A week's worth and the week isn't even over yet!

Monday-Monday! Faced another day with another heap of dirty clothes ready to be laundered. Well over a month ago I decided to adopt my mom's 25 yr. old laundering schedule as I was growing weary of hearing, "Honey, are there any whites?" or "Mom, I don't have any underwear." On a side note: My husband is an orthopedic surgeon! He can locate the smallest of fractures, yet when it comes to noticing the mounds of clean laundry (on our bed) it is the world's hardest I-Spy game. My laundry schedule is supposed to be something like this: Monday-Clothes, Wednesday-Towels/Sheets, Friday-Clothes. Simple? Yes! Achievable? Not likely. Monday was just another day of trying desperately to rid the laundry room floor of dirty clothing and the like. Perhaps I have never been successful in the last month's efforts to maintain this schedule due to the nasty, nay, horrendous virus which inflicted our family conveniently on Memorial weekend when the hub finally had a free Saturday/Sunday from the evil clutches of the hospital and instead we all (yes! all! Even our sweet little Coy boy) spent our 3-day weekend puking our guts out...quite literally. Thus, I have been feverishly washing clothes after clothes after clothes and then towels, towels, sheets, and then more sheets, as well as just about everything else imaginable one can throw into a front loading washing machine. You'd be surprised. It probably didn't help that one of our daughters who shall remain nameless (the indictment charges are still being issued) "forgot" to remove a special little purple crayon from the pocket of her shorts. What a treat when I opened the dryer after lunch one day to find a purple streaked basin and a fully dried load with special purple splotches meticulously placed over each article of clothing! Excuse me, my sarcasm is dripping.

Monday continued... Shyler arrived home from the hospital just after lunch. Hallelujah! The boys were down for naps and the girls were playing outside so the hub and I spent some time together in the garage doing DIY projects. He made corn holes for an ER doc at the hospital and I began refinishing three outdoor lights (garage sale find) made of metal and glass to replace our plastic specials the builder put on the front of our house. I ran out of black spray paint and took a trip to the store for supplies.

Do you know what my favorite store is? Any store which I can stroll through peaceably without pushing two kids in a cart flanked on each side with a bigger kid. There is no reminding to: "Hold onto the cart! Sit down so you don't fall! Put the toy back. We're here to get food. I'm leaving. Did you want a ride home?" Naturally, I say all of these things in a high pitched singing voice parallel to a magical fairy's who loves everything and everyone. Of course, my solo trip to the store is never complete without getting looks of interest from some hairy guy in a dirty and holey tank top who rarely eats apples, but since I am picking a few from the pile and I left my wedding ring at home, hey! Why not? It is either the hairy, burly guy or Jimmy the stock boy who takes me for an 18 yr. old with very healthy eating habits. When I returned Shyler asked, "How was the store?" My answer is almost always, "Peaceful."

Once home my DIY project was put on hold...dinnertime. I started rummaging through the cabinets and fridge and began the long arduous task of creating a delectable meal for a family of 6. As I was washing potatoes my mind was sparked with the question, "What is the date today?" I turned quickly to glance at the calendar on the wall to find it was indeed the day I was supposed to be delivering a meal to a friend who just gave birth. It was 6 pm. I immediately called her and profusely apologized. Where is my brain? Thankfully, she has meals lined up for the next two weeks. She assured me all was well. I was grateful for her ability to quickly forgive my absentmindedness. My brain delinquency nearly threw a major wrench in the promises of FHE and an early bedtime for the girls.
Tuesday TUESDAY Tuesday: I made numerous intermittent attempts at finishing the outdoor lights. While the boys were enjoying an afternoon slumber the girls rode their bikes, played with sidewalk chalk, and consistently asked me what I was doing in the garage even though it was quite obvious I was playing with a spray paint can. I moved onto refinishing two tall lamps (more garage sale finds). I am pretty sure in the midst of all the DIY projects I did MORE LAUNDRY! I have yet to tackle the large pile of crayon soiled clothing. The hub contacted me around 4pm to inform me 3 knee scopes, a finger attachment, and possibly a hip surgery were on the agenda. Translation: We're having cereal for dinner since dad won't be home. I had two visiting teaching appts. set for 7 & 8 pm. One sister seemed content with rescheduling. The other was upset. She called my companion. She thought we stood her up. My companion told her a message was left around 4:30. The sister said she didn't check her machine so how was she supposed to know we weren't coming. The audacity to leave a message on an answering machine!

Bedtime rolled around and I was most grateful for the the girls' 7:30 march up the stairs. Mistakes are the fabric of growth especially when unforgettable consequences are applied. Our girls cringe at the idea of going to bed early during the summer. Another consequence the girls earned by earlier choices was a ban on book reading before falling asleep. Addie struggles with this especially since she recently learned to read via self-mastery. She was in the closet trying desperately to get through a book before big mama made her evening patrol rounds. I offered her the comfort of a nice warm bed. She refused and ran out the room. This is how it played out:

Mom: "Sweet girls get to sleep in their nice warm beds. Mean girls have to sleep on the back step.

Addie-tude: "No! I don't want to sleep outside! No! No! No!"

Mom: Placed Addie on back step. "Are you going to sleep on the grass or the step? I would be happy to get your pillow and blanket for you. May I suggest you sleep on the step? The grass is going to be wet and full of bugs. It looks like it is going to rain again tonight. You might want to put your head closest to the door. That might shield you from the rain a little bit."

Addie: "Please! No! I don't want to sleep outside!"

