A Day In the Life

Kiddo's,
In an effort to preserve for posterity's sake a small picture of our family life, I thought I would record for you what an average day here in our home looks like. There are always variations on any given day by way of field trips, Friday School, play dates, outings with Grandpa, Bible Study, farming, errands to run, etc., and in trying my hardest to keep your best interests in mind and also take advantage of the flexibility that teaching you at home has to offer, I strive to be adaptable, and free-spirited, and even (dare I say) willy-nilly. (But not crafty. Your momma is not crafty. Almost criminally so really by most homeschooling standards. But I am only human, with one or maybe two limitations. And glue guns and scissors and felt and pipe cleaners fall smack dab under that category. Unless letting you play with play-dough is crafty, because then holy-moly, I am the master.)

Anyway, I digress. Off we go.

Sometime between 1-4am: Eliza will wander into our room, pink "ti-ti" in hand, asking to come into our bed. We will tell her no and that she needs to go back to her own bed. She will put up a half-hearted, half-asleep fuss, and then begrudgingly wander her way back down.

Around 4-5am: Jones wakes up and wants a very early breakfast. Thankfully he still has some zzz's left in him at this hour and will go back to sleep for a short while.

7am: I hear the TV go on in the family room indicating Dana has woken up Eliza, or vice versa, and there has been a mad dash to gain control of the remote. Jones usually starts his morning commentary shortly thereafter, signaling it's time for me to start the day for the second time. I take the next twenty minutes or so to painstakingly and carefully turn myself into a domestic goddess. Or I take a five minute shower, throw on a sweatshirt and yoga pants, and check my emails. Whatev.

7:30am: Jones and I head downstairs to get Cora, who will be sitting patiently in her bed, "mouth titi" in her mouth, bedhead for miles, just waiting for me to scoop her up and take her upstairs to join the rest of civilization.

7:45am: Breakfast. Right now, Honey Nut Cheerios across the board. Every. Single. Day. Except for Tuesdays and Fridays, which are syrup-with-a-side-of-pancakes days.

8:15-8:45am: Brush teeth, do your chores (take care of Maude and Grace, kitchen clean-up, make beds) and get dressed (always in a fancy dress no matter how many times I point out how many cute non-dress items you have in your closet). While you do this I spend some quality time on the couch with Jones and his bottle and his chubby, chubby cheeks. Nuk nuk nuk. Love it.

8:45am: You three girls start playing like angels with each other, trying to trick me into delaying school for a few more minutes. I'm not going to lie, this totally works. And you know it.

9-11:30am: School. Devotions to start us off right, followed by Bible memory work, Language Arts, and math for Eliza. We then head up to the couch with an armful of books to read. These will cover history, geography, Bible, reading, and usually a few more just for fun and to reward Cora for only interrupting 10 times out of the possible 1,000. She's a good kid, that one.

11:30am: Jones gets his next bottle, and the rest of you enjoy some free time before lunch. You usually hang around me and on me and over me talking about whatever part of the school lesson you found interesting that morning, and I eat it up, knowing that someday soon being by my side all the live-long day is the last place you will want to be.

12pm: Lunch. Dana, you are on a hot dog or chips-n-cheese kick, Eliza - PB & J, and Cora - chicken nuggets. I admit, your lunch is not the healthiest right now, but I try to offset it with lots of fruits, no sugary snacks (most of the time), and a well-balanced dinner. Everyday I vow to do better in this area, and everyday I fail. Mom-guilt about this one all over the place...

1-2pm: Quiet Time. This is where I send you downstairs so I can have a few moments to myself to refresh and regroup. And this is where you girls take out every toy you've ever owned and redistribute them in every room except the one they're supposed to be in. Jones, you do your best to buck the system during this hour by refusing to nap. (Note to self: should probably rename Quiet Time.)

2-3:30pm: Everyone back upstairs for Round Two. A healthy dose of science for all (the accompanying web videos of mud skippers and killer whales and koala bears turning this subject into an easy favorite), and then math for Dana while Eliza and Cora sniff out any toys still remaining where they belong and find new homes for them. Meanwhile, for Jones it's "bottle/try-to-keep-momma-from-nuzzling-me-while-I-eat" time.

3:30-4pm: TV/computer for you, while I scramble around banging cupboards trying to think of something to make for dinner which will be nutritiously amazing, leave you begging for more, and will only take four minutes to prepare. Will probably be spaghetti. Again.

4-5:30pm: Play time (a.k.a. the witching hour). Normally, if we haven't had any other "out of home" activities during the day, this is where you tend to turn on each other. You: alternating between whining, fighting, and asking me what you can do now. Me: finding an excuse to be in any other room beside the one where said whining/fighting/pestering is taking place and calling your father to find out when in the world he's coming home. It's either that scenario, or you all put on your ballerina dresses and start dancing for the next hour or so. Seriously, it's one or the other. No joke.

