No one said it was going to be easy...

...but did they ever tell you it was going to be this funny?!

For a whirlwind of reasons, Bryan ended up physically at the DSAC board meeting and I joined in via conference call, which doesn't sound all that difficult until you factor these variables into the equation:

• it is football night
• all three boys were filthy from said practice
• 2 boys need to be clean enough for school at 6:45 AM
• all boys should be in bed by 7:30
• Gavin and Chase think dumping water is fun
• my phone was out of batteries

So, what should have been me speaking coherently on the phone to a group of people while the boys quietly played together ended up like this:

6 minutes home from practice, 2 boys in the tub, 1 boy in the shower, me plugged into the wall in my room, occasionally popping my head around the corner into the bathroom to make sure that all 3 boys were still alive, plugging one ear with my finger, face scrunched in concentration desperately trying to make sense of what the other parties are asking me.

About midway through, I notice that Chase and Gavin are BOTH cheerfully dumping 20 oz cups of water out of the tub.  Well, Gavin was dumping.  Chase was flinging.  There was an inch of water covering the entire floor of the bathroom.  And they were both laughing hysterically.

And I couldn't yell because I was talking, and I couldn't even redirect, because it was too loud in there to actually go into the bathroom, not to mention that I was still plugged into the wall, so I couldn't anyway without pausing my call.  So I did what any other clear thinking adult would do.  I started throwing towels into the bathroom from the clean laundry basket that was at the foot of my bed, hoping that I could launch them high enough into the air through the doorway so that when they came down on the floor, they would cover the maximum square footage of waterlogged linoleum as possible.

And after I threw about 10 towels in there, and the boys didn't seem like they were slowing down, I unplugged, cradled the phone between my ear and my shoulder, and ran in like I was entering a war zone in a rescue mission and plucked Guy out of the tub.  Of course, by now there were no dry towels to use, so I just left him standing there, naked and drip drying, as I went back for my second in-and-out mission.  I sprinted in for Chase, lifting him out of the water, dripping wet again in the bedroom, then booked it back to the wall to charge up.

Both boys, then, with the freedom to do as they pleased with me tethered to the wall and preoccupied, took their little naked soaking selves and grappled up onto my bed, where they commenced a wrestling/undercover diving session, which effectively left them dry and my sheets damp.  

It was during this time that Ian got out of the shower (I asked him later if he had washed anything, and he assured me he had, but after a quick check in the shower, the soap and shampoo appear to be untouched, although Bryan's cologne had been liberally used) and joined the littles on the bed.  There was much giggling and laughing, and one child (Guy) fell off the bed.  I am surprised that it was only one, and relieved that it did not result in crying.

There was a bout of crying from Chase, for an unknown reason.  I had to stop the conversation to take care of that one.  Awesome.

Small miracles:  no one peed on the bed (that I know of right now).  I got off the phone, diapered, dressed and put everyone to bed...and have a load of towels and bath mats in the wash now.

This was one of those moments when I wonder if God is tuning in for a laugh because He had a rough day.  Adam Sandler couldn't have written anything more comic genius than what went on in my master suite this evening.