The mediocre mother.

School time is back in full swing. With the school day lasting a whooping eight hours these little chickadees are purty durn tired by the end of it. 

I try to keep to a routine--I am by nature a very routinesk person.  Back in the days of very small children I was very very good at keeping a routine.  That, of course, as I said was back in the day. Today is today, today is not back in the day.  But, we do try our best.  Me and mine, we do much better when we know what the plan is...even when we are tired.

All five punks are in school full time this year.  Might I just say that is a lot of information, stories, homework and junk to deal with when they get home from school at 4:30 in the afternoon.  So, the "plan" or "routine" goes like this: they walk in the door and I am in the kitchen with a snack ready (they are starving), we have a snack and catch up on the day (slightly time consuming process), we then discuss who has what homework and go over papers for me to look at, they are then responsible to take care of any clean laundry and their back packs and we are off and running like a herd of turtles.

Now, bear in mind that two of the four nights a week we are not just chillin' at home...Monday is FHE and Tuesday is mutual.  Which means we have to put everything into high gear in order to get it all accomplished.  The older kids are quite self sufficient when it comes to homework, the younger ones not so much. The youngest one really not so much.  We are in the stage of sitting and reading together (which I LOVE to do btw--but it  takes time).  In the midst of being engrossed in a first grade reader I am constantly being told 'one more thing I forgot to tell you about school' and 'just one quick question'.  Throw in a nightly dinner, showers, and  bed time extravaganza and you have yourself the makings of a three ring circus.

I am ready for them to come home every afternoon.  Here's a little confession, (and for anyone that knows me well knows how strange this is)  I have been turning on a little Pandora in the afternoons...been jamming out to a little Abba lately.  Weird.  I never used to turn on music.  I have always enjoyed the quiet when it came, but it gets a little too quiet around here.  Nowadays I make a snack with a little background music.  What I am saying is that I am geared up and happy to see them every day.

However, my excitement seems short lived.  By 8:00ish I am just about done in and I want to retreat to the mediocre mother world.  The world where some one else puts the youngsters to bed and some one else finishes the kitchen and someone else makes sure everyone gets showered and has their homework done and someone else gets everything ready for the morning and someone else stays up until all the punks are nestled snug in their beds.

I am amazed daily at how quickly I run out of steam.  It's quite pitiful really.  Raising kids is exhausting, and don't let anybody tell you differently.  It's fantastic and the older they get the more enjoyable it is to watch them turn into fabulous young adults, but it's a boat load of work.

Here's the deal-e-o...I don't live in the mediocre mother world.  I may not be great at a lot of things, but I am a good mum.  Although I do think those things pretty much every evening I don't actually do those things every evening.  I keep going and get the job done.  I think that makes me an A-okay mom.  And  I'm pretty happy about that. Plus I make a killer chocolate chip cookie....pretty sure that's worth a ton of points in the 'good mom' rule book.

And then there were none....

School started just over a week ago for the kiddos.  

So far everyone is happy and enjoying the new school year...including me.

 I LoVe this pic of my punks.

They are really a good looking bunch.

 Adam is a Senior.

Craziness.

 Audz is a Sophmore.

Craziness.

 Goose is in 8th Grade.

Craziness.

 Elsie-Girl is in 5th Grade.

Craziness.

Grant Delish is in 1st Grade.

Craziness.

And then there were none....

All my kiddos are in school all day.

And I'm not exactly as excited about it as I thought I would be.

Except on Friday's, when they are all out of school...

then it seems really great that they are all gone Monday-Thursday.

:o)

Can I get a Howdy?!?

Howdy!!!

Wow!  Do I even remember how to blog??  Umm...Yes.  Yes, I do. 

