Child-rearing days tend to blend into one another.
You get up.
You get the kids up.
You nag them to take a quick shower.
You pack their lunches.
You remind them to finish breakfast.
You remind them to brush their teeth.
You hang backpacks on their shoulders, administer kisses and say, "have a good day."
You ruffle their hair and shut the door behind them.
You bathe another child.
You prepare another breakfast.
You haggle over which shoes are just right.
You supervise another teeth brushing session.
You remind another kid to get her things and meet you at the front door.
You drive her to school, wash her hands, complete another goodbye ritual and then leave.
You have exactly 2 hours of alone time.
What to do?
What to do?
What to do?
You take a nap.
2 hours have come and gone in the blink of an eye. You marvel about how you were able to get 2 loads of laundry done while "napping."
You pick up child #3.
You fix her lunch.
You play Play-Doh.
You clean up Play-Doh.
You play Polly Pockets.
You tell her that she must pick up Polly Pockets before the buzzer sounds.
She negotiates, you stand your ground.
You do this at least 10 times before the Polly Pockets are cleaned up.
You put away the laundry from earlier.
You find dirty socks behind bathroom doors.
You shake your head in disbelief (aren't you getting used to this by now?) and pick them up.
Steps sound on the front porch.
Kids #1 and #2 are home.
In a flurry of papers, dandelions and stories about their day, they enter the relative calm of your home.
It's crunch time.
A taekwondo uniform is handed out.
Snacks are packed.
Shoes are donned.
Discussions are had on the way to taekwondo.
Children are reminded about their commitments and their monthly focus for taekwondo, which just so happens to be "kindness."
You're back in the car.
Home for dinner.
You fix, serve and clean-up dinner.
"No, you can't have a snack, you didn't finish your dinner."
Homework is done.
Polly Pockets are back out again.
Action figures and Polly Pockets harmoniously co-exist for 5 minutes before battle ensues.
Teeth brushing is repeated, x3.
You sigh, yet again, knowing that you're not off the hook yet.
"Yes, you can have the hall light on."
"Yes, you can have a drink of water."
"Yes, I love you, infinity."
"No, there aren't monsters under your bed."
"Yes, Daddy will be home in the morning."
Somewhere in there, you were able to shower, make a well-child appointment, pay some bills and curl your eyelashes. Somewhere in there, you remembered to use deodorant and match your own socks. Somewhere in there you actually cried watching an episode of Oprah (which is rare) in which Celine Dion sang a request for a woman who had lost her father; you cried so hard you had tears in your neck! You then consulted the calendar wondering where in your cycle you were that would contribute to such nonsense. You don't even like Celine Dion that much. Somewhere in there you tried desperately not to lose your head when your #1 kid had to be reminded for the 5th time to "get your shoes, it's time to GO!"