The busiest time at my house is from 2:30 till whenever-the-homework-is-done. Last night was once such example. A typical evening if you will.
2:30pm- 7th and 9th graders return from school. It has been 4 hours since my 7th grader ate and almost 3 for the 9th grader. They are, of course, starving as if they are elephants finding water after a drought. I greet them with a smile and ask how their day went. They give the obligatory half hug, and zoom to the only room that really matters, the kitchen.
Being the wonderful mother I am, a healthy snack is waiting on the counter. Celery sticks with peanut butter oozing from the middle with “ant” raisins marching down the isle. Oh wait, that’s not today. Usually those spurts of mom “sainthood” happen about once every 3 weeks. The more realistic me is telling the teenagers to save some nacho cheese chips for me and to please use a napkin!
3:00pm- I walk down the hallway, licking the nacho cheese dust off my fingers and realize that the backpacks have not yet managed to heave themselves into the hall closet. This, of course, is a total surprise . . . I give a tender and warm reminder toward the vicinity of their bedrooms, “HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU TO . . ..” The equally as charming response comes muffled through the walls, “IN A SECOND MOM!”
It is interesting to note here how time seems to slow down for teens. Five minutes until the bus comes, translates to, “take you time honey, really there’s no rush . . .” The same happens with “in a second.” Now, as far as I know, my kids have not discovered the mystery of time manipulation. Yet, a “second” now means, “if-I-happen-to-trip-on-my-backpack-and-accidentally-shove-it-into-the-closet-then-I-will-have-put-it-away. . .)
3:15pm- The next yellow bus makes it appearance and two more of my children slide from it’s vinyl seats. Meet boys 8 and 10. They are also famished from a hard day of fractions and seeing exactly how high they can swing without doing a full rotation around the center bar.
They greet me with dirt smeared faces, which I kiss anyway and they tromp their way to find the left over remnants of whatever the older siblings didn’t manage to put away. When I say “put away” I mean the “shoving down their throat kind”, not the “putting back in the cupboard kind.”
3:30pm- The bombardment of papers to be signed begins. My kitchen looks like a plane has just flown over heard dropping reams of flyers. Papers of all colors are thrust in my arms along with book order forms, parent volunteer sign up sheets, advertisements for scouting, chess camp, pizza night and a notice saying that the 8 yr. old has once again failed the hearing test.
4:00pm- I pull out the ingredients for dinner and manage to sign and date all appropriate documentation while trying not to garnish papers with onions slices and meat “juice”. Dinner has to be fast, easy, nutrition and done in 30 minutes so that all mentioned children can be nourished before the next round of events. Taco soup fills the void and as I empty cans of ready made food into the pot. I make a mental note to thank the mother’s who came before me who discovered how to can food. One pound of ground beed, taco seasoning and a variety of cans later and dinner is served! I went all out tonight and even sprinkled cheese and a scoop of sour cream on top with tortilla chips on the side. My super mom cape is waving proudly when the 10 year old says, “this is totally disgusting! Can I just eat the chips?”
4:45pm- My fantastic husbands comes home early to help divide and conquer the soccer schedule. He eats his dinner from a plastic bowl while listening to a conference call from work. 12 yr. old daughter borrows her brother’s shirt after changing twice to look appropriate for practice. To my daughters surprise, a hot pink bra does not go with white t-shirts.
They fumble out the door and the 10 yr. old and I follow after to the opposite side of town. Shin guards, socks and shoes are put on in the car leaving behind clumps of dried grass and dirt from previous practices on my recently vacuumed floor mats.
5:15pm- Take 10yr. old for soccer practice and 8 yr. old comes along because it’s against the law to leave him at home. He doesn’t understand the logic in this rule and is pretty sure I am making it up. I remind him of the “hair cutting incident” and he goes quiet. (note to any potential child services employees: The above mentioned incident did not involve any injury and I was home at the time. It is a rather humorous story and I will share it at another later when I have another few hours of uninterrupted time, so sometime next month . . .)
5:30pm- Return home and begin impromptu piano lesson for 8 year old due to guilt of seeing dust on the piano. We sit down and the child begins to pound on the keys. I remind him that “Joy to the World” is a wonderful song, but that he needs to play a little less loudly. As if the cat jumping off the top of the piano and fleeing to the next room, wasn’t enough of a hint. The child promptly continues to play with just as much gusto as before. I begin to get frustrated when the image of the failed hearing test pops into my mind. I tap him on the hand and he looks into my face, “what?” He says. Note to self: find an ENT and become his best friend. It looks like we are due for round 3 of ear tubes.
6:00pm- Find 14 yr. old buried in his room and let him know that I will be leaving to take him to soccer tryouts with or without him. All three of us load up and meet my husband at the 12 yr. olds soccer practice which is almost finished. It is a rule for soccer coaches to schedule all of my kids practices at different times and different fields when at all convenient thus to ensure the most amount of time at said fields.
6:15pm- Time to pick up 10 yr. old from soccer practice. We are making good time across town when a lady waves at me from a red light. I worry that something is wrong with my car. I roll down the window where upon the gal asks for direction. Seeing that I was driving a mini-van I’m sure she assumed I was a safe bet to ask for directions. She was wrong. Because I have a hard time letting people know of my directional challenges, I tell her to follow me. The light turns green and we zoom off to the closest parking lot. I pull out my magic directional device, my cell phone, and begin to look up the address. 15 minutes later, she is going in the right direction. . . I think, and I am now 15 min. late to pick up the 10 yr. old. He seems oblivious to my tardiness and is happily playing at the adjoining play ground. I manage to bribe him into the car and receive a text at the same time from my husband wondering if I have picked up the 10 yr. old as the coach has just called wondering where his irresponsible parents are. I assure him that he is safe and sound in the car and that I in no way understand what the coach was talking about.
6:45pm - 14 yr. old sees the goliath men-children that he is supposed to be playing soccer with and decides that this try-out will probably not go well and decides to opt for another sport/team/athletics of some other nature that more closely resembles his 90 lbs, 5, 8” frame.
7:00pm - All 6 of us have managed to arrive to our fiesta scented home. The dog greets me and I realize that not all of us were fed in such a timely manner. I reward him with extra chunks of canned meaty goodness. Again, the beauty of canned items.
7:15pm - Homework marathon. 8 yr old.- reading journal, 10yr. old - typing log, math worksheet. 12 yr. old - English essay, History worksheet, Social Studies test tomorrow on all 50 states. (hasn’t even started, knows about 5) 14 yr. old - French flash cards, History worksheet and book report.
I run around from desk to desk, up and down stairs and try to find all the things the children need right now! “Where is the glue?” Shouts one from the dining room. “Have you seen my History book, I swear it was right here?” Whines another. I magically find everything, just where it was supposed to be in the first place, but was overlooked in the panic.
9:15 - My eyes are beginning to blur and I feel myself being pulled to the fluffy warm confines of my bed. I kiss the last soft cheek, hug one more body and make my way through the kitchen . . . It is then that I see them, the pile of dirty dishes mocking me from the sink. “Hellooooo, did you forget about us?” I ignore their taunts and make a mental note to update the chore list and actually follow it.
9:30 - I fall into bed and remember the days when the children were in bed at 8pm and my husband and I would stay up till 11 snuggling and watching movies. Where did those days go?
5:15am - The alarm rings, time for the 2nd busiest time of day!
