A Day in the Life

Last night I ate broccoli. Hence little man enjoyed broccoli milk later on. For a guy who has problems with indigestion anyway, I doomed myself with the first bite. Along comes 11pm, and with it, the first wake-up of a very long night. 11:30, 12:15, 1:30, 2:15, 3:30... and that was the last, because the little broccoli monster stayed awake. It's a good thing he's so cute.

So, yeah. My day began at 3:30am with screaming broccoli burps. Coffee is my best friend.
I finally dragged him back into our bed around 5:30 trying desperately to get a few winks. The back of my eyelids are beautiful, and it's too bad we only got to hang out for a little bit, cause I could look at them all. day. long.

Adam woke up and forfeited his warm spot in bed to a sleepy eyed little lady. Within 30 seconds of her arrival, the midnight beast had awoken to play. Squeals abound. Good-bye sweet, sweet eyelids. I miss you so. I rolled off the bed and stepped on a mountain of blanket and a snoring boy that had made himself comfortable on my dirty carpet somewhere around 2am. That kid can sleep anywhere.

In an attempt to take some of my bed with me, I crawled into my robe and slippers. Plodding downstairs with a squeaking baby in my arms, I realize it's Friday. Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. We can do this.

Slowly but surely, all the children appear like prairie dogs. The snuggles are delicious, the halitosis, not so much. But I'll take what I can get. The coffee is ready, and my wonderful man hands me some fried eggs on a plate.  I look over, and he's eating his out of a dirty pyrex measuring cup. He responds to my raised eyebrow with a shrug. Delicious, but a little weird. Bless him.

The euphoria doesn't last, cause we all know he has to go to work. It's Friday, not vacation.
Once he's out the door, I'm bombarded with the daily question: "Can we watch an episode of Clone Wars...pleeeeeeease?" Historically, I can count on one finger the times that a video in the morning has resulted in a good day of school, but I decide to ignore my instincts and say yes. I was up all night, so my problem solving gears are broken. Smashed, like something that's been...smashed, really well.

Yes. Turn it on. Pronto.

Two episodes later, I make them promise me that when I tell them it's actually time for school, they can't argue...and that if they do, I'll take away all their happiness. And their toothbrushes. Grrr.

Where am I during all of this screen time? Amnesia.  I type this line a mere 8 hours later, and I can't tell you what happened while Anakin Skywalker was saving his padawan. Those minutes have been fully erased from my mind. I would love to say that something got done, like laundry, or dishes...but since both those piles are still there, I'm gonna have to go with 'no'. The force is strong with this one.

Around 10, we finally turned it off and opened the blinds to reveal an absolutely breathtaking day. Hallelujah! Spring is a real thing. Something about those sunbeams transformed all of our groggy brains and put us into hyper-drive. Without a word, each boy pulled out their reading book, curled up in a sunny spot, and entered another universe. It was magnificent. Apparently, they really value their happiness...or their toothbrushes. Either way, there is little that pleases a homeschooling mother more than her child devouring a good book.

This lasted a few minutes, until nap time was over for little man.

Having five kids means that no one lives in silence. One must develop the ability to function and listen in the midst of chaos, or otherwise suffer the defeat of hearing nothing clearly for the entirety of childhood. One child is asking how to carry numbers while subtracting, another spelling out loud, hit, it, bit, sit..., the oldest pacing the kitchen asking for another snack, and someone else yelling from upstairs about needing a wipe. All piled atop of one another, while the smallest continues to squawk and pull my hair and refuse to be put down.

Most days, this cacophony draws me into a very dark place. I have explained borrowing three hundred forty nine times, I already know how to spell, you can NOT have another snack, and wipe your own butt. Today, however, I am amazed at the hope that the sunshine has brought to our dining table. I flit (spelling word!), answering each question without yelling. I wander into the kitchen and clean a counter, come back, answer another question, wipe a poopy behind, glide back downstairs, move on to the next spelling word and repeat the process until they've all finished. I felt like a domestic goddess.

Everything seems better in the light. The rooms are still dirty with the shades wide open, but something about those little dust particles dancing in the sunbeams makes even garbage look beautiful. With the spelling done and the carrying completed, I kicked them outside into the balmy 45 degree day. They chose sandals and sweatshirts (true Michigan-born babies), and rode their bikes back and forth on our block for an hour until lunch.

When they came in, their hair smelled of sunshine.  

That's up there with the smell of newborn babies. Seriously, someone should bottle that stuff and sell it on the black market. So. Intoxicating. And after the snowiest winter in the history of Ann Arbor, I could have parked my nose on one of their heads and left it there for the remainder of the school day. That has great potential for mommy weirdness though...you have to know your boundaries.

So instead I made lunch. --Three boxes of mac and cheese with veggies and meatballs. That snack at 11 didn't make a dent in their appetites. While I'm chopping up the meatballs, one comes in with a joke:

"Knock knock," he says.
Who's There?
"I'm a poopin."
*eye roll* I'm a poopin who?
"No, not I'm a poopin, ihm a poopin"
*still cutting meatballs* Okay, Ihm a poopin who?
"I'm a poopin"
*sideways glance*
"I know mom, I'm just not good at telling a joke."

I love that kid.

All that stuff ^ is now 48 hours gone. There was more, but considering the fact that two days of my life have passed since those memorable moments, I've completely forgotten all of the wonderful and hilarious things they said in the afternoon. Which is sad, 'cause my kids are funny. Currently, two out of those five hilarious kids are throwing up, which isn't nearly as good fodder for blogging...so I'll spare you the details. But it just goes to show that Master Oogway was right:

Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the "present."