Monday morning time

Waking up to Kate's face two inches from mine.

Breakfast: Green milk.

Zach hiding the cereal because it's his favorite.

Green lemon poppy seed muffins.

Reading and writing with Gavin...

in my bed.

Kate in underwear.

Her idea.

There goes today's out-and-about agenda.

Potty celebrations.

Happy numbers on the scale.  14!

At least today.

Laundry day.
Sheets too.

Lexi to school.

Green icing on her face.

Hair uncombed.

When did I become that mom?

Potty celebrations.

Sewing projects:

hem pants

fix a tear or two or five

scout badges

Disaster with a hem.

aka did it backwards.

Haha

except not.

Unwarranted and unexpected emotion

unrelated to the sewing

but following shortly after.

Seriously, girl.

Get a grip.

Cookie dough

and Little Einsteins.

5-4-3-2-1!

Pick up Lexi.

Library.

I am Malala in.

Jane Eyre and 

To Kill a Mockingbird

out.

Lunch.

Nuggets for the girls.

I hate this meal.

Anticipating:

Dolls.

Crayons.

Lucy.

Nap time.

Reading time.

Quiet time.

Steeling myself for 3:00.

What did I do all day?

I asked myself this question at 5:51 p.m. on Thursday.  I really had to think about it.  I mean, clearly I didn't spend time cleaning the kitchen, which is where I was sitting when the thought occurred to me.  I never spend enough time doing that.  So...hm...here's what I did on Thursday.

6:00 a.m. Find myself squished between two little girls vying for space on MY pillow.  Notice that my husband is home (after being in Minneapolis for three days). Ahhh...

6:45 a.m. Reluctantly roll out of bed.

6:59 a.m. Melt coconut oil and swish for my almost-daily oil pull. *blech*

7:00 a.m. Supervise breakfast and the making of lunches.  

7:19 a.m. Spit out the oil in a cup while driving Zach to school.

7:20 a.m. Drive up to the drop-off corner at Zach's school.  Endure his furious tirade about not being dropped at the band room, and his pronouncement that in retaliation, he will not go to after-school basketball practice.  Tell him that he can walk home from school and then turn in his phone.

7:25 a.m. Receive this text: "So can you bring me my basketball stuff?" to which I respond: "What are you going to do for me if I do that for you?  It's not convenient for me to come back to the school today."  No response.

7:57 a.m. Bid farewell to Garry, Gavin, and Tyler.  Gavin is mad about his clothes and Tyler is mad about being late (15 minutes early).

8:15 a.m.  Make a breakfast smoothie.  Post the recipe on Facebook.  Breathe for a few minutes.

8:30 a.m. Pick up a friend's double stroller so the girls and I can take a walk in the lovely weather (40-ish, crisp, and sunny).

8:49 a.m. Finally start said walk.

9:15-ish a.m.  Arrive at Zach's school (the 3.5-mile walk's mid-point) and drop off his basketball stuff.  

10:00 a.m.  Return from walk.  Turn on the TV for the girls.  Get in the shower.

10:25 a.m.  Finish getting ready and start getting the girls ready to leave the house (looking respectable this time).

10:40 a.m. Arrive at Tyler's school.  Wait five minutes while the office ladies try to find his class, which seems to have disappeared into thin air.  Sign him out as girls run amok.

10:56 a.m. Arrive at the Children's Specialty Clinic for Tyler's orthopedic follow up (aka cast x-ray).

11:15 a.m.  Good news!  Bones are healing nicely.  No surgery.

11:45 a.m. Arrive home after returning Tyler to school.  Lunch.  Email.  Little Einsteins.

12:45 a.m.  Naptime!  Lexi, too.  Girls object; Mom is unswayed.

1:00 p.m.  Primary newsletter.  Email.  Facebook.  A few quick texts.  Phone calls: Piano humidifier solution is now sold at Walmart; Dr. Y can add hormone panel to lab order; Garry knows that Tyler's arm is healing; friend I was concerned about needed to be concerned about.  Or something like that.

2:50 p.m. Time to get the boys from school.  Load up borrowed stroller, then pull two sleepy girls from their beds. They object with many tears. Tell me about it.

3:07 p.m.  Arrive at the elementary school.  Load girls in stroller (pretty handy...why did we sell ours?) and walk quickly to kindergarten pick-up.

3:15 p.m. Pick up Gavin.  Tyler goes to News Crew.

3:16 p.m.  Zip back to the van with the Littles.

3:20 p.m.  Load up.  Head to Lab Corp.

3:25 p.m.  Sheepishly walk into Lab Corp, which closes at 3:30.  They'll take us.  Phew.

3:35 p.m.  My turn.  Gavin is transfixed with the blood draw.

3:45 p.m.  Back to the van.  Back to the school.

