Just One of Those Weeks

It was a series of misfortunate events. How many times in the last couple of weeks have I said that? My favorite applications for the phrase: house work not getting done, the random gardening mess on the counter, weight gain: most definitely a good one, schedule, heated arguments, random wacky things that need fixed after the kids wreck them. I know that I have a lot of things to distract me. Well, I have at least THREE great distractions to begin with.  And there always seems to be something to do at my house. Just as soon as I sit down to write something else happens or catches my attention.

These are supposed to be some of the best times of parenting. We are finally past the three kids under three phase, where you can barely catch your breath. A break from the hourly rotating diaper change routine. We can go to the park and it’s actually fun for all of us! I can drink my coffee while it’s hot, read the news in the morning uninterrupted, take a shower without the house being burnt down or the kids parading through the neighborhood lost.

Instead, I get to remind my husband that it's time to come home from work, listen to how life is never fair to the seven year old, be told that I am not doing things correctly by the five year old and be told by the four year old that he only has a dad now. (Yes, the same dad who thought it was a brilliant solution to now set an alarm at work to tell him it’s time to come home. Must be nice to like your job that much and forget that it’s past 6, dinner's been ready for a half hour and the kids go to bed at 8.) Add onto that a wife who has been dealing with these crazies and you almost have a circus.

I mean, really, I am almost ready for the circus. My eyebrows have taken on a migratory pattern off of their own. They are finding new paths every couple weeks. Not to mention, I am finding random stray hairs: like on my neck. What? Nooooo, who forgot to tell you about that crazy later in life hormone change when you were glowing with new love or pregnancy back in your twenties? Then I had to go and buy a magnifying mirror so I could see the hairs.

Adding to the crazy train is the ever entertaining efforts to keep a house in a presentable state. I am quite through with telling the kids to quit destroying stuff. Two days ago, it was pulling up the still fragile pieces of lawn to find worms. I went out to clumps of grass everywhere, because they had pulled the sheets of turf up that have failed to root properly since last year. Who does that? Why should anyone have to tell their kids to leave the lawn on the ground?

Later, that afternoon, I had to tell them to scrub the chapstick art work off the closet doors. In an effort to make up for the chapstick, I am sure, (cause I would HATE for it to be yet another random substance on the wall) I caught them with a stolen sponge and the 409 working on a wall. A for effort, but did I really have to tell them to put the cleaning supplies back where they belong? The five year old has also somehow forgot all the previous lessons of toddlerhood. The other day, she shredded a whole roll of toilet paper. It was down the hall and in the kids’ room in the time that it took for me to carry on a ten minute phone conversation. 

My favorite was the day that I decided to sort through the kids’ stuff in their rooms. One huge yard bag of clothes, one smaller yard bag of garbage, a mister clean eraser and a lot of vacuuming later, I managed to totally clear out the girls’ room. When the oldest got home, she told me that their room looked much better arranged this way than it did before.  After dad got home, we discussed some other changes and moved a few things around further, she got the vacuum out to “clean up the spots I missed” and told me she cleaned their room. 

So here I am, in my fourth or fifth attempt to write my blog this week, looking at three (generous number) unfinished projects I started today and drinking my tea. Thankfully, the eyebrows got waxed, some seeds got planted, some more stuff got taken care of… but while doing those things, I neglected others. I’m laughing at Facebook posts: one from a friend asking why she has to remind her 7 year old not to bite her sister, another saying it’s definitely a day for chocolate and another looking for some motivation. I have three kids in corners and we’re all waiting for dad’s alarm to go off at work. It's just one of those weeks.