Someone I know, ahem, who just happens to be seven months pregnant, told me this story the other day.
She’d made supper, mixing cheese in with meat, and announced to her family that supper was moments away. Just waiting for the cheese to melt.
And waiting.
And waiting.
Finally, the husband of my dear sister friend checked the cheese package. It read something quite similar to this:
‘Hash browns.’
Chalk it up to pregnant brain. To three - and almost four - kids three and under. Or something.
As of 9:49 pm, my eleventh load of laundry was in the washing machine, only four bath towels remained on the laundry room floor, school work for the day is done, the house is picked up, all six children had received three meals today and are now in bed, Blaine is still gone at his meeting, and a good book beckons me from my due-to-be laundered couch.
Whew. I would rather not replay this day again any time soon.
I paid out $.25 in extra jobs for the day, (kids work cheap!) the fridge is washed out, the table legs are clean (er) and Brady had a hair cut and is looking cleaner and fluffier than the bath towels that I did get washed.
As for the age-old discussion on why we’ve purchased beds for our children, it still remains a topic.
The reasons we wonder why are so clearly displayed by Ruby tonight.
Goodnight.
You know those days when nothing is funny, no matter how you look at it?
I’m having one of those.
I have about 10 loads of laundry to do. (No exaggeration, I switched sizes on three kids and have all their “new” laundry from storage to wash, plus the weekend’s, plus a set of wet sheets, plus a wet nap mat… get my drift? At least 10.) Something better break the ice quick. If one more crayon box, marble jar, or coin cup (filled with 500 coins) hits the floor today, I may very well scream.
You know, because I haven’t already.
If you aren’t feeling badly for me, consider this: Blaine has a meeting tonight and won’t be home for supper.
Ok, screaming commences.
Charlotte woke me up in the night, blanket in one hand, cup in the other. Slightly sobbing, she handed me the empty cup and asked me to fill it. She dropped her blanket, and when I picked it up, I noticed it wasn’t her blanket at all, but a silky nightgown.
She took it, held it up with a look of confusion, and stared not her striped blanket but Dora in the face. Enough to have nightmares, for sure. '”Hello, sleepy girl, losing her cool due to lack of proper hydration. I’m Dora. Lovely olive complexion, perfect hair (Despite having been crumpled for the past six hours, thank you for that.) and the ability to have my backpack, my map, and my monkey all talk and obey me. Oh, and I consistently beat the fox with sticky fingers, every time.”
I’m raising daughters of self confidence, apparently. She doesn’t struggle with the comparisons we women so often put ourselves though, looking everywhere to see how we’re failing compared to the next woman/mom/wife. She looked confused for but a moment, took her refilled water, and went back to bed, snuggling her sister’s nightgown.
I, on the other hand, had a series of funny-to-me thoughts as I lay there, unable to go back to sleep. You get to witness secondhand what sleep-deprived does to me.
Oh, and I got up and cancelled an Amazon order at 4am when I realized I’d forgotten to add something to it. Yep, on my toes last night, for sure.
Liberty’s penmanship asked her to answer the question, “How do you think the barn swallow got it’s name?”
She looked at me with utter confusion.
“Because they swallowed a barn?!”
Sterling needs to do math. He tells me, though, that he’s making me a spanking spoon. He’s made a pattern out of paper and is headed for his hand saw to make a wooden one now.
That thing is at least 12 inches long.
Who am I to mess with that?!
Wonder who he plans it for?
Ruby’s trying to catch the dust she can see floating in the sunlight. We’re going to be a while. She turns four on Labor Day and can. not. wait. She’s going to drive me crazy with the asking.
Eden talked of her ree-lay’-tives today. Phonetic, anyone? Then she threw arcatick in there and I began to wonder at my phonics teaching abilities completely. It reminds me of my inability, to this day, to pronounce ‘façade’ correctly.
Pierce learned to crawl on all fours instead of scooting on his belly. My stain removal attempts thank him.
Charlotte’s decided the best place to sleep is on the nap mat I made for her to take to co-op. And we buy them beds why?
Liberty got her own email address. She’s having the time of her life. And we discovered something: she can email Blaine and I. I have a glimpse into her soul, via email.
Sterling is getting better and better at reading. He’s on an endurance run to finish the set of forty books I have to teach him to read. He’s finished 13. He expects to be Einstein by #36.
I caught up on laundry yesterday. There’s less than a full load to do today. I can’t remember when that happened last. Years, maybe.
Blaine and I celebrate our 10th anniversary next month. We hope to go away for a night. Unless Pierce sleeps through the night consistently before then, though… anyone have ideas that do not require the baby crying for hours with five other children in the room?
