A Day in the Life (or I was expecting more bon bons)
5:00 am Nurse baby. Grow agitated when husband doesn’t hear his alarm going off, because now that you’ve heard it, you’re AWAKE, but can’t turn it off.
5:30-7 am. Doze. Wake up when husband leaves for work. Doze. Wake up when dog wants to go outside. Doze. Wake up when baby needs changing. Doze.
7:01 am Hear the rousing of children. Cry for lost sleep.
7:30 am. Decide that Pop Tarts are an acceptable breakfast. They have fruit in them. Sorta. Or they would if you hadn’t bought the chocolate ones.
8:00 am. Nurse baby. Put her back to sleep. Envy her.
8:30-9 am. Nag children to dress. In clothes. No, in *matching* clothes. And brush teeth. Try to locate child’s missing toothbrush. Find it at the bottom of the basement steps.
9 am Simultaneously educate eldest and appease middle child with “school toys” so he feels like he’s in school too and will leave eldest child alone.
9-12 pm. Repeatedly refuse requests for “Wii breaks” and continue with education. Try to work in chores during seatwork. Hold/feed/burp/change/amuse baby.
12:05 pm. Sit down to check Facebook, but get interrupted when you are reminded that it’s lunchtime.
12:15 pm. Feed the masses. Knock back the first Diet Coke of the day, then curse the fact that it’s caffeine free since you’re nursing.
1:00 pm. Send children outside, where they will cover themselves with sand, mud, dog poo or a combination of the three. Sit down at the computer. Think about writing something. End up watching various “Unnecessary Censorship” clips on youtube.
1:30 pm. Remember laundry. Gather/sort/transport clothes to the washer. Find wet clothes already in the washer. Rewash. Wonder why you have so much laundry when you always seem to be wearing the same yoga pants.
2:00 pm. Send children downstairs to play. Listen to the sound of their obnoxious wrestling float through the floors. Check to make sure your insurance card is in your wallet.
2:15, 30, 45 pm. Say, “No, snack time is not until 3.”
3:00 pm. Snack. Yawn. Nurse. Read the 47th “I Spy” book of the day. Suddenly remember that you put underwear on the potty training one and forgot to direct him to the bathroom every twenty minutes or so. Clean up the mess.
3:30 Vacuum/ launder/scrub/empty/fill/straighten. Repeat.
4:30 Step on legos buried in the living room rug that you just cleaned.
4:35 Act impressed about the lego creations being built, even though you secretly loathe the foot stinging devices of mom-torture. Be thankful that at least they’re using their imaginations.
5:00 Start fielding requests for dinner. Grow exhausted at the thought of making the more complicated meal you had planned. Remember that husband is at work all night, and decide children are happy with macaroni and cheese and peas.
5:30 Dinner.
5:35 Dinner cleanup.
6:00 Send children back outside/downstairs/upstairs so you can fold laundry without having to refold the same laundry thirty seconds later.
6:30 When was the last time you nursed?
7:00 Quiet argument between children by sending one to the bathtub and one to the Wii.
7:30. Switch bather and Wii-er.
8:00 Bedtime snack. Bible reading. Incredibly deep theological discussions concerning salvation, the trinity, sin, whether or not the dog/candy/toys will be in heaven. Pray that you’re answering the questions effectively.
8:30 Start bed prep. Jammies. Teeth brushing. Picking up toys. Refilling water cups. Listen to baby cry.
9:00 Prayers. Kisses. Lights out.
9:01 Change/bathe/nurse baby. Holler at older children that have ignored your previously civilized requests for quiet. Feel your fuse getting very, very short. Long with all your being for the moment they finally shut their yappers and go to sleep.
9:30 Suddenly realize that it is quiet. That *all three* children are sleeping. Do happy dance.
9:30-11:30pm. FREE TIME. Eat massive quantities of chocolate and enjoy your third Diet Coke of the day. Think about showering, but decide that watching old episodes of 30 Rock on Netflix is much more enjoyable. Glance around living room and wonder why you bother cleaning.
11:45 Tuck sleeping children in and remember how cute they are when they’re not screaming/knocking brothers down/whining/asking for food. Pray that you aren’t screwing them up for good. Pray that they grow up to be good civilized people, or at least that they get along with their cell mates in prison.
12:00 am. Nurse baby. Put her to bed. On her back, because the Guilt Fairy says so.
12:20 am Stare at ceiling and wonder why you’re not sleeping.
