Biden my time

Yesterday was hectic. I really wanted to watch the debate with others and yell at the TV, but I had agreed to deal with the kids while Katie had her book group at the house. I made the mistake of taking the kids out (tired, as they are wont to be on a Thursday night) for dinner and basketball.

So we are on our way home at 7, and Owen is being contrary, egging Nathan on, and Nathan is being his almost 3 self, bitching about whatever happens (good or bad), and them both exhausted. So I promise:
1) Chocolate milk
2) Licorice (in straw form)
3) Movie (upstairs, in mommy and daddy's room, to avoid the book group).

So once we get upstairs (which was no easy feat), and my temple veins are throbbing, we finally get Space Jam on. A short aside here: Space Jam kicks ass. From the horrible Barkley/Ewing/Shawn Bradley acting to Danny DeVito voicing the bad guy, to my kids loving to sing along with "I believe I can fly", the movie really has it all.

So what happens? 5 minutes in, Nathan craps his pants. This is a bigger deal than it used to be, because Nathan wears underwear now. Now this means he's gonna need a bath, which we were going to get away without. It also means I have to drag him away from Space Jam, just before Barkley's talent gets drained away and Vlade Divac gets worried that this is a strange virus he can get from the locker room.

This involved a lot of screaming. Not so much fun. Then the bath, and Nathan flat out refuses to sit down, screaming constantly. It's a battle. It's on. I lose. I take washcloths and clean the crap off his butt and legs. Then come the jammies. And I'm close to snapping here.

Long story short: Nathan crashed hard... Owen was a saint, and I watched the debtate on TiVo. It all worked out, but man...

Tonight: The Silly Sox Hop. Enough said.