Fall

The weather here seems to be turning to fall... for real this time. I used to love fall weather. The trees lose their leaves, bright blue skies with interesting clouds, a light wind, long pants to hide my pale legs... Then I had kids. It's been fall weather here for *one* day, and I'm ready for summer again.

This morning, I decided, after Ivy woke up from what barely qualified as a nap, to take the kids to the playground in front of our building: literally a stone's throw away from our front door. Ok, wait, I need to give a little background here:

My kids run around like half naked heathens most of the time. I'd like to blame it on potty training for Eliot, and trying to give Ivy more traction (she's trying so hard to CRAWL already) but really, I'm just a lazy mother. So anyway, Eliot was wearing his pajama shirt... and that's all. Ivy was in a short sleeved onesie, and a diaper (already miraculous that she had two separate clothing items on simultaneously. Wait, do diapers count as clothing?) What was I saying? Oh yeah.

So I changed Ivy's diaper, took off her short sleeved onesie, and replaced it with a long sleeved onesie while she repeatedly rolled over to her tummy on the changing table, and I repeatedly flipped her onto her back, like a mentally disturbed adolescent torturing a beetle. Sigh. Then I had to find pants. And socks. And shoes. Ivy is six months old, and this is the first time she's worn shoes. Yes, I'm that mom.

Then I set Ivy on the ground to get Eliot ready. She immediately starts crying because, duh, she no longer can get any traction on the wood floors to get up on all fours and rock (Oh god! Get the camera! Getthecamera!She'sgoingtocrawlwhere'sthefreakingcamera) and collapse (nevermind).
"Eliot do you need to do a peepee before we leave?"
"NO!"
"Let's get dressed so we can go outside."
"NO!"
"Yes, you need to wear undies and pants to go outside. Do you want to go outside?"
"No! Can't get dressed! Want to be nakey-boy!"
"You can't be outside naked. It's too cold. Now LET'S GO!" I then chase him down and force his clothes on him.

Head for the door. Oops, I'm still in slippers and a tank top. Put on my shoes and jacket. Oh crap, forgot the kids' jackets. I wrestle them into their jackets. Now we are Ready.

We head outside. I forgot a blanket to lay Ivy on, so I set her directly on the germy playground rubbery all weather surface (Yes, I'm that mom too). I kick the cigarette butts out of her immediate reach . I watch Eliot play for about, say, 6 minutes. Then my dear son runs up to me. "Mommy, I gotta do a poopoo."

ARGH! So we RACE back upstairs, I strip off all clothing below his waist, and take Ivy's jacket off, as well as mine. I set her on the ground. She immediately starts crying. I take off her pants too, so that she has some traction to get up on all fours (Looklooklook, she's really going to crawl this time!!! where'sthecamerawhereisitwhere'stheCAMERA? *Slump* Nevermind). Eliot sits on the potty for about 5 seconds. "No poopoo. Let's go back outside!"

ARGH!!!

We didn't go back outside.