12:45 Remember that book you’re supposed to be reading for Bible Study. Read three pages. Fall asleep.
5:30-7 am. Doze. Wake up when husband leaves for work. Doze. Wake up when dog wants to go outside. Doze. Wake up when baby needs changing. Doze.
7:01 am Hear the rousing of children. Cry for lost sleep.
7:30 am. Decide that Pop Tarts are an acceptable breakfast. They have fruit in them. Sorta. Or they would if you hadn’t bought the chocolate ones.
8:00 am. Nurse baby. Put her back to sleep. Envy her.
8:30-9 am. Nag children to dress. In clothes. No, in *matching* clothes. And brush teeth. Try to locate child’s missing toothbrush. Find it at the bottom of the basement steps.
9 am Simultaneously educate eldest and appease middle child with “school toys” so he feels like he’s in school too and will leave eldest child alone.
9-12 pm. Repeatedly refuse requests for “Wii breaks” and continue with education. Try to work in chores during seatwork. Hold/feed/burp/change/amuse baby.
12:05 pm. Sit down to check Facebook, but get interrupted when you are reminded that it’s lunchtime.
12:15 pm. Feed the masses. Knock back the first Diet Coke of the day, then curse the fact that it’s caffeine free since you’re nursing.
1:00 pm. Send children outside, where they will cover themselves with sand, mud, dog poo or a combination of the three. Sit down at the computer. Think about writing something. End up watching various “Unnecessary Censorship” clips on youtube.
1:30 pm. Remember laundry. Gather/sort/transport clothes to the washer. Find wet clothes already in the washer. Rewash. Wonder why you have so much laundry when you always seem to be wearing the same yoga pants.
2:00 pm. Send children downstairs to play. Listen to the sound of their obnoxious wrestling float through the floors. Check to make sure your insurance card is in your wallet.
2:15, 30, 45 pm. Say, “No, snack time is not until 3.”
3:00 pm. Snack. Yawn. Nurse. Read the 47th “I Spy” book of the day. Suddenly remember that you put underwear on the potty training one and forgot to direct him to the bathroom every twenty minutes or so. Clean up the mess.
3:30 Vacuum/ launder/scrub/empty/fill/straighten. Repeat.
4:30 Step on legos buried in the living room rug that you just cleaned.
4:35 Act impressed about the lego creations being built, even though you secretly loathe the foot stinging devices of mom-torture. Be thankful that at least they’re using their imaginations.
5:00 Start fielding requests for dinner. Grow exhausted at the thought of making the more complicated meal you had planned. Remember that husband is at work all night, and decide children are happy with macaroni and cheese and peas.
5:30 Dinner.
5:35 Dinner cleanup.
6:00 Send children back outside/downstairs/upstairs so you can fold laundry without having to refold the same laundry thirty seconds later.
6:30 When was the last time you nursed?
7:00 Quiet argument between children by sending one to the bathtub and one to the Wii.
7:30. Switch bather and Wii-er.
8:00 Bedtime snack. Bible reading. Incredibly deep theological discussions concerning salvation, the trinity, sin, whether or not the dog/candy/toys will be in heaven. Pray that you’re answering the questions effectively.
8:30 Start bed prep. Jammies. Teeth brushing. Picking up toys. Refilling water cups. Listen to baby cry.
9:00 Prayers. Kisses. Lights out.
9:01 Change/bathe/nurse baby. Holler at older children that have ignored your previously civilized requests for quiet. Feel your fuse getting very, very short. Long with all your being for the moment they finally shut their yappers and go to sleep.
9:30 Suddenly realize that it is quiet. That *all three* children are sleeping. Do happy dance.
9:30-11:30pm. FREE TIME. Eat massive quantities of chocolate and enjoy your third Diet Coke of the day. Think about showering, but decide that watching old episodes of 30 Rock on Netflix is much more enjoyable. Glance around living room and wonder why you bother cleaning.
11:45 Tuck sleeping children in and remember how cute they are when they’re not screaming/knocking brothers down/whining/asking for food. Pray that you aren’t screwing them up for good. Pray that they grow up to be good civilized people, or at least that they get along with their cell mates in prison.
12:00 am. Nurse baby. Put her to bed. On her back, because the Guilt Fairy says so.
12:20 am Stare at ceiling and wonder why you’re not sleeping.
12:45 Remember that book you’re supposed to be reading for Bible Study. Read three pages. Fall asleep.
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