After a weekend of semi freedom, (the kids were both gone on Saturday for most of the day) yesterday, I resumed my everyday role of cook, chauffeur, maid, kisser of owies, wife and mommy. I finished a couple of loads of laundry, put supper in the crock pot, did the dishes three times, tidied up the house, cursed at the squirrels for eating my colored Indian corn and, after the final pick up of the day, I came home to sit at the computer, after I got the kids snacks, of course.
I spent probably a half an hour on the world wide web maybe a few minutes longer. I ventured up the stairs again to check on the rug rats. On the stairway I stubbed my toe on a hot wheels car. When I got to the kitchen I noticed a chair up to the snack cabinets and the bucket of candy out on the counter. A gallon of milk was on the table, I followed the trail of rice krispies to the toy room where I found both of them eating, again, and applying makeup. I expressed my disappointment about the snacks because I knew both of them would have full tummies for supper. I gathered up the dishes and headed back to the kitchen sink. I went through the backpacks adding to the ginormous pile of papers that I will forever collect, but have no idea where to store them, so they sit in a huge pile on my counter top.
By this time it was getting late and supper needed to be assembled so I set the table for reasons unknown to me and put the food on the plates. They didn't touch a thing, but I ate well. As I cleaned up and started my fourth batch of dishes, I wondered if my husband remembered that I wanted to attend the Junior class play at 7. He had left for hunting and I hadn't heard from. him. I waited until 20 minutes till, then I called him to check and he was still in the depth of pheasant land. SOOOOOOOO...
I used a couple of washcloths a piece to clean the rug rats faces off. (What kind of person invents kids makeup that is not washable?) I combed their hair and forced their shoes and coats on and out the door we went. I spent 45 minutes watching ds climb the bleachers and explaining to dd why the curtains closed and the lights dimmed in between scenes instead of watching the play myself.
I came home to a garage that stinks like dead birds, feathers all over the sidewalk and a fridge full of pheasant and supper leftovers I will probably never eat. I was disappointed once again with my husband for not attempting to try to be home so that I could have 45 minutes of this day for myself.
The really sad part is today I am doing pretty much the same thing all over again.
This is my life. I hope there is room for baby #3. I barely have enough patience for the family as it is now.
God grant me the wisdom and patience and, well, whatever else I need to get through this.