3:55 p.m.  Littles romp on the playground while we wait for News Crew to end.  Fake a conversation with the non-friendly lady on the bench. Shiver. It's cold.

4:15 p.m.  News Crew ends.

4:25 p.m.  Wait at the middle school curb for basketball to end.  Eat Girl Scout cookies, even though they are not dairy-free.

4:35 p.m.  Zach appears.  He's grumpy about the back seat, among other things, and argues with anything that moves as we drive home.

4:38 p.m.  See some friends from church at a stoplight.  Roll down the window and chat for a few minutes while we wait for it to change, then wave as we part.

4:42 p.m.  Pick up the mail.  Let kids run home from the mailbox...their favorite thing.

4:50 p.m  Explain Zach's chore list, which he traded for basketball clothing delivery.  Take Tyler to art lessons.

5:10 p.m.  Home again.  Check chore status.  Ignore dinner preparation and life in general.  Return emails. Manage chaos.  Feel stomach growl but do nothing about it.  Ask the question that titles this post and start typing.

6:09 p.m.  Check the clock and realize Tyler's art class ended nine minutes ago.  Jump in the car.  Call Garry to ask if he'd rather have omelets or hamburgers for dinner.

6:15 p.m.  Arrive at art class and say, "Is it 6:00 yet?"  Laugh with the teacher.  Listen to Tyler talk about his class projects on the way home.

6:25 p.m.  Arrive home at the same time as Garry and regret the absence of dinner preparation.

6:30 p.m.  Be relieved when Garry makes hamburgers.  Start cleaning up the kitchen and getting small people ready for bed.

7:00 p.m.  Dinner.  Star the usual "What was the best part of your day?" routine.  Listen to Zach complain about the quantity of food he is required to eat.  Listen to Gavin complain about how messy a hamburger is when laden with 1/4 c of ketchup.  Try to keep Kate from running around the kitchen.

7:15 p.m.  Put Kate in bed while Garry puts little kids in bed.

7:20 p.m. Make Zach do the dishes (one of his chores-for-basketball-clothes consequences).  Help with clearing counters and sweeping the floor.

7:45 p.m. Sit down at the piano to practice a medley for a baptism on Saturday.

8:35 p.m.  Get ready for volleyball.

8:45 p.m.  Meet friends at the church for a twice-monthly volleyball game night.  Chat until the people using the gym are all done.

9:15 p.m.  Start playing.  Try not to be embarrassed by lack of skill.  Laugh a lot.

11:00 p.m.  One more game.

11:30 p.m.  Talk to Garry for a few minutes.  Get into bed.

1:15 a.m.  Finally fall asleep.

Mom's Taxi

I think I need a hack license.  After all, I spend my days shuttling passengers here, there, and everywhere. They are almost always cranky and yelling at me, they don't always smell good, they rarely wear seat belts without be compelled to do so, and they never give tips.  Sounds like a taxi driver, right?

Taxi driving is my new profession.  I think I've put more miles on my van in the last two weeks than I did all summer. Take Tuesday afternoon, for example.  Kate had her two-year check-up at noon. Doctor's visits are always adventurous, and this time our visit involved three trips to the restroom (managing two small bladders at once is a little ridiculous), several exam room escapes, endless spinning on the spinny doctor stool, a few laughs from our awesome pediatrician (she really gets a kick out of my why-we-don't-do-vitamins stories), and shots for Kate.

Then we ran home for nap time.  Nap time was way too short because I stupidly scheduled a braces adjustment for Zachary at 2:30.  Well, regardless of nap time, 2:30 is the dumbest time ever for an appointment.  I pulled Zach out 15 minutes before school got out so he could get out of his least favorite class (band) and still get back for cross country practice. What I didn't think about was crazy traffic around the school at that time, and I also didn't count on losing track of time at home and being late picking him.  But I digress.  So at 2:30 I picked up Zach and went to the orthodontist.

I should mention here that Kate slept for approximately one hour and did NOT appreciate being yanked from her comfy bed and dark room.  It wasn't my favorite thing, either.

Kate and Lexi seem to save their craziest, whiniest, screamiest selves for orthodontist visits.  When we are cruising around Walmart I don't care so much because the ginormous store absorbs a lot of the sound. Not so with the ortho.  Man, it's quiet in there.  On Tuesday I left feeling a little humiliated.  My wild crowd is getting a reputation, even though we have only been there a few times.

So then I took Zach back to cross country practice.  He bailed before we got to the school because it was faster for him to run than to wait for the van to get him where he needed to go.

I drove straight to the elementary school, where I picked up two hot and sweaty boys who fought all the way home.  We arrived at 3:30.  I started on dinner: chicken meatball stir fry and rice.  At 4:15 I was back in the van, three kids in tow, to pick up Zach from practice. We got home at 4:30.  I finished dinner so Tyler could eat, and at 4:50 I took him to art class, which was a make-up class because I forgot to take him last Thursday.