Mom: Handed Addie her pillow and a blanket. She refused to let go of her pillow. I found out later she was worried it would get dirty. I shut the door and sat quietly on the couch in the great room where I had a clear view of the perpetrator. She clung to the door and kept looking to the sky. I made two or three attempts to welcome her back into our home.

Addie: "I'm not ready to come in. I need to sit out here longer and decide if I'm ready."

Soon the assailant was knocking on the door and crying for her evil mother.

A hug was given and the suspect was sent up to bed.

Soon after this incident the hub arrived home from a long day of surgery. We went out to the garage to put our new (but old) outdoor lights back together. Some of my favorite moments are working side by side with my guy. He's patient and kind and forgiving of my follies. Upon finishing the lights the door from the house creaked open and their stood the assailant whom I had just sent to bed. She insisted she needed to tell her dad a few things which were of the utmost importance. We walked past her into the house and asked her to kindly shut the door when she was done. We then moved onto preparing a "kids are in bed let's celebrate" treat as Addie stood at the edge of the kitchen insisting her information was urgent! We calmly told her to go back to bed. She refused. She stomped. She huffed and puffed and so back to the step she went. She was mad. She was screaming and crying.

Shyler and I turned off all the lights and sat quietly eating our dessert on the couches in the great room again where we could see the entire thing play out. She looked to the sky. She tried desperately to see through the sliding door. She kept saying, "Mom and dad you're not supposed to turn off the lights and go to bed! You can't leave me out here! Don't leave me alone!" We watched and waited and giggled a little. It took her nearly thirty minutes this time around until desperation kicked in. She kept looking out into the yard as the dark was quickly settling in for the night. Soon she was pounding furiously on the door and crying. Shyler was ready to rescue her once the sobbing started. I begged him to hold off so she would really want to come in and go to bed. I needed her to WANT IT! We waited five more minutes. Shyler walked to the door and I simultaneously had the thought, "What if the neighbors come out?" As Shyler hugged Addie and ushered her up the stairs the back light of our neighbor's house flicked on and out walked the woman in a white puffy robe. Shyler asked if I wanted to talk to her. Not particularly. I was selfless and offered him the opportunity to converse with her as to why our child was outside screaming at 9:30 in the evening. She told him they were in bed and heard the crying and couldn't go to sleep until they figured out who it was and if the child needed help. Shyler was very gracious and thanked her for her concern. He told her something about, "Stubborn mule of a child" and that was it.

The next morning over the phone he expressed concern about what the neighbors thought. I expressed an "I don't care." My daughter screams and pounds on the back door. Their underage son smokes. It's a give and take.

WeDneSdAy! I wasted time scrubbing throw up out of Dashle's bedroom carpet. Was he sick you ask? Nope. He gets put in his room when life is a struggle. If he tries to come out before he is calm we shut and lock the door. This ticks him off so he sticks his hand down his throat and vomits. Yes, we have a future CIA operative on our hands. He will likely train new operatives on successfully breaking your own thumb to get out of handcuffs.

I watched a friend's children for most of the day. They played in the basement. They played outside. They watched a movie. They played a game. They played in the basement some more. I made cookies for them. Why is it when other children are in our home they ask for food and complain of hunger pains almost the entire time? I know their parents feed them. If it isn't hunger then it is boredom. When I can not satisfy either of these things then it is the proverbial question, "When is my mom going to get here?"

Shyler arrived home just before dinner. I was spent. I ate quickly and bolted for the car. I enjoyed a somewhat peaceful outing at the fabric store and then a clothing store to procure some Dad Day gifts for the hub. I find it interesting that store employees get antsy and easily agitated when patrons are still moseying around 10-15 minutes before the store closes. The woman at the fabric store checkout wanted me to hurry and sign my John Hancock, but the pen didn't work. Instead of handing me a different pen, she grabbed the one that wasn't working, scribbled it furiously on a different sheet of paper by the register and handed it back. I still couldn't sign my name with the inept pen so I scribbled something with all the strength my hand could muster just to get away from the irritable employee. I was so flustered by her lack of compassion I forgot one of my bags and thus was tracked down in the parking lot by the same employee this time walking swiftly toward me and barking, "Ma'am! Ma'am! Ma'am!" Do I look like a "ma'am" to you?

On my way to the clothing store I stopped by the BFF's house to borrow a helpful 15% off coupon. It is impossible to grab something from the BFF and jet. There is always something to talk about. This particular rapid conversation was based on the outcome of our matchmaking skills with her brother and my sister. We are determined to be related. It was a diluted recounting of their first date since her brother has made her take an oath to not reveal more than the basic information. This was in response to my sister's warning to him that the BFF and I talk A LOT and they both don't want two meddling sisters in Ohio messing up the potential relationship. They are wise beyond their years.

If the fabric store employee wasn't enough I encountered another agitated and flustered employee at the clothing store who insisted she could not help the woman in front of me or myself as the store was closed. It was a very confusing ordeal since it was only 9:55 and the store was listed as closing at 10pm. Hmmm...I walked away and snidely remarked, "Nice customer service!" If you're working the customer service desk shouldn't your demeanor indicate this? It is a rarity for me to get away by myself and just shop! Please! Give me my last five minutes!

Upon arriving home I hugged the hub, gave him a smooch, and relaxed with a bowl of cereal sprinkled with frozen raspberries. Yum-O. I walked quietly to each of the kids' rooms and watched them blissfully slumber for a few moments. Oh! How I love them! Some moments I feel fiercely desperate to get away, but it only takes an hour of solitude to miss them and feel glad to be home again where flustered store employees do not lay in wait. At home our money is saved. There is nothing to be purchased here. Only hugs and kisses and laughter to be earned.