Now What?

It's 11:40 a.m. and in the 4 hours we've been up we have:

• Cleaned the bathrooms
• Cleaned the kitchen sink
• Cleaned the freezer
• Thrown away leftovers that became science experiments in the fridge
• Washed the walls downstairs
• Dusted the living room
• Dusted the children's rooms
• Swept the porch
• Worked on a vertical picture schedule for WB
• Corrected schoolwork
• Made up assignments
• Played

Next is lunch... and then?

Life is so nice when everyone works together.

Please Take A Moment

Take the next moment or two to hug your children. Really be in that moment when you do. There is so much hurt in the world and, unfortunately, we just can't spare them. Our children belong to the Lord and we only have them a short time. And for some, the time together is trek through a Valley of Darkness so dark, it's unimaginable to the rest of us.

And when you're done, please pray for the broken and hurting children that may be living right next door to you. Pray for their parents. Pray for the Lord's mercy and goodness to shine as though those children's lives depended on it.

What did I do???

This is a special kind of Purgatory: Juggling the 3.5yo who stubbornly clings to PullUps and refuses to poop in the potty with the 19mo who refuses to let me put her in a diaper until she "peepee pahyees" even though she has no bladder control. He won't sit there long enough to go and she won't move until she does (which so far has been never).

Why? WHY???

[Not one minute after first posting this, Miss M came running to me screaming, "peepee pahyee!" Sure enough, she pee peed... on the floor. *sigh* Again, I ask you WHY!?]

Reasons A Babysitter Might Still Be In Order

Items 1-3 are simply backstory. I keep wondering if my 13yo is capable of handling an emergency, especially one involving younger siblings. Don't get me wrong, he's a fabulous kid - they all are. But they are a challenge some days. Today would be one such day.

Reasons we still might need a sitter when a Parental Unit is not available:

1. One of the middle children (and no, I'm not suggesting Wonder Boy) might decide to lose his mind and become... hostile... toward all known life in the household.

2. Said child might earn enough X's on his behavior chart to warrant hard labor.

3. Inmate will have a tantrum about shoveling rock. When the suggestion is made that, since it is too hard to shovel the rock, he just bend over and pick up the rocks and toss them into the wheelbarrow, the inmate could declare "this consequence is stupid."

Here's the part that makes me think the older kids aren't ready to be trusted alone together. Emergencies do happen, after all:

4. While the Person In Charge is explaining to the remaining cherubs that the Inmate is serving his time out outside, crying and something resembling a scream might be heard. Still not entirely calm from dealing with the events leading to items 1-3 on this list, the Person In Charge must try to keep cool.

5. Grievously Injured Inmate might present a bloody foot and expect something resembling First Aid be performed. This requires the Person In Charge to calm the Grievously Injured Inmate, encourage him strongly not to wake his sleeping sister, and keep the other middle child calm as well. The wailing and bleeding will make this hard to do.

6. This is when it gets dicey. If the 13yo is the Person In Charge, he will have to leave the Grievously Injured Inmate soaking his foot in a tub of cold water and crying in search of medical supplies to perform First Aid. Ideally, he would dash up the stairs and locate the hydrogen peroxide, 2 clean washcloths, a bandage and antibiotic ointment, retrieve them and dash back to the Inmate's side. These are things that any responsible parent knows should be easily accessible, right? If the Parental Unit is the Person In Charge, she might delegate the gopher duties to the 13yo and tell him exactly where the supplies are located - she would then remain with the middle children and apply firm pressure to the Grievously Injured Inmate's toe. It seems fairly straightforward.

If the 13yo is the Person In Charge, he really couldn't have the luxury of not being able to find the First Aid supplies. Right? RIGHT?

Today the Parental Unit had to dash up the stairs, leaving the 13yo with the Grievously Injured Inmate. Lo and behold, there were the ointment and bandages! (I will give him partial credit for locating the peroxide... but only because he yelled down that there wasn't any and I yelled back that it was the giant brown bottle staring him in the face.) The Recently Paroled Inmate is now sporting a lovely bandage on his pinky toe and is milking his injury for all it's worth.

In light of today's episode, I just don't think they're ready for self-containment. Not yet.

So Many Observations, So Little Time

I've learned quite a bit over these past few months. As you may guess by my lack of posting, my people have kept me busy. A little too busy. Sometimes I think the wrong kind of busy.

Take today for example: Our Fearless Leader and I were awakened by the pitter patter of little feet and the words, "poopy peepee pahyee ay-em." Please bear in mind that, despite our valiant efforts, Wonder Boy is not yet potty-trained. So, when the boy appeared in our room at the crack of dawn to tell us that he would like to poopy and peepee in the potty for m&m's, I had little choice but to drag my congested self out of bed and assist Wonder Boy in his effort. Nothing like m&m's for breakfast.

But then I found myself downstairs with three of the four children by 7:00 a.m. By 7:20 a.m., all four children had eaten breakfast or were in the process thereof. By 7:45 a.m. they were all dressed, Our Fearless Leader had left for work and I was already facing a mutiny. By 8:00 a.m. the thought that we had another hour to kill before we could load up for preschool dawned on me... that was when the chill of fear began to rise. Sure enough the two middle children had a shared time-out and a "save it for the gym" lecture for using each other as punching bags by 8:10 a.m. At 8:17 a.m. a second time-out was served by the 7yo for insubordination. I realized the recidivism rates are a bit high in this familial institution for my liking.

Somehow I managed to get both levels of the house vacuumed; the children got the dishes done, the bathroom sinks wiped out, and no one was tragically dismembered or the victim of an accidental, but permanent, death. Oh, wait. There was a ball pegging. That counts toward the recidivism rate, doesn't it?

The day looms large ahead. I am small. I am frightened. And I bring you back to the beginning of this post. I've learned a lot. I've learned that I am outnumbered, busy, and in desperate need of more sleep. I've also learned that I have to work on not unleashing my wrath simply because my people are acting like the unpolished people they are. I've learned that I am unpolished, too. If I ever learn what exactly to do about that, I'll let you know.

Paralyzed

I have come to the realization that I am essentially paralyzed when WB is awake. I cannot use the bathroom, change over laundry, fill a glass with water, let alone accomplish a task like "declutter the master closet." It is simply not possible. The entire 12 hours that WB is awake must be spent with eyes glued to him, no exceptions.

He had a wonderful day yesterday. I was lulled into a false security. I attempted to load the washing machine.

I found WB on the driveway waiting for me to discover him. Lucky for me, Miss M decided to stand at the doorway with a stricken look rather than follow WB. He will be the author of his own doom, of this I am certain.

You make me do EVERYTHING!

This is what my 7yo decided to whine about this evening. It was uttered with the utmost drama. Drama which was lost in the moment because I was changing out the garbage bag as he said it. The next moment was me throwing some trash in the recycle bin. The moment after that saw me moving into the living room to start putting the baby in pajamas.

Yes. That's right. You, the crabby 7yo standing idle in the kitchen, that's right. You are doing everything while I eat bon bons on the sofa.

Oy.