Some days are harder (aka: I'm not Supermom)

My kids are super well-behaved. I see other kids out there, and I really think mine are well above average behavior. Today they were not. And I'm writing about it not to complain, or to say how awful they are, but to admit that I'm not always perfect, and sometimes we all lose our cool.

My kids and I rode Frontrunner from Ogden to Salt Lake today to spend the afternoon school shopping with my mom. We made it on the train (thanks to the help of a stranger), and actually had a really good time during the 50-minute ride. I talked with them almost the whole time. We laughed a lot and talked about how to make friends at school, and they practiced on each other. As we approached our stop I started thinking I was doing a pretty good job at this mothering stuff. (Famous last words...)

We found my mom in the parking lot pretty easy and went to lunch at the Rio Grande. Our waiter actually encouraged my mom and me to share a meal, and showed us a cheaper kids meal than what we originally ordered. What waiter does that?!? We'll definitely be going back. And he definitely got a big tip.

We did some great shopping. We were super nice to the kids. We even bought them Happy Meals (which they didn't eat at all).

We got on the train to go home, and things really started to unravel about half way home. Claire had been assigned to sit by me on the first half, so twenty minutes in I told her it was almost time to let Kyle sit by me. She freaked out and went to another row of benches on the train and sat down with a giant "HUMPH" followed by tinier humphs every twenty seconds (we have her BFF Maya to thank for teaching her to humph). Then she got up, walked over, kicked Kyle, then went back. I explained to her that she'd lost a couple privileges with that choice. She returned minutes later to sit across the aisle from us, but only to reach over and pinch Kyle. More privileges lost.

At this point she pulls the ever powerful "I need to use the bathroom." I was informed that she could not wait. We had about 20 minutes left to ride the train and 5 minutes more to get home, and she insisted. The only available restroom was two cars down. We had booster seats with us (needed them in Salt Lake), so we left those and made the trek on the moving train. I insisted that Kyle hold my hand because he's three, and we were going up and down a number of stairs while moving. He freaked out and did that "I'm just going to hang dead from one arm" thing, so I carried him screaming the whole way. Awesome. Then we got to the bathroom. Claire did her thing and exited. Then Kyle, not to be outdone by his sisters, proclaims his urgent need (although I'd just been to a disgusting park bathroom with him an hour earlier).

This is when it got tricky. The train bathroom is tiny, but I wasn't about to let him go in by himself and attempt to pee standing up on a moving train. I thought he would possibly get hurt from being jostled around, and the attendant and all following passengers would be none-too-pleased with the mess he could create. I couldn't just leave Claire by herself, so we all smashed into the restroom. He starts screaming "No! I don't want you to see my pee-pee! No!" over and over. It was awesome, and I'm sure everyone else within earshot loved that. We agreed that Claire would turn around (BTW, this has never been a problem before, he seems quite proud of his anatomy.) He did his completely unnecessary business, and we set about to wash his hands. He couldn't reach the soap and water, so I went to lift him up, but then he freaked out again (maybe he's just claustrophobic?). He didn't want me to pick him up; he didn't want me to help; he didn't want me to be in there; he didn't want claire to touch the door.

Under the pressure of a tiny, hot, moving compartment with other certainly waiting for the facilities,  I decided it wasn't necessary to wash his hands. So I told him he could choose to have help or not wash. He said he wanted to do it himself. I explained that that wasn't an option. He didn't care. So I picked him up and carried him all the way back to our seats. The whole way he was screaming "I just want to wash my hands! I just have such dirty hands!" Snot was flying. People were staring. He grabbed at every doorway and every seat and every railing and pole along the way for two whole train cars. It was awesome. [He's not OCD about hand washing. Ever. This is a boy who will pick up gum off the road and eat it, so it's not like he cared about the germs at all.]

We sat down, and he screamed for the remaining 10-15 minutes of the ride. I could do nothing to calm him. I felt about as adequate as a ten-year-old babysitter. He cried the entire walk back to the car (which was like two Walmart parking lots away). He cried the whole way home. He cried all the way up to his bathroom until he washed his "dirty, dirty hands." Well, I assume that's when it stopped. I left for a lovely trip to the grocery store while Taylor put them to bed. Then I stopped and chatted with a friend for a while. When I got home they were asleep.

My apologies go out to all who were riding the train and hoping for a peaceful night. [I really think they should have a designated Quiet Cart.] Especially to the man who was right behind us and pretended to be asleep through it all. All night I've been wondering how I could have handled that better. What was I supposed to say? Maybe: "If you guys don't stop, we're going to get off this train!" But then what? All I know is that I'm pretty sure school staring will be a good thing for my kids. They've been together 24/7 since March, and it's time for some alone time. Hopefully that will make some changes at our house.