07/16/2009

Yesterday was a typical Wednesday. Nick was at home with us until early afternoon. We didn't do anything grandiose. Played with the kids. Ate breakfast (leftover homemade donuts!). Did some dishes. Wiped down the counters. Made a meal list and grocery list. Double checked the amount of basil I had in my spice cabinet. Did a load of laundry and hung it out to dry. Ate a hodgepodge lunch (some PB&J, some rice-stuffed squash, the remainder of the donuts, etc.). Put the girls down for naps. Nathan and Nick watched a movie. Fed and watered the goats. Made some important phone calls. Nick showers, shaves, and heads to work. Girls wake up. And then the tough part of my day begins. The part where I'm in charge. By myself. Alone. With three kids.

And it is CRAZY!

Lottie needs a bottle. I cheat and prop it up on a blanket while she's strapped in her car seat.

Nia wants a snack. I accidentally refer to her as 'Lottie' and Nathan corrects me. She gets more PB&J...this time on a pita...because it was closer to me in the fridge. I absentmindedly put the jelly in the pantry and do not find it until the next evening.

Nathan wants a drink. This reminds Nia that she is thirsty. There is some debate over who should get what color straw.

Lottie's bottle has fallen over. Reprop.

While putting the jelly in the pantry I spotted yeast packages. This reminded me that I wanted to make bread. So I toss some yeast in a bowl with warm water and walk away.

The dog is trying to eat Nia's pitawich. I smack him with my flip flop and then jump to catch Nathan's chocolate milk as he accidentally elbows it off the table. I'm not fast enough.

I clean up spilled chocolate milk with a towel from the clean-yet-unfolded laundry that is sitting in a basket nearby. Nathan is crying for more chocolate milk.

The phone rings. I can't find it. Did I put the phone in the cupboard? I don't recall. Caller ID tells me it was my friend Judy.

I call Judy back. She hangs up on me when her son, Joel, chases his pool noodle into the deep end of a pool and starts to drown. I feel a little better about my life. I'm not the only crazy one. Judy calls me back later. You know, after she saved Joel. This was the second time Judy called me today. The first time she had to leave because Joel wouldn't get out of the pool and she desperately needed to use the restroom. Yes, indeed, I DO feel better about my kids.

Nathan wants to help me make bread. He sits on the counter next to the mixer and adds the ingredients as I hand them to him. Nia sits on the floor scattering measuring cups and spoons in a ring around her. I pick up the 1/2 T measuring spoon. Nia lets me know I've committed a serious crime.

I return the spoon to her immediately after Nathan dumps in the salt.

I set our bread dough on the stove to rise. Nathan wants a thorough explanation of yeast: it's properties, functions, origin, etc. I know none of these things. "It just makes the bread grow." I tell him. It's a sorry answer, but I don't have time to research yeast just now because Nia is transferring all the dog food to the dog water bowl.

After replenishing the dog food and cleaning out the water bowl, I head toward Nia with a bunch of wipes. I figure I'll change her diaper while I'm cleaning her down. After opening the diaper, I realize I have made a judgement error. She needs more than a cleaning. And I need more wipes. I tell her to lay very still while I get more. As I'm racing to the kitchen sink I see Nathan standing on top of the high chair tray reaching for the top shelf of the pantry. I plop him on the floor before heading back to Nia.

With Nia fixed up and ready to go I return to the kitchen. Nathan has once again climbed the high chair. "What do you need?" "I'm tall, Mom. I'm really tall." "That's great," I say, "it really is. But I'd hate to have you fall. Please climb down." He makes a face but doesn't throw a fit. We count our blessings.

I start making apple turnovers. Judy borrowed my rolling pin a few days ago. I'm rolling out the dough for my turnovers with a playdough rolling pin.

Kyle calls from Alaska. He's done fishing and just wanted to let me know. And, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, he'd appreciate some Mountain Dew or Dr. Pepper in the fridge when he gets back. Sure thing.

I cannot find my grocery list. I will resume the search once my turnovers are in the oven.

Nathan has an accident. I scoot him toward the bathroom with my foot because my hands are covered in butter and flour.

Turnovers make it to the oven. The bread has risen beyond the necessary 'until doubled.' My grocery list is still MIA. It is no coincidence that I haven't heard from Nia lately. I find her on the playroom floor. She's scribbling on my grocery list. I find the only spot that is still clear and write in the word 'pop.'

I take away the pen.

Nia throws a fit.

I walk away.

I take out my anger on the bread dough. I tie it into knot-style rolls and set out all the pans to rise yet again. I also remove my turnovers. The recipe calls for icing, but I can't find any clean bowls to make the icing in. I tell myself they are healthier without icing anyway.

Nathan comes out with his underwear on inside out and his pants on backwards. The pants have a drawstring. It's hanging right smack down the middle of his rear end. I help him pull himself together. Nia has managed to get her hands on one of the raw rolls and is eating it. I don't stop her.

I bake the remaining rolls and leave them on the pans to cool.

I give everyone a once-over. I put my own hair in a ponytail and stick on a ball cap. Nathan needs his hands washed. Nia gets her hair brushed and the bread dough wiped from her face. Lottie just gets a new diaper.

I assemble the diaper bag. Diapers. Check. Wipes. Check. Formula. Bottle. Change of clothes for Nathan. Silkie. Check. Check. Check. Check.

I open the door and get all three kids herded out. The dog is now running loose in the yard as well. While I'm getting him back in the house, Nia follows me in. I have to hold her and squeeze us both through the tiniest crack in the door in order to keep the dog inside. I lock the house.

We get in the car. Nathan wants to sit in the front seat. No go. Nia needs Silkie for the ride. I dig it out of the bag. Lottie is happy as a lark. Blessed child. I recheck myself in the mirror. I need to make sure I put a hat on.

We drive to church. Everyone piles out. Ah! The blessed nursery volunteers. They are SO underpaid. They even stay late so I can attend the post-Bible study choir practice. I'm wondering how many other ministries I could get involved in that would provide child care.

I bring home three tired, freshly changed, and full-bellied children. To bed they go. To the kitchen I go.

Because I still have dishes to wash. Lots of dishes. And rolls to put in freezer bags. And pans to soak. And a grocery list to re-write. I get approximately 1/18th of all the dishes washed and decide instead to scribble a note to Nick. "Sorry for the mess" it reads. "Kids. But, hey, help yourself to an apple turnover."

The end.

That's how a normal day is. We keep the house cooled to 80, but if you are running full steam it feel at least twice that hot! Yet Nick, sweet Nick, scribbles out a note to me. It's on the counter.

Rachel, You are the most amazing wife ever. You willingly care for our kids, and cook meals for the family. You never yell at me or the little ones when we make mistakes. Thank you for all your hard work... Love you big like a mtn. Love, Nick

{So, you'll forgive me if I sometimes have horribly long lapses between blog posts. Right?}