I would like to start the list of excuses with the fact that our lovely computer came down with a terrible virus.  My new (in addition to my old) job's IT guy came to check it out and told me how special we are because he only sees viruses like that one once or twice a year.  Awesome.  (Yes, btw I have a new job. Long story short I'm doing some medical billing stuff.)
Sooo...we had to factory restore our trusty old computer, which took forever.  Did I say forever?  Because I meant FOREVER.
That's excuse #1.

Excuse #2...no camera.  My punks love to make movies and take crazy pictures and all that great stuff that entertains them for hours on end. The downfall??...they are really hard on stuff.  I call them little consumers for a reason.  Granted, the camera was quite old, but it still worked.  Sort of.  The bright side??....Lucy got a little video camera for her bday.  Unfortunately this was after the little punks consumed my camera.  Let's face it, blogging is more fun with pics.

Excuse #3- #110....it's summer for crying out loud.  Where, oh where did my summer time go?  Oh where, oh where did it go???  With it's days so long and it's nights so cool, oh where, oh where did it go??  Seriously.  Don't know.  I was busy.  But, for reals, it went by in a blink.  A blink!

And here we are just 4 short days until the kiddies go back to school.  FOUR DAYS.  Four days and all my little chick-a-dees are off on the grand, blissful adventure called school.

Tonight was 'Back to School' for Elsie and Grant.  I kinda like the way they do back to school here in Good Ole P-town.  The kids bring all their school supplies, meet their teacher, check out the classroom and get settled in.  On the way uptown the kids were talking about their new teachers.  Elsie decided they should play a game called "Guess what your teacher looks like".  She went first.

She thought her teacher would have blonde hair, be medium height and be middle-aged.
Grant thought his teacher would have dirty blonde hair (dirty, dirty blonde hair), be medium height and be almost full-aged.
Which begged the question from me...what exactly is full-aged? He told me his teacher last year (who btw was fresh out of college and looked to be about 14 years of age) was juussst about middle-aged.  I then asked what I was, if this young little filly of a teacher is almost full-aged I must be like...ancient, right?  He and Elsie explained to me that I wasn't all the way full-aged yet, but that I was close.  And the crazy thing is Elsie just chimed right in like this is a term used in everyday life????
Hmmph...kids.  They are so weird.

Well, tonight is the much anticipated 'Cousin Sleepover End of Summer Grand Adventure'.  It includes shenanigans such as Wild Race Car Driving, Sunset Watching, Tramp Sleeping (for the boys) and Hammock Sleeping (for the girls).  Please bless that they will eventually pass out....hopefully before the crack of dawn.

Party on Wayne.  Party on Garth.
Party on Peeps.

Summer Laundryfest.

I finally had the first
"I-will-get-all-the-laundry-done-
today-or-you-
will-find-my-cold-dead-body-underneath-it"
day of the summer.
Yes, I do realize we are a week+ into summer.  What??  I've been busy.
So here it is.  All the masses of laundry.

Does that look like a lot?  Cuz it sure felt like a lot to me.
And this is just the punks laundry and I hadn't even folded the levis yet.
Holy Crap.
In their defense it had been quite sometime since I had really hit the laundry hard.
But still, Holy Crap.
My corpse would of been stinking it up a wee bit before anyone
found me under that mountain of fabric.

Since then we have had a Come to Jesus talk about laundry
(p.s. this is not the first Come to Jesus laundry talk we have had, 
probably they just really enjoy these little chats)
 and summer.
Something to the effect of who has two thumbs and
will not be spending her summer vacation
being buried alive under mounds of laundry?  THIS MOM.
Something to the effect of you people do not need to put clothes
 in the hamper that you have just looked at or even thought
about putting on your cute little bodies.

Hello?...Isn't one of the fundamental joys of summer
wearing the same clothes for three days straight?
No?...Maybe that was sipping lemonade in the hot summer sun
and star gazing on cool summer nights.
Eh well, I really think wearing the same clothes for three days
straight should be one of the fundamental joys of summer.

Live it up, Peeps.  Let loose and wear the same clothes day in and day out.
That's what my Punks will be doing.

