The Rest of the Story (Part 2)

Making dinner with three kids around requires multitasking.  Especially when the kids have birthday parties to go to later in the evening.  I'm cutting up vegetables, helping the oldest with homework, panfrying the hotdogs, grating cheese, keeping the baby away from hot things and sharp objects, and being followed around by the 5 year old who wants to make sure for the 15th time that I know when the party is and when we must leave.  She also wants me to help her write out a birthday card.  

All I'm hearing is the sound of food cooking, I'm listening for tell-tale sounds of the baby getting into something, and Aurora following me around going "bursdag kort, bursdag kort, bursdag kort..."  I don't know the word for "later" in Norwegian so I list of to her the things that must happen first.  Magnus has to pee and I have to finish cooking.  Of course, I have to repeat this several times, with interruptions.  So Magnus is standing at the sink and hearing "Magnus tysser, Magnus tysser" over and over.  So he does what he thinks I'm telling him to do.  

I turn around when I hear the noise.  It's simulaneously the most hilarious thing and the most horrifying thing I could witness.  I quickly swallow my laugh, and follow him as he runs happily away into the living room.  I don't get mad at him, but we do have a talk about what the sink is for.  It's for washing, not peeing.  He agrees, but is still quite satisfied with himself.  

We manage to get through dinner without incident (the hotdog and cheese pitas were a success), now it's time to get the older kids ready for their party.  The older kids are getting on their party clothes, and it's dawning on the baby that he doesn't have a birthday party to go to.  Reality really sets in when Aurora leaves for her party.  And I can see in his face, he's completely crushed.

Crap.  This is really bad.  I creep into the room where Magnus is and I whisper to him to come over.  He comes over to hear what I have to say.  I tell him "shhh! You don't have a birthday party to go to, but you have something better."  His face lights up immediately.  I'm sweating bullets now.  I'm hoping my plan, which I'm making up as I go along, actually delivers and I don't just manage to to get his hopes up to dash them even further.  

"Okay," I whisper, "first we have to get you dressed in birthday clothes."  I let him pick out his shirt from the nce button down shirts he has in his closet.  I also find a pair of pants that haven't been worn.  I tell them they are his "birthday pants."  He's beaming now.  He's got teeny-tiny wing tip shoes he also wants to wear, it's raining outside and I don't think that's the best idea, so I quickly tell him no, there's better shoes to wear.  He's been dying to wear his brand new indoor shoes outside, so I tell him he can.

Now he's dressed and wants to know what we're doing.  I'm still putting that part together in my head with limited luck.  Do I take him to McDonald's?  A different playground (gah, can't do that, it's raining)?  So I tell him, with as much grandeur as I can muster, we're going to go get chocolate and he can pick out whatever he wants.  He looks as me and asks if he can have two chocolate treats.  Yes, I tell him grandly, he can have two chocoaltes.  Now he's excited.  Very excited.  I secretly breathe a sigh of relief that I was able to pull together an evening that would make any toddler happy.  

We drop off Matthias and then we go to pick out the chocolate.  The whole way to the store he's chanting "to ookelade, to ookelade."  I ask him if he wants chocoalte or chocolate icecream.  

His face lights up again "I can have icecream?"  

"Of course," I reply.  "You can have whatever you want."  

Now the chant turns into, "To ookelade is, to ookelade is..." I join him in the chanting.  

We get to the store and I get him a toddler shopping cart.  I stop by the soda isle to get myself some diet coke, and he asks "can I have a soda AND a chocolate icecream?"  He says this as he points to the Coke Zero.  This actually turns out to be a better option in my mind.  A diet soda and a chocolate icecream is slightly better for him than two chocolate icecreams.  I tell him that's what I was planning on having, and he could do that too.  Now he'salmost dancing he's so happy.  I have him help me unload the shopping cart and help me carry our treasure out.  

At home he happily drinks his soda and eats his icecream.  Afterwards, he has a bath with bubbles in it (shampoo makes the best bubble bath, thanks to my mom for teaching me that trick).  

For the next several days he was telling everyone in kindergarten about his special day with two chocolates (everything sweet is chocolate in his mind) and his very special birthday pants.   

I wish I could say the day ended on that happy note, but it ended with Aurora trying to tell me she was allowed to stay up until her mom got home.  I told her that wasn't possible since her mom wasn't getting home until 1am.  So then she just refused to go to bed.  It took a phone call to her mom to get her in bed.  

After that evening meal, I have an entirely new understanding of what my mom was dealing with as a single parent.