Efftometry

We discovered a new type of measurement tool today. I call it the Efftometer. It’s a sliding scale which measures the amount of chaos on scene at any given moment. Units of measures are Effs. The lower the Eff rating, the less the chaos. For example, currently all of my kids are either playing Minecraft together or watching Doc McStuffins. It’s a zero-sum Eff moment.

This morning, following the Great Nosemallow Extraction, things went to bits rather quickly. Maybe it was the booger-coated shamrocks. Maybe it’s a full moon tonight. I have no idea, but the end result was that everyone was pissy, nobody ate their lunch and I was going straight up stir crazy. I rounded everyone up and told them we were going for a walk. Eff rating: 3.

It’s a lovely summer day here in Oregon – 75° and sunny. Of course, that only accounts for ambient temperature and doesn’t factor in Bean in long pants, Roo in Johnny Cash black, or me pushing a double stroller with 75 pounds of squalling toddler. But I’m determined to enjoy the sunshine and tire these kids out so I suck it up and sweat my way through two miles of suburban sidewalk. Eff rating: 2

We decide to head towards to kids’s favorite spot, a greenspace relatively close by with a pond and ducks, when I realize that my wallet, which had been hanging off the stroller by the wrist strap, is gone. I turn around, send Bean ahead on her bike and start jogging with 75 pounds of toddler, envisioning my debit card buying a pallet of Bosnian electronics. And y’all, this body was not made for jogging. Eff rating: 4.

I’m probably 1/2 mile back the way we came when I realize only Noodle is still scootering alongside me. No Roo. I spin around and find Roo a good 20 yards back, just sitting in the middle of the road. I call: c’mon Roo! at which point he shouts back that he’s got poop in his shoe. Of course I think he means on his shoe. But no. According to my son, he “had food on his digestive system and had to let it out and a piece of poop fell into his shoe”.

What. The. Ever-Loving. Fresh. Hell.

So now I have no wallet, I’ve probably purchased a shipping container of stolen DVDs from Malaysia, I’m gonna spend the next two years debating identity theft charges and my son has actual crap inside his shoe. I make Roo walk – there’s no other option, really. I can’t push the babies and piggyback another 60 pounds, and the poop is already in the shoe. But of course he’s now decided that he can’t scooter, so I’ve got a double stroller in one hand and a scooter in the other and a sobbing seven year old frantically apologizing for pooping in his own shoes. I’m so glad we took a walk today. Eff rating: 9.

Bean comes riding triumphantly back , my wallet held aloft like a fencing rapier. I literally screamed and cheered. The old lady on the sidewalk just stared and I didn’t even care because I was no longer the proud owner of a Russian Panzer tank. She didn’t understand this at all when I said as much, but that’s ok. Roo is still poopy, but that’s ok too at this point. I’m so relieved that the Eff rating drops back to 3.

Now that I’ve got my wallet back, I tell everyone we’re walking to Plaid Pantry to get a treat. Which we do. The double stroller won’t fit in the store and we’re a solid Eff 5 with three kids let loose in the candy aisle, but whatever. We made it home. There’s air conditioning and cold water. I’m probably never leaving here again, no matter how crazy I feel.

The moral of this story is that zero Effs are better than all the Effs. I hope you find some peace today. Mine’s coming at 8pm sharp when all these kids go to bed.