:o) Peace Out.
Happy Summer.

Sharing.

Have you ever found something out that you feel the need to shout from the roof tops?  Have you ever sat in the doctors office and actually said "Why don't people know about this!?!?"  Here's my story:

Once upon a time, 18 years ago...oh, I'm sorry did I say 18 years ago?  I meant EIGHTEEN YEARS AGO the hubby and I anxiously awaited the birth of our first born child.  I remember our excitement when we purchased our first package of diapers months before we really needed them in our efforts to stock pile them.  Babies go through a lot of diapers, we'd been told.
And so began my journey of supporting the diaper industry.  And since that day so many moons ago it has.never.stopped.  Yes, really.  I have either been buying diapers or pullups--or both--for over 18 years.  By my calculations I have spent, well...a lot of money!  I've been told that bed wetting can be genetic. 

Here's a fun little story problem for you:  One of the two of my children's parents was a bed wetter for a long time.  And it wasn't their mother...you do the math.

We have had more than one of our children struggle with bed wetting, I have been told over and over again that 'they will grow out of it' and they have.  Except the last two.  Audrey was in 5th grade before she stopped so I haven't been in a total panic about Elsie and Grant.

Mikey threw a few things into the gene pool that I'd just assume he'd left in the dressing room.  Ginormous tonsils top the list.  We have had Mike's, Audrey's and Lucy's removed.  All three of them had big BIG snoring issues (one of them still has some issues--he will remain nameless) and they would get strep throat multiple times a year.  So, these giant tonsils were obstructing the air while they slept and they were also a little petri dish for every sickness that came down the pike.  Elsie also inherited the giant tonsils.  She hasn't picked up strep, but she does battle a sore throat on a regular basis and she snores like an old man--just ask her sisters that share a room.

I finally decided it was time to look into getting her tonsils removed.  We went in for her check up and we were referred to an ENT.  I took her in today.  This morning I had a little mini epiphany.  Audrey quit wetting the bed shortly after she had her tonsils out.  I decided to share this little tidbit with the doctor...I told her this was just Doctor Mom speaking, but could that be related??  She said Absolutely Yes!!  What?!?  Apparently bed wetting can be a result of sleep apnea.  Who knew??  Not me.  Who should know?  Pediatricians.  And parents of bed wetting kids.

Now, do I think that every bed wetter has sleep apnea? No.  But I certainly had no idea the two were even related.  The doctor told me that kids of normal weight and who are other wise healthy shouldn't be snoring or wetting the bed at this age.  She said that they have had kids in their late teens who have been to the urologist multiple times and on some pretty heavy medication come through the door to find out  it was sleep apnea all along.

Well, fan-diddley-tastic! 
I'm super happy to have the info and thought you should too. 

*This public announcement 

brought to you by farmgirl.  

**I am not sponsored nor 

do I have any affiliation 

with nasty tonsils. 

Thank you. 

Tomorrow is the 1st day of the rest of Summer.

Holy Schnikies!  It's June 6.  Hello?!  Good thing tomorrow is the first day of the rest of Summer!!
And, yes, there is a good chance I'll be saying that all summer long.

I'm just going to keep that attitude up as long as possible:

House is a disaster?
No worries.  Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of summer.
Didn't get the weeding done?
No worries.  Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of summer.
Laundry piling up?
No problem.  Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of summer.
Didn't push myself out the door to run this morning?
No problem.  Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of summer.
Didn't get the kiddies to bed until all hours of the night?
Not to worry.  Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of summer.

Are you picking up what I'm putting down here?  Are you smelling what I'm stepping in?
Fiddley Dee.  Tomorrow is another day and as long as I'm filling up my days
staying busy (even if it's not "on the to do list") it's all good. 
Eventually I will have a day or two here and there and I will get all my junk done. 
Or sorta done, done until the chickadees walk in the door...wait, the chickadees are here 24/7. 
Okay, so maybe I won't get it done--but it's all good.