The rest of us ate dinner just after 5:00.  At 5:50 I left to pick up Tyler.  Garry was home by then so I didn't have to take anyone with me.  I took Tyler from art to scouts.  He was only a few minutes late.  At 6:50 I left for a Young Women activity at the park, and Garry took the other kids to pick up Tyler and drop Zach off for his scout meeting.  At 8:15 Garry picked up Zach, and I ventured home from the park.

And then the van, the car, and their drivers rested.

If you ever want to ride in Mom's Taxi after 3:00 p.m., you're out of luck.  It's always full, and always zooming to the next destination, whether or not the driver gets tips for excellent service.

Mom's first day of school

While the boys were meeting their teachers and getting acquainted with schools and rules, the girls had a very different sort of day.

First we went to the YMCA, where I did my geriatric routine, AKA rode the stationary bike for an hour.  I listened to all the conference talks and watched all the videos for my next Young Women lesson, and then the hour was finally over and my hip rejoiced.

Then the girls watched Bambi while I showered and got ready and cleaned up breakfast and checked my email.

Then Kate burned her finger on the stove while the mac-n-cheese was boiling because I sat down to work on my blog. Fail.

Then the girls cried through lunch.  Kate's cry: "MY FINGER HURTS!"  Lexi's cry: "I HATE THIS LUNCH AND IT REPRESENTS ALL THE INJUSTICE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD SO I AM GOING TO SCREAM!"

Then Kate took a nap and Lexi colored.

Then I made chocolate chip cookies because it was the first day of school, and that is our tradition.  Because I was multitasking cookie making with kitchen cleaning and dishwasher unloading, I forgot I was halving the recipe, so I added three eggs instead of 1.5.  Despite my attempts to fix the problem, the cookies turned out more like cake.  Blech.

Kate woke up crying about her finger after 45 minutes of sleep.  We sat on the couch together for the next 45 minutes.

Then it was time to get Zach.  I went really early to beat the traffic.  Sadly, my strategy failed and I got stuck in a ridiculous place and it took 15 minutes to reach my son, who didn't know where to look for me.  Score one for the parents who failed to arrange a meeting place.  When I finally reached Zach, the elementary release bell was just 10 minutes away, and we were about three miles from the school.

We parked a block away from the school, since every mother and her dog intended to pick up her kids in person on the first day of school and the streets were packed.  Then Zach, Lexi, Kate, and I booked it across the campus and landed in front of the kindergarten door just as it opened.  Phew. Gavin was thrilled; he'd had a great day. Tyler arrived a couple of minutes later.  I turned to introduce him to Miss Stevens, since Tyler will be picking up Gavin most days.  When I turned back to the kids, Zach, Gavin, and Lexi had vanished into the crowd.

Tyler and I, with Kate on my hip (my stroller was in Garry's trunk), looked and looked for them. People were everywhere. Eventually we decided to head back to the van in hopes that Zach had directed the kids there. No such luck. I was getting sick. Where were they?

I drove the van to a spot across the street from the school.  I jumped out of the driver's seat when I saw Zach and Lexi running down the path from the playground.  No Gavin.  I darted across the street and was nearly hit by a car (my bad) and the crossing guard yelled at me.  I yelled back that my child was missing, and she backed off.  Zach didn't know where Gavin was; he'd been without him for several minutes. A lady who overheard our frantic conversation said there was a boy across the street who was crying.  So we ran over there, and it was Gavin.

He was sitting with a lady whose kid was in Gavin's class, and a lady I didn't know was there, too.  He was crying his angry cry, with a pouty face and arms crossed firmly across his chest.  The lady I didn't know had a lecture in her pocket that popped out as I crossed the street. How could I neglect my child on the first day of school? What business did he have being alone on the street?  Did I know he could have been hit by a car? Thanks for the mother-of-the-year speech.  I already have it memorized.

I was just glad to see Gavin's face. The lady I did know said, "Just so you know, Gavin said he doesn't like it when everyone hurts him.  He ran away so his brother wouldn't punch him again." Nice. Strangers don't know the way Gavin exaggerates, and that he is not an abused child.

Apparently Gavin ran away the minute I turned my back on the kindergarten playground.  Zach attempted to redirect/restrain him, but Gavin broke free and took off. Zach chased him but eventually lost him in the crowd.  He was just as panicked as I was when we met in the parking lot.

Gavin continued his angry tirade on the drive home and for about 10 minutes after we got home.  Eventually he calmed down, told his side of the story, and agreed to have some cookies and milk.  And then he played happily outside all afternoon.

