I have been reprimanded in recent days for allowing my blog to idle. Believe it or not, I can become busy from time to time. I apologize. I didn't know there was any sort of vested interest in my ramblings but I'm delighted there is!
Yesterday started out as any normal sort. I was up before dawn packing Hubby's lunch. Looking forward to what lay ahead; lingering over coffee and conversation with Ryan until 6, Bible reading and prayer, then my morning chores until the kitchen is invaded by bleary-eyed, zombie-like children muttering something about Frosted Flakes. Had I known what kind of day it would turn out to be I would have let my husband starve, skipped my daily dose of bean juice, let the animals outside to hunt and gather for themselves the way God intended, and crawled back under the covers.
It was grocery day, like going to Disney but FUNNER! Ugh. I always like to clean up before we leave for a few reasons. First, so I don't walk right back in to a chaos to make more chaos with various foodstuffs awaiting their accommodations until they go to their final resting place. Second, because I would be so embarrassed if a thief broke in and found dirty dishes in the sink while he was rummaging for my non-existent cash stash. This is a true concern of mine. Don't judge me.
So as I'm running around making sure the burglars don't find any dirty laundry blocking their path to my jewelry box, I heard one of the girls wail "EWWWW, GROSS!" I arrived at the front window just in time to see one of the twins standing on the front lawn hiking his shorts back up. Appalled, I dragged him in the house and made him repeat; "The only time it's okay to pee outside is at camp in the bush." I made him say this mantra several times before I felt confident that he'd remember it for the next 20 minutes of unsupervised play while I swept the dining room floor.
Five minutes later, 2 of the girls came to me slightly panicked and embarrassed. "Mom, I think something's wrong with us." (A statement every mother loves to hear!) I took a peek at the matter causing the distress and did my best to hide my concern. I told the girls we'd keep an eye on it, walked back into the kitchen to clean the counter and found an empty jar of beets. "Never mind, you're not dying," I called over my shoulder speaking as much to myself as I was to them.
When I was satisfied that any robber would be impressed with my stellar housekeeping skills I piled the kids into the "bus" and head for town. I told the kids on the way there, "You can ask for anything you want!" I thought my tone of voice was obvious. I can tell you that the art of sarcasm is completely lost on my children. 'Nuff said. After the first stop 4 of the 5 already had to pee. So I drove to the nearest Tim Horton's and we waded through the droves of staring, whispering people. I shuffled everyone into the ladies' room and made them line up for the stalls in order of urgency. When each one was done we washed their hands but one of the twins has decided recently that public hand washing is his favorite activity! After 5 minutes of scrubbing I declared him finished and opened the bathroom door. I then looked like the worst mother in the world when he cried in front of the overly crowed store "YOU DIDN'T LET ME WASH MY HANDS!!" I hung my head as a nice man pitifully opened the door for me and gently whispered, "Let me get that for you, looks like you've got your hands full." I was grateful.
When we finally made it to the grocery store I put the boys in one cart and had the 9 year-old push a food cart. I asked her to stay behind me and watch what she was doing. After about 10 minutes I was ready to go to the emergency room to see if I had a fractured heel. I had the 7 year-old take over cart duty.
We headed for home after the customary "you're brave's" and "I don't know how you do it's". I always have the kids help take the groceries inside and they always love to help. After the first bag went into the house with one of the twins ALL of the children emerged from within talking at the same time. I couldn't understand much of what they were saying but I knew I heard an "I'm sorry, it was an ax-a-gant!" So, do you remember the previous mention of morning chores? Well, this particular morning happened to include washing the kitchen floor. Dumb, dumb, dumb. In the process of lifting one of the grocery bags onto the counter, my little buddy knocked over a rather large pot of gerbera daisies onto my ceramic tile. I sat down on the floor next to my new indoor garden feeling rather defeated. The buddy put his hand on my back, asked if it was ok, and told me how lucky I was that the pot didn't break. Yes, it was me with the luck.
Yesterday started out as any normal sort. I was up before dawn packing Hubby's lunch. Looking forward to what lay ahead; lingering over coffee and conversation with Ryan until 6, Bible reading and prayer, then my morning chores until the kitchen is invaded by bleary-eyed, zombie-like children muttering something about Frosted Flakes. Had I known what kind of day it would turn out to be I would have let my husband starve, skipped my daily dose of bean juice, let the animals outside to hunt and gather for themselves the way God intended, and crawled back under the covers.
It was grocery day, like going to Disney but FUNNER! Ugh. I always like to clean up before we leave for a few reasons. First, so I don't walk right back in to a chaos to make more chaos with various foodstuffs awaiting their accommodations until they go to their final resting place. Second, because I would be so embarrassed if a thief broke in and found dirty dishes in the sink while he was rummaging for my non-existent cash stash. This is a true concern of mine. Don't judge me.
So as I'm running around making sure the burglars don't find any dirty laundry blocking their path to my jewelry box, I heard one of the girls wail "EWWWW, GROSS!" I arrived at the front window just in time to see one of the twins standing on the front lawn hiking his shorts back up. Appalled, I dragged him in the house and made him repeat; "The only time it's okay to pee outside is at camp in the bush." I made him say this mantra several times before I felt confident that he'd remember it for the next 20 minutes of unsupervised play while I swept the dining room floor.
Five minutes later, 2 of the girls came to me slightly panicked and embarrassed. "Mom, I think something's wrong with us." (A statement every mother loves to hear!) I took a peek at the matter causing the distress and did my best to hide my concern. I told the girls we'd keep an eye on it, walked back into the kitchen to clean the counter and found an empty jar of beets. "Never mind, you're not dying," I called over my shoulder speaking as much to myself as I was to them.
When I was satisfied that any robber would be impressed with my stellar housekeeping skills I piled the kids into the "bus" and head for town. I told the kids on the way there, "You can ask for anything you want!" I thought my tone of voice was obvious. I can tell you that the art of sarcasm is completely lost on my children. 'Nuff said. After the first stop 4 of the 5 already had to pee. So I drove to the nearest Tim Horton's and we waded through the droves of staring, whispering people. I shuffled everyone into the ladies' room and made them line up for the stalls in order of urgency. When each one was done we washed their hands but one of the twins has decided recently that public hand washing is his favorite activity! After 5 minutes of scrubbing I declared him finished and opened the bathroom door. I then looked like the worst mother in the world when he cried in front of the overly crowed store "YOU DIDN'T LET ME WASH MY HANDS!!" I hung my head as a nice man pitifully opened the door for me and gently whispered, "Let me get that for you, looks like you've got your hands full." I was grateful.
When we finally made it to the grocery store I put the boys in one cart and had the 9 year-old push a food cart. I asked her to stay behind me and watch what she was doing. After about 10 minutes I was ready to go to the emergency room to see if I had a fractured heel. I had the 7 year-old take over cart duty.
We headed for home after the customary "you're brave's" and "I don't know how you do it's". I always have the kids help take the groceries inside and they always love to help. After the first bag went into the house with one of the twins ALL of the children emerged from within talking at the same time. I couldn't understand much of what they were saying but I knew I heard an "I'm sorry, it was an ax-a-gant!" So, do you remember the previous mention of morning chores? Well, this particular morning happened to include washing the kitchen floor. Dumb, dumb, dumb. In the process of lifting one of the grocery bags onto the counter, my little buddy knocked over a rather large pot of gerbera daisies onto my ceramic tile. I sat down on the floor next to my new indoor garden feeling rather defeated. The buddy put his hand on my back, asked if it was ok, and told me how lucky I was that the pot didn't break. Yes, it was me with the luck.
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