Last summer was not my best work.  It pretty much chewed me up and spit me out on the curb next to the school bus.  That will not be the case for Summer 2013.

And guess what??  I want to blog this summer.  For reals.  I know I'm an old fashioned gal that way, but really...status updates on FB and all those rad (umm...did I just say 'rad'? Yes, I am so so so on the cutting edge of things) new fancy shmancy things just aren't enough for me.  I quite enjoy rambling.

Summer 2013...let's get ready to rock and roll.
...tomorrow.

The M-day.

I have a love/hate (well, not hate--but dislike strongly) relationship with Mother's Day.  Does that make me a bad Mom?  An ungrateful woman?  I don't know...I don't think so.  Am I a little hesitant to admit that?  Yes I am.  It doesn't sound good.  A mother that doesn't like Mother's Day?  I am, really and truly, grateful.  I love being a Mom.  I don't know if all mom's feel the way I do, or just the really strange ones.  Maybe you get it or you don't, but if you do...you really do.  It's a weird day. I remember how shocked I was those first few years of my own Mother's Days, it wasn't all it was cracked up to be.  I don't know what I was expecting, but it was a shock. Mother's Day seemed so hard for everyone around me.  My dear old hubby and children wanted to make it great, but it felt stressful for one and all.  Every thing about the day felt forced.  It was a relief to have the day over and just get back to normal.  No one wanted my job.  And, frankly, I didn't really enjoy watching them try. I've been at this gig for a few more years since then and I've learned to take the day in stride a little better. It helps that I have a mini me that can cook and clean like a champ. It's still weird.  But, I do enjoy it more than I used to.  I was chatting with me mum about this strange phenomenon the other day and she shared with me a story.  A story that I would like to share with you.  It's well worth the read. I relate to the invisible woman.  That might be my problem with the M-day, it feels fake to make such a big to do out of something so ordinary.  I'm building cathedrals for crying out loud!  Let me do the work I do and just be nice to me every day.  And maybe once a year you can offer to rub my feet. Here it is...enjoy. Perspective on Motherhood: The Invisible Woman

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. By Nicole Johnson It started to happen gradually … One day I was walking my son Jake to school. I was holding his hand and we were about to cross the street when the crossing guard said to him, "Who is that with you, young fella?" "Nobody," he shrugged. Nobody? The crossing guard and I laughed. My son is only 5, but as we crossed the street I thought, "Oh my goodness, nobody?" would walk into a room and no one would notice. I would say something to my family - like "Turn the TV down, please" - and nothing would happen. Nobody would get up, or even make a move for the remote. I would stand there for a minute, and then I would say again, a little louder, "Would someone turn the TV down?" Nothing. Just the other night my husband and I were out at a party. We'd been there for about three hours and I was ready to leave. I noticed he was talking to a friend from work. So I walked over, and when there was a break in the conversation, I whispered, "I'm ready to go when you are." He just kept right on talking. That's when I started to put all the pieces together. I don't think he can see me. I don't think anyone can see me. I'm invisible. It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?" Obviously not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?" I'm a car to order, "Right around 5:30, please." I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going … she's going … she's gone! One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this." It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees." In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything. A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it." And the workman replied, "Because God sees." I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become." At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree. When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there." As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

Hi and Bye.

I had this great idea to catch up on thee ole blog.  (Okay, let's be honest...not 'catch up'...I'm not a 'catch up' kinda gal. I'm more of a 'start where you are and go from there' kinda gal.)
I've been working double+ my normal hours for over 2 months now, on Monday I switched back to my regular shift.  Working the longer shift is great and not so great at the same time.

Great: double+ the pay.
Not so Great: double+ the time away from home.

Luckily I really like my job and I have a pretty fabo husband who has played Mr. Mom like a champ.  He has been the breakfast maker, errand runner, doctor/dentist appt taker, laundry swapper and all around great guy while I have been away from home.  I'm super, super grateful to have this job.  And I'm super, super grateful to have the job of stay at home mom before this. 