I signed papers and listened to first-day recaps from the older boys.  It seems that all three had a great day at school. It also seems that I need a better pick-up-from-school strategy.  Here's hoping Day Two is a little more mellow, both during and after the school day.

How to have a fantastic day

1.  Wake up forty minutes before you and your three small children need to leave for the preschool field trip.

2.  Enter the address of the Bear Creek Nature Center into your phone at a stop light.

3.  Miss the exit.

4.  Take the scenic route, which is actually really ugly, and stress about being late: your number one pet peeve.

5.  Arrive just five minutes late.  To an empty parking lot.

6.  Find out from hikers that the Nature Center is closed on Tuesdays.

7.  Cry on the curb with your crying preschoolers.

8.  Take a call from the preschool teacher, who is (kindly) wondering why you are not at her house and why you aren't there to provide transportation for other preschoolers.

9.  Hang your head in shame and frustration.

10.  Try to figure out how to spend the next 45 minutes until the preschoolers arrive for the field trip that really begins at 10:00, not 9:00.

11.  Stroll around with small children, enjoying the scenery (this time it's pretty).

12.  Decide to follow the running 5-year-old onto a trail head.

13.  Realize that your boots and the kids' flip-flops aren't really meant for hiking.

14.  Let the toddler loose and carry the stroller over your shoulder.

14.5   Realize two days later that you should have collapsed it and made your life 6,000 times easier.

15.  Stop occasionally to enjoy the breathtaking views.

16.  Lose one of the toddler's darling new sandals on the trail.

17.  Return to meet the preschoolers just as the organized presentation starts.

18.  Start to feel dizzy and nauseous.  Get worse and worse until you have to sit on the floor in the middle of the room where kids are walking around.

19.  Tell Rachel, the preschool teacher, that you can't function and need to lie down in the van.

20.  Pass out (maybe literally?) for 30 minutes while Kate plays in the van.

21.  Wake up and tell your children that you forgot to pack them lunches, so they have to watch everyone else eat.

22.  Require Rachel to drive you home in your own van while you collect your wits.

23.  Discuss mental illness all the way home.

24.  Listen to the children scream all the way home because there's not time to stop at McDonald's as promised.

25.  Wonder if the children are the sources of your mental illness.

26.  Feed the children nuked chicken nuggets and plant them in front of the TV.  Put the baby down for a nap.

27.  Pick up Clara, the babysitter.

28.  Go to Melissa's house to collect the large posters for senior night that she has kindly stored for you (in her house without small children or pets).

29.  Bring in the big package on her doorstep since she isn't home.

30.  Leave your big blanket in her living room.

31.  Set up for senior night at the church.

32.  Talk to Karla in the parking lot for a long time.

33.  Return home to happy kids and take Clara home.

34.  Try to clean up the house a little.

35.  Receive a call from Marcia, a friend at the boys' school.  Find out that Tyler is crying in the office because Zach took off after school without him.  Thank Marcia for bringing him home.

36.  Measure and cut and roll a new hem for the maxi skirt/dress/thing you want to wear to senior night.

37.  Roll the hem onto the outside of the skirt instead of the inside.

38.  Don't realize your mistake until you have sewn four inches.

39.  Spend ten minutes looking for your seam ripper because  you can't pull the stitches out of the slick fabric.

40.  Give up and call your neighbor, who is not home, if you can borrow her seam ripper.

41.  Quickly make one more thing in Photoshop for senior night.

42.  Give up trying to make the dang thing print.

43.  Gather final items for senior night in a bag.

44.  Meet Garry at McDonald's for dinner with the kids because it didn't happen for lunch.

45.  Pride yourself for eating yogurt (gag) and grilled chicken for dinner.

41.  Zip towards home, pick up a fellow cub scout, and take Tyler and his friend to the church for Den Meeting.

42.  Go home and change your clothes into the outfit you have decided upon in lieu of the dress with the stupid hem.

43.  Get your husband to help you print the thing you couldn't print before, and to find an HDMI cable, and to calm your frazzled nerves.

44.  Fly out of the house, five minutes behind schedule.

45.  Pick up the projector you are borrowing from Melissa for senior night.

46.  Find out that the package on her doorstep was outgoing, not incoming.

47.  Watch a fantastically hilarious senior night unfold at the church.

48.  Begin the slideshow finale.

49.  Recoil in horror when the slideshow stops right in the middle because your computer died.

50.  Realize you left the power cord on the desk at home.

51.  Drive home to fetch it.

52.  Start the slideshow again, but this time with half the audience because people started to go home.

53.  Go home, mostly high on euphoria, and not sleep for two hours.

54.  Dream about a colony of bees taking up residence in your piano, which mysteriously lived in your son's tiny bedroom.

55.  Start another day.

My day in pictures