My Little Writer(s)

I walk through the door and my mother in law is in my bed, watching the kids from there, you would think they sacrificed her to the gods, she was sweating and huffing, maybe it was menopause. I brought her a drink of water and closed the door, praying she wouldn't stay too long, me going to bed dreaming of my husband is one thing, seeing her head on my pillow, wondering if I would be dreaming of her tonight with the smell of fish and tofu lingering my pillow, was enough to get me to wash the sheets again and take caffeine to wait for my decrepit washer and dryer to be finished.
I walk into the living room and mike d is running around with an over sized pencil, one that Diego brought home from the museum long ago. A five dollar souvenir. He pokes at things and I warn him, he keeps it close to himself and saunters around in circles. I am making meatloaf and let him roam.
The screams came like a slap, I dropped the 3 lbs of ground beef into the bowl and ran with a dish towel. There laying on the floor in front of the tv was mike d howling, I carried him and looked him up and down, his head slammed back into the air. I held on hard. Like a bat out of hell my mother in law flies in and takes him from me.
"My baby, what happened."
"Nothing, it's a tantrum." I answer.
She holds him and cradles him and I go back to the meatloaf, she comes back to the kitchen and gets a knife, my eyebrows go up and I watch as she goes with knife and pencil in hand, she starts sharpening the over sized writing utensil. After a couple of seconds she returns to the living room, mike d still sobbing, the sobbing suddenly ends.
"Ya, I fixed it." I hear her cry out, the crying from my little one has ceased and once again there is a sense of peace in the house. I put the meatloaf into the oven and walk to the living room.
Picasso has decided that the wooden floor is his canvas, there is scribble and squiggly lines adorning the floor. I scream out in shock, "NO!"
Grab a bottle of Windex and paper towels, in one corner I am erasing the markings with ease and in the other corner my mother in law is drawing with mike d on the wooden floor.
"What are you doing?"
"He was mad that the pencil didn't write, so I sharpened it. No problem, looks it comes out easy."
The woman has gone mad, I am now confused as to what the consequences would be if I spanked my mother in law and put her in the corner. I continue to wipe the pencil marks and out of now where, as if the presence of a pissed off private school nun possessed fate, mike d trips and scratched himself with the pencil. He cries again, the tears continue to pick up where they left off. She pulls the pencil out of the grip and throws it in the outside trash bin, knowing that no one would jump into that stinky plastic container to recover it.
She comes back in and decides that it's best to drive him around and get him to sleep, the crying is now complete exhaustion. I have to wait for the meatloaf, my mother in law runs out back to get dressed for a drive.
Mike D climbs on the kitchen table and plays legos with my candle holders, I step forward with anticipation, knowing that if I make a sudden move the glass candle holders, all five standing on each other resembling the tower of piza, will come crashing down. I see Tito is also coming towards him slowly, we plan an attack, like a dyslexic mime I make signs for Tito to grab the candles, I will grab the kid. In a split second we both recover our target, the candles saved.
My mother in law comes in dressed up, I tell Tito to get the meatloaf out when the timer rings and run around the house looking for my flip flops, I can't find them, but the heels I wore to work are in the corner, I opt for the britney look, barefoot I carry mike d to the car with the bottle in one hand, my mother in law jumps in and we begin to drive around.
I hear the familiar sound of shaking liquid, stop the car and my little food artist is covered in head to toe with milk, milk that will curl and smell like vomit in a couple of days if I don't wash the car seat. I curse, knowing that neither my mother in law or my child know what I am saying. I pull the bottle away and grab a blanket that I keep in the car for trips to Orlando, wipe down the child, wipe down the chair, scold him as he tries to climb out and return to the front street, 20 minutes later he is asleep and we go back home.
When I get him out of the car, I lay him in my mother in laws bed, knowing that he is out till morning, I walk out and now I am covered in mushed cereal from the milk, in the dark with his white wife beater I didn't realize that I didn't get all the milk off of him. I jump in the shower with all that is soiled, my shirt and underthings, and rinse it off in the bath. And soaking wet I realize all the shampoo and bath bottles are lined up in the living room thanks to my little rain man, even as he sleeps he is a pain in the ass.
I hop out of the shower and tip toe towards the bottles, grabbing only what I need, I drop the towel on the floor and do the shuffle all the way to the bathroom, if I leave the floor wet it will lift and ruin the already ruined floors even more. I jump back in the shower and decide that I am way too tired to scrub hard and shave and wash my hair, I decide that a T & A shower is the way to go, (tits and ass) I wash what I must and put on my husbands pajamas hanging from the door, pop a xanax, grab a blanket, turn on snapped and I don't think I even made it to the entire opening, I passed out, done for the day.