Wanna know a little secret?  I think working full time has the potential to create selfishness...at least it does for me.  I haven't been available to just be around to help out with things.  I've felt out of the loop.  I can't drop what I'm doing and take kids or fix food or take a phone call or whatever.  It's just more about me than I really like to live my life.  But, on the other hand...it's not like I'm working for me.  Me, Me, Me.  I wouldn't even have taken this job if we didn't really need the  income. Which, btw,  I am hoping really and truly will be extra income in the next little while if we can get a little something up and off the ground, a little something that would provide for our lives in general so that we could use my income to put towards Adam's mission.  Gah!  Adam's mission!!  Wow.  Can't go there right now....

I'm just rambling here, it's all good.  

The job is a blessing and the extra hours are a blessing and I'd be crazy to think that working this much wouldn't impact my family and my life in one form or another.

Okay, I'm done with that side track, anyhoo.....
So, as of Monday I went back to my regular shift.  That means I am here in the mornings to get the punks off and get my house in order before I head to work.  Honestly, I think Mike has enjoyed it even more than me. He will come inside and tell me he just really likes having me around.  I have oragansized and cleaned my little heart out this week.

However....it was short lived.
I'm switching shifts again tomorrow.  The plan now is to take it a week at a time and see.  The lady I am switching shifts with had some surgery and came back a little too fast so she is backing off again.
Which is great and not so great.  But probably more great for me than not so great so I will take it and say Thank You.
For now, Hi Ho Hi Ho it's off to work I go! (in the morning anyway)

Spring Break laundry epiphany.

Facts you need to know...
1- It's late so this will be short and to the point.
2- Currently there are 10 people living in my house. (long story, tell you later)
3- Two of those people are my cute little nephews that were only planning to stay one, maybe two nights.
4- The punks are on spring break this week and I am not, therefore I am gone the majority of the day.

So, here's the deal...Porter and William only brought clothes for a couple of days.  Do they just live through the field and could I go sneak into their house and  pick up some more clothes?  Yes.  Have I done that?  No.  Do these kiddos play super hard and dirty all the live long day?  Yes.  Do their clothes show it?  Yes.  Is it necessary to put on clean clothes every morning?  Yes...especially when the creek bed, corn pit and mud puddle are your play ground.

Every night I have been throwing in a load of laundry basically containing the days play and work clothes...and voila my laundry is way easier.  I am seriously considering hiding all of my children's clothes (minus two outfits) over the summer.

It's survival 101.
And we all know Spring Break is just a precursor to summer....a little bit of a reminder of what is very shortly coming.
Kids home ALL DAY EVERY DAY.

Good thing I love the little punks.
Thanks Life, for throwing me a curve ball and teaching me a little something at the same time.
Your good at that.

Some Day.

Here's the deal-E-o, I really do have a lot to chat about.
Here's the problem...I have no time.
Well, I do have time.  Everyone has time for crying out loud!
The past couple of weeks my time has been sucked up by me not feeling so great.
Gotta love a good head cold, right?
And my time has been sucked up by me working a longer shift.
Gotta love a bigger paycheck, right?
Today I am feeling much better, so much better that I spent the entire afternoon
being domestic.
Gotta love cleaning, laundry,errands, laundry, sweeping, laundry, mopping, laundry, brownie baking, laundry...
did I mention laundry?  That's my super duper favorite.
And now, dear friends, I have burned up my afternoon so much so that I am T-minus 4 minutes to the punks getting off the Big Yellow Ticket to Solitude.
But I do have a lot to talk about.
Maybe since I was such a good little hard worker today I'll have more time tomorrow.
Ha!  HaHa!!  I'm so funny.  Did you catch that??  I think I might have more time tomorrow.
Silly, silly farmgirl.

Peace Out, Peeps.
:o)