Tuesday, February 2, 2010

40 Minute Blink In My Day

Kari Jobe is singing over the stereo speakers. Actually, she is yelling as the volume is set a little loud from when the 15 y.o. was playing one of his CD’s earlier. I hear the words from one of my favorite songs of hers—“He is here for the broken and life to the one who is undone. Be still, my soul, be still...”

I’m singing along when...

3 y.o. boy comes in the front door crying because he fell in the rocks. I check and kiss all the owies and send him back out.

15 y.o. son asks if I read over the information on the next writing assignment on Summarizing References. “No—sorry...I forgot. Give me a minute.”

13 y.o. boy comes down. “Mom, are you done on the computer? I need to do my math.”  Well, yes—I guess I am now.

Head to the homeschool desk to find the writing curriculum.

Remind myself to go up to do the laundry first. Find 18 y.o. on my bed watching a Francis Schaffer DVD. Wish I could sit down and watch, but off I go with dirty clothes in hand.

Rotate laundry and head downstairs trying to remember what I was doing before coming upstairs.

Trip over vacuum cleaner hose that had been left out. Wind it up and put in closet.

Remember to go find writing on the homeschool desk. Desk is about 8 inches deep in books and papers. The recovering perfectionist in me cringes. I mentally make note to plan some time this week to work on this mess.

6 y.o. girl comes through the door and I hear her whiney voice before seeing her pretty face. She states that it is too cold outside to play. I tell her that it is the warmest January in years around here--she's not impressed--and “Go play!”

Find the writing curriculum notebook binders and head to chair.

3 y.o. boy is screaming outside so I ask 13 y.o. to stick his head out the window and ask him what’s wrong.

Sit down with cup of tea and writing binders.

4 y.o. girl comes in soaking wet and states that she fell in a puddle. Get her wet clothes off and usher her upstairs to put on clean clothes.

Sit down with writing material.

6 y.o. comes in asking where 4 y.o. is. “Do we get to come back in now?” “NO! Go outside and have fun!!!”

Get report from 13 y.o. on 3 y.o. yelling. Some unhappiness concerning the sharing of a Frisbee.

Walk by my kitchen desk and tidy it up quickly. Recovering perfectionist smiles and takes a deep sigh of satisfaction at the accomplishment.

6 y.o. comes in with a drawing that she completed while outside and asks can they pleeeease come in.

3 y.o. tracks mud in with his shoes. Get him changed into his boots. Send them both back outside.

Hang coats laying on hall bench up in closet and let the cat scratching at the back door in.

Sit down with writing curriculum. Tea is cold!

Hear 3 y.o. yelling outside at one of his sisters.

13 y.o. walks in the room and asks what’s for lunch? I tell him I have no idea!

6 y.o. comes back in saying she needs to help the 3 y.o. “Honey, he’s outside.” “No, he’s stuck in the garage.” Oh—that’s why he was yelling. He couldn’t get the garage door opened.

Both the 6 y.o. and 3 y.o. come up out of the garage. 6 y.o. asks once more to stay inside. 3 y.o. yells at her to go ride bikes with him. With forced smile on my face—I send them both back out the door.

I look at the clock. 40 minutes have gone by since I walked by singing along with Kari.

I sit down with a tablet of paper and take a sip of cold tea. I begin to write down all that has transpired over the past several minutes. I want proof that I actually did do something during this time.

4 y.o. comes in and asks if its lunch time yet. I can hear 3 y.o. crying.

6 y.o. comes complaining to me that 4 y.o. gave her part of a broken necklace and then took it back. I tell 4 y.o. to give it back and not be an Indian giver—explaining what that means. Wonder out loud with 13 y.o. where that phrase “Indian giver” originated and he goes off to Google it.

Kari is still singing—well, yelling. I chuckle at the timing of her words. “You sweep me away—sweep me away in your love...where nothing else matters!” No joke! :)

6 y.o. is eyeing me mournfully from the back deck.

I guess it’s time to let them inside and figure out what’s for lunch. We’ll tackle writing tomorrow. I have a muddy floor to clean up before the 15 y.o. who mopped it this morning comes down.