I don't know the last time I was so completely thrilled for Friday. All week, the thoughts in my head have been jockeying for position, fighting for the chance to be the chosen thought. The one on which I will actually focus. I guess the real-life, six young voices whining, yelling, and clawing for attention weren't enough. Each day came with a new crisis, a new surprise, and each crisis or surprise needed some individual attention that I just couldn't provide. Instead of regaling you with a post about each thing, I'll give you the thoughts that happened to have won the pole position at some point today.
I took an algebra quiz, and I couldn't be more excited. I love math. Always have, always will. I have been waiting oh so patiently for my kids to be old enough to get into a level of math in which they would actually need my help. Friends, eighth grade is the magical year. This week, Phoenix asked for help with his algebra homework. Kinda. Since I have never informed my children of my killer math skills, or ever demonstrated my ability to solve math problems, he didn't just ask. He actually entered the room and said, "Before I ask you for help, I need you to do these problems for me." He gave me the problems they had done in class, explaining that if I got them right, I would be allowed to help him. Ungrateful brat. Don't fear, though. I nailed that quiz and have awed him with my math knowledge ever since.
Cuckoo is a typical male. He has had a cold for a week now, and while I know it can be quite annoying, it is not grounds for the behavior we have had this week. Have mercy. Besides the tantrums over every little thing, (for example, he wants help going to the bathroom, until we actually get to the bathroom, at which time he screams for me to go away, because he wants to go by himself) but we have also had to deal with crazy, untrustworthy behavior. Like dashing out the door to leave when we are say, in a public bathroom. Normally, he stands just outside the stall while I go to the bathroom. Not today. While I was in a position that was not conducive to chasing a runaway three-year old, he dashed right on out the door into the wide world of the grocery store. Luckily, I knew Star was positioned out there waiting for us, so I didn't panic. He's been doing things like this all week, and it is wearing me out.
From the backseat, Turken says to me, "I need to see the doctor in my mouth." Come again? "I have a hurt in my mouth, and we need to go to the doctor in my mouth." I'm going to guess he means the dentist. Easy to see how he would forget, as we like to forget that the dentist even exists.
I don't go around looking for confrontation, but when a wrong is being done, I have no trouble stating my mind. As long as I am stating thoughts that are appropriate and properly timed, that is. Let's just say that there was a whole mess of appropriate mind-stating at a soccer parent meeting this week. Some parents just needed to be told that they were way, way, way out of line. Many people thanked me afterwards for saying what they were afraid to say. I have to say that I was quite proud of myself. Until the kids asked me if I said anything during the meeting, and I jokingly tried to say, "Oh, it was on like Donkey Kong." Unfortunately, my tongue decided to tie up at that time, and it came out, "It was on like Gonkey Kong." Phoenix immediately picked up on it and coyly said, "Like Gonkey Kong, huh?" That's what happens when I get all proud and self-righteous. Humility smacks me in the face. And will continue to smack me, as the kids told Hubby about it, and it has now become the new phrase in the house.
With each year that we have lived on the farm, I have become more secure in our ability to handle a major, national catastrophe. We can grow our own food, we have the means to preserve it, we raise animals to provide us with meat. On Wednesday, I was shown that I am completely delusional. At 8:20pm we lost water pressure. No water made it to the upstairs bathrooms. The downstairs spigots were hardly dribbling. I had four stinky, sweaty kids that needed showers, dishes that needed washed. So, of course, I called my mommy like I always do when I have house questions. She told me that it was probably a crack in the line to our house, which would mean a plumber would have to be called and we'd be the ones to pay him to fix it. The line to our house is almost a quarter of a mile long. Thoughts of $10,00 plumber bills danced in my head. Scenarios I did not want to ponder came flooding in, like not showering, or having to open up the old outhouse behind the chicken coop for use again. But then, miraculously, the water company tech guy called and said the water was coming. And at 9:30 it was. Celebratory showers were had by all. And I made note to stock up on water bottles, to build an outdoor shower fed either by rainwater or by one of the many cisterns on the property, and to make sure there is some toilet paper in the outhouse. Just in case.
Hubby announced that he will not be able to help when it comes to teaching the kids how to drive. (It came up while we were watching an episode of the Duggars, aka my weekly dose of "I'm a terrible mother", and Jim Bob was teaching a daughter how to drive.) As much as I hate to say it, I must agree completely. The man is terribly nervous when things don't go exactly according to plan. For example, with every single baby, I have had to "save" him from a diaper blow-out. He'd go to change the baby, get there and realize that it was a monstrous mess, and the yells of "Help! Get up here! Help!" would echo throughout the house. There he'd be, standing at the side of the changing table with a wad of wet wipes in one hand, and a dirty baby hanging upside-down by the ankles in the other hand. A look of complete terror would be taking over both the baby's and Hubby's faces. I can't even imagine how he'd react the first time Phoenix misjudged a stop and got a bit too close to the car in front of him. I can safely say, though, that wet wipes would once again play a part in the clean-up.
I'm thinking I may have cleaned my kitchen for the last time. Nothing shifts priorities around like the knowledge that your kitchen is getting remodeled. Why bleach the sink when in two weeks this sink won't even be here? Why scrub the stove top insert things? It won't even be my stove in two weeks. For that matter, why dust anywhere in the house? In two weeks, the demolition will only cover everything in the house with dirt and dusty debris. Same goes for vacuuming. Basically, this kitchen remodel is giving me the excuse to be totally lazy and not do anything but laundry (because that will never, ever go away, no matter how much I beg, plead, and restrict my children from changing their clothes.) for a good six weeks.
I'm planning to have a nice, relaxing weekend. No more lost sleep from unsettled ideas. No more craziness taking up my days. Just sunshine and soccer. And laundry. There is always the laundry.
Have a lovely day!