It’s Tuesday again…oh wait, it’s Thursday.
How many more weeks can I do that before y’all stop reading entirely? Oh let’s not find out. I’ve been looking around for inspiration lately and I find it… everywhere. It’s just that sometimes there is actually TOO much inspiration. SO much so that I don’t know where to start. I’ve been ignoring the blog for the sake of the seven hundred other things I’m doing. Apologies. I have worthwhile things to say. I swear. I just don’t have time to TYPE them. And also the baby likes to eat the charger cord for my laptop. SO yeah. Already replaced two of those because her spit corroded the connection point.
Annnyway, I’ve been super ultra mega productive lately making things like cake and blankets and cake and making sure the newly crawling/standing/crusing Ella doesn’t kill herself. Seriously. HELLO. She started crawling like less than a month ago (just a couple of days shy of 9 moths old) and now she’s decided that crawling is bor-ing and she wants to walk. So she’s standing and trying to walk bascially every time she gets near enough to hold onto to any object. Stable or otherwise. I feel like it’s my full time occupation to keep her from dying. In other news, she weighs like a million pounds and is basically the HULK so keeping her on my lap or from falling over is breaking me in half.
Also… the big kids are out of school. This is not news because you know, it’s summer, DUH, but what is news is having four kids at home during the day somehow eats my day all up. Like this… IT’S 10 PM? WHAT.THE.HELL. I just got UP like 25 minutes ago. UGH. Oh you don’t understand this? You say you’d like to know what a typical weekday in my house looks like? SUUUURE. You asked for it. Being a mother of FOUR IS NO JOKE PEOPLE. Here goes:
5:30 ish am: Wake up with Ella because my bedroom is as bright as the SUN. ie when the sun comes up it shines in there and wakes everyone up. Cause we like farmers now y’all. Text message Man to tell him I’m up (reminder, in case you’re new to the blog: a typical weekday does NOT include the presence of my husband who works away from home several days a week). And to describe the abysmal excuse for sleep I got. Apply kisses liberally to baby. Take a wake up pic for instagram because I’m an addict.
5:30-6:00 Nurse and lay in bed. Maybe fall back asleep. If I pray real hard to the sleep god and the planets are aligned. Usually not.
6:00 Give up. Get up. Put on something that isn’t just underwear because my boys are sick of seeing me in just underwear. Potty Ella. Clean potty. Switch laundry that has been sitting wet since last night in washer. Unload dryer. Throw pile of clothes on floor. Vow to fold it later.
6:3o ish Go downstairs. Make coffee. Feed Ella yogurt. Wipe yogurt off the floor. Wipe yogurt off Ella. Wipe Yogurt off myself. Wipe yogurt off Ella again. Drink cold coffee. Try to keep Ella from spilling said coffee.
7:00 or 7:30 ish Put Ella down on the family room floor. Keep her from killing herself. Log into facebook. Instagram. Twitter. Gmail. Skype. Pinterest. Blog. Google news. Huff post. RSS reader. Die from ultramegainternetconnectivity.
7:30-8:30 Get up five hundred million times to make sure Ella isn’t killing herself. Chat with husband. Eat breakfast. Wait for bigger children to rise grudgingly. Feed one thousand animals. Water the garden. Pick the ripe veggies. Let chickens out to roam. Keep dog from eating chickens.
NOTE: It’s ONLY 8:30 and I’ve done four hundred thousand things already.
8:30-9 Upstairs. Check diaper. Nurse again. Snuggle in the nursery that we never use except for that. Put Ella down. Pray to god of baby sleep that she sleeps two hours so I can get SOMETHING done. Cause I obviously haven’t done enough somethings already.
9:00-9:20 SHOWER. Yes, shower. Spend 5 minutes washing hair and body. 2 minutes applying lotion and moisturizer and brushing hair. 60 seconds drying my bangs. 30 seconds putting the rest of my hair in a wet bun. 13 minutes 30 seconds changing clothes trying to find something that doesn’t make me look like a lumpy moose.
9:20-9:45: Make bed. Make second bed. Do more laundry. Wipe the bathroom counter obessively. Wipe the floor obsessively. Clean litter box. Check on 15 year old to make sure she’s alive. Go back downstairs.
9:45-10:30 find boys eating an entire box of cereal and playing xBox. Tell them they can’t have a box of cereal and play xBox until they clean up their room. Sit down and attempt to crochet or sew. Usually fail. Unload dishwasher. Load dishwasher. Let dog eat cereal off floor. Wipe counters obsessively. Sweep. Sweep again. Wait for Ella to wake up right in the middle of me relaxing. Sweep again.
10:3o Repeat wake up routine. Potty. Diaper. Liberal kisses.
10:45 repeat downstairs routine, keep Ella from killing herself routine.
OK I’m tired just typing this. You get the idea? Somewhere in there there will be two more meals. Including one that actually requires PREPARATION. Two more opportunities to obsessively clean the kitchen. An opportunity to vacuum and sweep. Twice. More animal care. More laundry. Probably a trip to the store. Possibly coffee with my lady friends. Definitely having to referee an argument or 57 and hear my 15 year old talk about how awesome her hair is for a minimum of a half hour. The picking up of 17 wet pool towels. The picking up of dog poop. The picking up of the baby to keep her from killing herself. Then bath for baby. Bed for baby. Time for me to sit down. Maybe. But not likely. I will end my day talking to the Man again until 11 and then nurse one more time before I go to bed around 11:30 or 12. At which point I will fall into my bed like a corpse. You can see where it might be hard to get a blog post in.
I do it for these people.
They’re pretty much awesome.