I don't write on the blog very often. After a day of keeping track of four people's needs and anticipating the next transition or meal or attempted household task I tend to go kind of blank in the evening. Don't get me wrong - I really LOVE what I do as a homemaker and mom and also what I do with my class I lead at the park, but it does leave me feeling kind of scrambled for me-time after the kitchen is cleaned up. It's kind of hard to explain.
See, I don't think I deserve any kind of medal for managing the kids or barely managing the house or anything - until around 12:30 or 1 on a day with all four kids. At that point I have probably been up and attentive to children in some fashion for six hours. Breakfasts have been made, eaten and mostly cleaned up after, diapers have been changed and changed again, my moniker has been uttered innumerable times, mostly when I have been in another room trying to do something like unload the dishwasher, get myself dressed or piddle away on the iPad for escapist reasons. Snacks have been prepared and eaten, spills have been cleaned up, lunch has been prepared and eaten, the dining room floor has been swept at least once, if not two or three times (We need a dog. If I didn't have to clean up their warm poop with a plastic bag on my hand I would consider it.) Disputes have been interrupted. An errand may have been run or a fun outing may have been made, which had to be prepared for with a loaded diaper bag and the snacks and lunch packed to be consumed on site. Have you seen adult conversation in here? Usually not. It can be had - they are responding to my anti-interruption training - but there isn't usually an adult around to converse with except for the occasional cashier, whom I do converse with more than a Minnesotan should.
If those first six hours have gone smoothly, meaning no meltdowns or major tantrums and the kids have embodied some good values and behaviors and I have remained calm, loving and engaged I start to need to reboot around noon. My nervous system or emotional something needs to get off of constant vigilance and instead focus on one thing or maybe NO thing for a little bit. Same thing happens after the kids are in bed. And so I usually don't think to write any of the really funny statements that Lewis makes or marvel at the scientific way Art approaches his play or glory in the beauty of Netta and Bailey's burgeoning relationship. Instead I just read articles online or plan for my next preschool class or go to bed early.
Or I end up writing a kind of whiner post like this one. But it's not bad. Here's some of those other things I was mentioning...
(Usually declared in a matter-of-fact, "This is how it is" type tone of voice when there is no music on in the car, which is often.)
"Momma, bowls are like apples... Because bowls and apples are round... So, bowls are like apples."
"Momma, friends are people you don't know... so you go up to them and say, 'Do you want to be friends?' and they say, 'Yes,'... and then they are friends."
"Momma, trees are taller than houses."
"Momma, Poppas have a lot of hair on them. Hair on their arms, hair on their... bellies, hair on their feet and hair on their legs." [I add their face.] "Yep! Hair on their face! And hair on their head!" ["But your Poppa doesn't have a lot of hair on his head."] Laughing, "Nooo. Poppa doesn't have a lot of hair on his head."
Netta and Bailey are Friends
They share things. They give things to each other. They trade things. Why, just the other day I was taking them somewhere in the car and had given each of them a book. While driving I heard a little "Neh-me-neh?" and when I got to our destination they had each others books. Today Bailey was drinking from a glass of water and happily held it to Netta's lips so Netta could drink. Netta was sad about something and Bailey came over and patted her back. These are all such fluid parts of their interactions that I would have to have a camera on all the time to catch one, but they are just so sweet. Super sweet to see.