5:30pm: Daddy comes home(!), rustles you all up for some hugs and kisses, and we sit down to eat whatever it is I managed to scrape together in my four minutes of preparation hoping whatever it is looks and tastes like I've slaved over a hot stove all day.

5:35pm: Daddy's not fooled, but loves me anyway.

6pm: Me and Jones have another snuggle-fest slash bottle-feeding on the couch, while you girls and Daddy clean up the kitchen. Pretty sure I get the better end of this deal on this one.

6:30-7:00pm: Somehow this has become the designated "Let Loose or Bust" portion of the day. Any energy you have left to expend comes out in any and every way imaginable. As long as it's loud and warrants tearing from one room to the next running over everyone in your wake, it's game. Even Maude takes cover. I usually dodge your child-shaped bullets, take Jones out of harm's way and let you do your thing. Did I mention this has to be done sans clothes? Because it does. Three barely clad little girls turning into monsters, sharks, T-Rex's and the like. A most highly entertaining and (hopefully) exhausting end to the evening.

7pm: Showers, snacks, brush teeth and hair, bathroom, and then back to the couch again for Daddy to read one more story apiece to round out the day and settle your bodies down for a good night's rest.

7:30pm: While you girls suction yourselves onto Daddy's arms and legs and shoulders for storytime, Jones gets a toasty warm bath, lounging in that tub like it's nobody's business (after having to have it refilled three times because he gets a little *ahem* too relaxed).

8pm: When stories are done, like the good little ducklings you are, you all follow Daddy down the stairs and break off into your respective bedrooms. He then takes turns listening to you pray, praying aloud for you, and saying the Aaronic blessing over you. Because that's just how awesome your Daddy is.

8:15pm: Daddy is now being held hostage by chit-chatty little girls regaling him with stories of the day and peppering him with questions about anything they may have missed in his own. He is endlessly patient. Most of the time.

8:15pm: Upstairs, Jones is snuggled up cozy in his footie pajama's, not-so-subtly demanding his last bottle of the day. I oblige, possibly getting too much enjoyment out of his scrunched-up, pitiful little face. It's the bane of his existence, being that adorable and irresistible.

8:30pm: Daddy resurfaces just in time to put Jones to bed while I attempt to put the living area back into some semblance of order so I don't get hives when I reenter in the morning.

8:45pm: Eliza makes an appearance, asking for the umpteenth time what we are going to do tomorrow. We tell her, again, that we'll talk about it in the morning. She tells us, again, that she needs one more hug and kiss. We hug and kiss her, again, and she slooooowly trudges back down, stealing every second she can out of the remainder of the night.

9:00pm: Dana pops by, needing yet another book to read. Being the lover of words that I am, she knows this request will always be granted and that she will be allowed to read until the sun comes up if that's what she so desires.

(You kids, you totally have my number.)

9:15pm: Not to be outdone, Jones wakes up crying out for just a couple more minutes of snuggles and huggles, and for a few more pats on the back to release the last of any pent up air in his tiny belly. The finish line is close, and he's ever-so-cute, so we oblige.

9:30pm: Mommy and Daddy meet once more in the family room, melt and mold ourselves into our familiar adjoining places on the couch, and proceed to zone out together in a most intimate and loving way to whatever mindless TV show we are presently working our way through finishing. (Right now it's old "Cheers" reruns. That Sam and Diane, they sure are something else. On again, off again, on again, off again, will they, won't they... hilarious! But again, I digress.) As we sit there, blissfully relishing in having nothing else to do, there is a sense of relief, a sense of camaraderie, and a sense of accomplishment that takes over when we know you children are snug in your beds, and our parental duties for the day are complete.

Dear ones, it's been said over and over again that the days are long, but the years are short. Truer words about parenthood have never been spoken. I look at the four of you and it seems like just yesterday, just an hour ago, a few minutes ago, a heartbeat ago that you were first placed in our arms and the eternity of your childhood stretched out before us. And your Daddy and I, we're just trying to squeeze every ounce of you out of every moment we have with you so we have something to cherish in the years when you are not ours to squeeze and squish and snuggle and smoosh any longer. So, someday when you are old enough to read this, I ask for your forgiveness and your grace for whatever mistakes we are bound to have made over these years. I'm sure there were many. But I hope in reading these words you can also see that you are treasured, you are priority, and you are loved. And those three things are incapable of change. (Unless, of course, you're still waking us up in the middle of the night to crawl into bed with us. Then we may need to talk.)
Snuggles and huggles and lots of love,
Momma