Kids are just to dye for and make me want to drink whine

Life provides a huge bag of stressful events. Stress is all relative, and I'm happy to share that although we have plenty of our own stresses, they are manageable and open our eyes up to appreciate the good times. This weekend was no exception.
My life is full of whiners, tantrums, and emotional negotiations. The W's, T's, and EN's are not limited to the two small children either. I won't go into the details but lets just say that the stress of finishing a difficult home improvement project lead Kenny to be a bit stressed. Don't worry, I knew that it was an emotional negotiation and almost had to laugh, so I let it slide.
Kenny finished the fence and overcame the challenge of building something that he previously did not know how to build. He whined a little, threw a tantrum, and performed an emotional negotiation with me and with himself.
While he finished the fence I put Maya down for a nap and Tatum played around in the warm, sunny backyard. I wanted to go to Flower World and Home Depot, but was at the mercy of naptime and the constant questioning and demands of a four year old. "Mommy I want to ride my bike, will you help me?" "Mommy I have to go potty can you take my helmet off?" "Mommy I'm hungry for a snack"... all while discovering that there were termites in a piece of rotted out wood in our back garden. Cue Mommy WTEN.
So, off we go to Home Depot at 2:45pm with the two girls and aspirations of a trip to Flower World (birds tweeting, happy family playfully chasing chickens, loving parents explaining the difference between a peacock and a peahen to our interested little angel). The moment we walked into Home Depot Tatum began to whine about how she wanted to go to a kid's store where you can play. She didn't want to buy paint. Suddenly the nose was a faucet and the whining volume grew to a threatening pitch. As I tried to negotiate a trade in the garden department for a four year old ("how many perennials for a slightly dirty preschooler?"), the cries of "I don't want to be here" were muffled by the back of her hand wiping slime from her nose. As we shopped for caulk and stain, Maya looked curiously on as Tatum drew the attention of a pregnant couple who I could tell were silently prophesizing that their unborn baby would never be that kid.
By the time we got to the flowers, Tatum had calmed down and we attempted an emotional negotiation of sorts as she wanted "4 red flowers". I consented because I too wanted some red flowers. We thought everything was going to be okay as we walked back toward the checkout area and Tatum spotted the checkout aisle display of candy bars.
"Mommy can we buy a candy bar"
"No"
"But mommy we need candy its yummy" (Lip begins to quiver)
"If you're a good girl, the easter bunny will bring you treats tonight"
(panicked voice): "But when we run out of candy next week, can we come back and buy some"
"No honey, candy isn't healthy, we are not coming back to buy candy next week"
Now, remember in cartoons, I believe especially Charlie Brown, where a character would begin to cry and the tears would shoot out from the corners of the eyes like sprinklers? Yea that happened, coupled with cries of "but I want the candy bar next week! But I want the candy bar next week! Mommy when we run out of candy next week can we buy candy bars here?!" "No Tatum you can't"
This escalated and she was worked up past "Emotional Negotiation" and skidded into "Why don't they make straight jackets for kids". Kenny saw me reaching a boiling point and told me to take Maya to the car. I believe his words were "I got this".
I took Maya to the car and after a few moments I heard "BUT I WANT THE CANDY BAR NEXT WEEK" rolling toward our car. Here comes Kenny making his way through the parking lot with a blubbering mess. He told me that everyone around him was looking at him suspiciously as he wrangled a child, struggling to get away from him and screaming "I want my mommy". It was like one of those moral dilemma hidden camera shows about bystander intervention. They figured she looks like him and he wasn't running so it must be okay. I'm just glad we hadn't gone in his work van, because putting her in a white minivan labeled "Team Clark" might have heightened their suspicions.
We got home and Tatum went down for a nap. Breathing a sigh of relief I took Maya out to the backyard where we snuggled on a blanket and played with toys. Kenny delivered a sandwich and glass of wine where we had a little moment of zen with our happy go lucky 11 month old. Maya gleefully gnawed on a pickle. I then realized I didn't know what else to do with her when she tried to crawl and eat grass, so I took her for a walk in the beautiful spring day.
Tatum woke up from her nap in a markedly better mood and she went to the fence where Kenny was painting and asked a barrage of questions around fences and paint and possibly the lifecycle of worms. She was back in his heart and things were looking up.
That evening I insisted in continuing with the plan of coloring Easter Eggs, and I filled the cups with dye and brought out 17 hardboiled eggs. We had a nice time coloring eggs and talking strategy around making multi-colored eggs. I looked at the clock and exclaimed "Oh my gosh Tatum, its past your bedtime! If the bunny sees you up he may skip our house!". "Oh my gosh mom okay what do we do?" "Well, I'm going to go get the Easter basket to put out, and a pen to write the bunny a note apologizing for your tantrum at the store".
When I went to get the basket (in sleeping Maya's room) I heard clinking downstairs that made me nervous. Sure enough when I came downstairs there were only two of the six dye cups remaining on the table, and four trails of colored vinegar leading into the kitchen. I rounded the corner to see Tatum furiously wiping up spilled dye, and she looked at me with the knowledge that she was in trouble. It was so darling I just said "honey thanks for wiping it up! Let me help you because the bunny is watching!" (Emotional Negotiation). We wiped it up and Tatum had dye all over her toes and fingers.
"Tatum, you have dye on your fingers and toes, we better get in the bath!"
She looked at her fingers and her toes and peered at me with the biggest doe eyes. "Mommy if my fingers and toes are died... will they grow back?"
Oh my heart melted at that point and I attempted to explain the difference between dye and die. She was in too big of a hurry to bathe so I whisked her upstairs and washed off the color. While she soaked we composed a letter to E. Bunny.
"Okay Tatum, what do you want to say to the bunny?"
"Um, okay T...A..." (oh cute she's spelling her name!). "C...H...K..." (huh?) "um...3...L...Y"
"Okay Tatum how about words. What words do you want to say?"
"Please.... um... Thank you" (Okay now we're on the right track) "....and something in spanish. Quatro!"
In the end her letter read: "Please Thank you quattro. A Toy, sorry for having a tantrum at the store, please hide my eggs. TachK3Ly."
After that was done she rushed to get ready and hurriedly kissed daddy goodnight with a sense of urgency I've never seen at bedtime. She insisted I tell a Princess story with the light out so the Bunny wouldn't see that she was still awake. I got one sentence in before she took over with "and then the princess colored eggs and her fingers died and she woke up and hunted for them the end okay goodnight mommy! Go to bed quietly, tiptoe and whisper so the bunny doesn't know you're awake!"
Once downstairs, Kenny and I toasted our parenting prowess and home improvement dedication with a shot of tequila. We celebrated the day with a late dinner, some white wine, and a couple episodes of Entourage.
The next morning I was not so happy with the successful early bedtime when 6:15 rolled around and the pitter patter of little feed was followed by a messy haired vision, seen between one open eye whispering "mommy, lets go see if my note worked and the easter bunny came". And so another adventure began.