks.

I unloaded and loaded the dishwasher, wiped down the counters, scraped a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles sticker off of the linoleum floor, emptied the recycling, and threw away old leftovers from the refrigerator. As I worked I couldn’t wait to give my two littles lots of love and hugs.

In a couple of years they have built
A home sweet home
With a couple of kids running in the yard
Of Desmond and Molly Jones


-John Lennon and Paul McCartney

Soon enough I heard a, “Mama, mama, mama!” and my family was home. Lots of hugs and kisses were given. Abby showed me all the papers she brought home from preschool and then both kids went into the other room to play.

Five minutes later the kids were arguing about what to watch on Netflix. When I entered the living room I found Oscar had pulled his big sister down to the carpet and was sitting on her head. She couldn’t get up, so she was thrashing about and making growling noises. I separated them and made them each sit in a separate chair while I picked the program.

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Just a couple minutes afterwards I was interrupted while making dinner because Oscar had stolen Abby’s markers and was scribbling on the picture she had been drawing.

Next, there was a squabble over who got to play with a yellow rubber light up hedgehog, which ended with me taking the toy and each child hitting the other.

After mutual timeouts, they began to play in the living room again and then Abby was crying because her brother knocked over her tower of blocks. She tried to take his Elmo toy and then he was squealing and yelling, “No, Eee! No Eee!” (Eee is how he pronounces her name).

We sit down at the table to eat leftover tacos from the previous night and my son doesn’t want anything to do with his meal. My daughter decides to eat her soft taco from the middle of the tortilla instead of the end and drops taco meat all over the floor.

Abby tells me that she needs help getting down from her booster seat because her hands are dirty and she needs to use the restroom. I help her down and then deposit her in front of the bathroom. There, she refuses to wash her hands, saying that it was just a joke and she doesn’t really need to go potty. Oh, so funny.

I put her back in her booster seat and she loses more taco meat on the carpet. Two minutes later she swears that she has to pee and needs help down again.

After taking her to the bathroom again and going back to the table to sit with Oscar, I hear Abby crying in the bathroom. Instead of using the toilet or washing her dirty hands she had been just standing there the whole time and then decided that I needed to help her. So, I move the stool to the sink so she can wash her hands. This makes her more upset because, “I really need to pee!” she says.

I sit her on the toilet and she immediately tries on purpose to slide into the hole in the seat. Why? “I need help!” which is a bogus answer. So I pull her out of the toilet twice and tell her to wipe. I wash my hands and go back to Oscar.

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Again I hear crying from the bathroom. She is still on the toilet, yelling that she needs me to wipe her. Beyond frustrated at this point, I wipe her and wash my hands. When I turn around she is standing with her pants around her ankles complaining that she needs help to pull them up. I don’t know what she was so upset about and why she couldn’t use the toilet by herself but that is not normal.

After arriving back at the table she begins to whine that she wants Halloween candy and I remind her that she must finish her meal before any sort of snack and dessert will be considered.

Oscar ate a little of his taco meat but left everything else on his plate, and then inspired by his sister, he begins to pout and cry because he wants chocolate from his Halloween bucket too.

After cleaning the kids up I helped them into their pajamas and asked them to pick up the five million dinosaurs, Hot Wheels cars, and pieces of plastic pretend food that had been scattered all over the living room floor.

Good Lord, one would think by their response that I had asked them to walk across hot coals or something. Out of patience, I caved on that request quickly.

Even though it was only 7:30 p.m., I decided that I’d had enough and said that it was time to brush their teeth. My son readily complied and allowed me to brush his teeth, but Abby refused. She would not open her mouth. She stomped. She tried running away. She tried to hide. She began to cry. She called me a mean mom. My husband intervened and she finally allowed me to brush her teeth.

All that nonsense wasted half an hour and it was bedtime. My husband had to leave to go in to work for a scheduled software update so he told us goodbye. This upset the kids because they wanted Daddy and I wanted Daddy too.

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Abby refused to go to bed without me to snuggle her, which was impossible because that’s the only way Oscar will go to sleep. I tried to reason with her, but as any parent of an overtired four-year-old can tell you, that doesn’t work. She wouldn’t go to bed without me in bed with her.

Finally, I talked her into lying on the sofa with her pillow and favorite blanket until I had put her brother to sleep- knowing that she would fall asleep on the sofa and I could then transfer her to her bed. My plan worked, when I had finally gotten Oscar to settle down and go to sleep she was snoring on the sofa.

I carried her to her bed and held her close for a while, then prepared for bed myself.

I knew I should be up and cleaning, folding laundry, blogging, or doing a zillion other important things, but I was worn out and too frazzled by that point. I just went to bed.

This morning the whole circus started over again. Oscar chased his sister around the house growling like a dinosaur. Abby refused to go brush her teeth. It took ten minutes to wrangle them into their coats and even longer for them to pick out a toy to take to Grandma’s.

Patience, I remind myself.

I’m sure tonight will be filled with much of the same, plus it is bath night so I’m sure that will throw some extra excitement into the mix.

Ob-la di, ob-la-da, life goes on, bra
La-la, how the life goes on.

True to the song, life goes on. This crazy wonderful zany frustrating lovely tiring incredible time goes on.

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