Facebook, four-year-olds, & chocolate pie

I recently came to the decision that Facebook is not the place to communicate with my mother and her somewhat nosy friends, among other people. This idea manifested shortly after a little girl I used to babysit friend requested me. (I feel old.) Let's be honest, college kids say and do stupid things. And it is downright exhausting to censor myself and three hundred other idiots my age. So I made use of the unfriend button, upped my privacy settings, and changed my name. I'm now doing intense research into how exactly prospective employers hack into your page... not that I have any notion to job hunt in the near future, seeing as my new life plan is to be a starving artist.

It was my inconceivable joy to watch the girls today for nine straight hours. My goal was to keep the seven-year-old, home sick, from moving...convince the recently contentious four-year-old to listen to me...and keep the impossible-to-please baby from screaming her cute little head off. This proved to be a tall order. I had to put Marcela, 4, into time-out for only the second time in the five months I've been watching her. Her new favorite word is no, and her new favorite look could kill. I told her she could come out when she was ready to behave, but she lasted thirty minutes in self-isolation. I'm oddly proud of her stubbornness.

At one point, I was carrying the screaming baby around while Marcela knocked a glass of water over onto a pile of paperwork just as Isabel started to throw a tantrum because her bun was coming loose and she was leaving for ballet class in two minutes. I'm not entirely sure that motherhood is for me. At least not motherhood of multiples.

By the time I left, I actually looked more haggard than I did when I showed up this morning. I did sneak a piece of chocolate pie before I left though. Pie makes everything better.