You've heard the old adage, "When it rains, it pours." Well, it's been a regular hurricane here at my house. Teen trouble, investment crises, knee surgery (husband's, not mine), pregnancy worries (mine, not husband's), and a barrage of other little irritations have made life interesting, to say the least. However, through it all I manage to keep a smile on my face. How can I do otherwise, with four children who constantly remind me that life is intended to be enjoyed?
My 10-year-old, Marc, is known for his Jim Carrey-like antics. Walking into walls, making faces, doing voice impersonations, and cracking stupid jokes are just a few of the pranks in his constantly changing arsenal. One of his favorite tricks is falling down the stairs. (Think Saturday Night Live's Chevy Chase.) He does it several times a week. I'll hear the bump bump bump, and while his grandparents come running to see if he's survived, I'll just keep my nose buried in my book. I'm sure my in-laws think I'm a terrible mother.
The other day I was working at the computer and Marc decided to go downstairs to play video games. He dashed down the hall and suddenly I heard him scream out in pain followed by a whole string of bumps. For a moment I thought, "Oh my gosh! He's really done it this time. He's really fallen and has broken his neck!" Despite my fear and that sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach - the feeling we mother's get when we think our children have injured themselves - I remained in my seat.
The silence that followed was ominous, but still I stayed at my post. Finally, about fifteen minutes later, I stood up and casually strolled to the top of the stairs. Directly below me on the landing was Marc lying face down on the carpet, eyes closed, his arms and legs sprawled out in every strange, twisted direction possible. I took in the scene and with one breath said, "Marc, are you going to lay there all day?"
Suddenly, the mischevious grin I know and love so well magically appeared on his freckled face. He opened one eye and glanced up at me as if to say, "Aw, didn't I fool you that time?" Then a second later he was up and jumping down the remaining steps to play.
It's moments like these that make all the hard stuff worth while.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Saturday, September 1, 2007
Welcome to The Haggard Housewife
Definition of Haggard: having a worn or emaciated appearance (synonyms: careworn, wasted, drawn)
Definition of Housewife: A married woman in charge of a household
Welcome to my life. Yes, I am a worn-out married woman in charge of a household, though whether or not I am actually in charge is debatable. When you live in a family with one husband, four children, two in-laws, two dogs, two birds, two turtles and a fish - the question as to whom is actually running the show remains to be answered. Lately, it seems we are more of an anarchy than the sort of organized democratic society a family is supposed to be.
Definition of Anarchy: A social structure without government or law; utter confusion
Well, that pretty much describes this household. I wake up each morning to the touch of ice cold feet rubbing up and down my calves. This is my six-year-old son who sneaks into my bed while I'm still sleeping. After telling him to knock it off and leave me alone, my five-year-old daughter wanders in and wriggles in between us. The day has not officially begun until these two begin their daily ritual of kicking each other and screaming about who gets to lay near mommy. I ignore it until the girl kicks the boy in the face and I command them to exit my room immediately.
The two little kids race downstairs while I begrudgingly drag my very cumbersome and pregnant body after them. [Note: In our family there are three divisions of children - there are the big kids, which includes my 13-year-old and my 10-year-old, the little kids who you have just met, and the baby, who will not make his official appearance until November.]
We scrounge in the kitchen for something edible. Long ago I gave up trying cook breakfast because none of my children are ever willing to eat the same thing at the same time, and rather than try to please four different people, I let them root around for whatever suits them. It's not pleasant, but it works.
My ten-year-old eventually emerges from his nightly hibernation and immediately begins teasing and hassling the little kids. I tell him to stop, at which point he widens his eyes and responds in complete seriousness, "But I wasn't doing anything!"
Things just keep going on from there. I won't bore you with my entire daily routine, but just know that it comprises a delicate balance of helping children with schoolwork (yes, I am a homeschool mom and an utter lunatic), keeping them from maiming one another, trying to get some housework done, and eeking out a few moments of me-time in the process.
Some days are successful, others are not. You will most likely be hearing from me on the unsuccessful days as those are the days that I feel drawn to write. For some strange, inexplicable reason, putting the pains and strains of parenthood into words somehow lessens my burden. Perhaps it is because by writing about my experiences I am actually passing some of burden on to you. So, dear reader, I thank you for lending me your listening ear and relieving me of some of the stress of being a haggard housewife. Together, we just might survive this afterall.
Definition of Housewife: A married woman in charge of a household
Welcome to my life. Yes, I am a worn-out married woman in charge of a household, though whether or not I am actually in charge is debatable. When you live in a family with one husband, four children, two in-laws, two dogs, two birds, two turtles and a fish - the question as to whom is actually running the show remains to be answered. Lately, it seems we are more of an anarchy than the sort of organized democratic society a family is supposed to be.
Definition of Anarchy: A social structure without government or law; utter confusion
Well, that pretty much describes this household. I wake up each morning to the touch of ice cold feet rubbing up and down my calves. This is my six-year-old son who sneaks into my bed while I'm still sleeping. After telling him to knock it off and leave me alone, my five-year-old daughter wanders in and wriggles in between us. The day has not officially begun until these two begin their daily ritual of kicking each other and screaming about who gets to lay near mommy. I ignore it until the girl kicks the boy in the face and I command them to exit my room immediately.
The two little kids race downstairs while I begrudgingly drag my very cumbersome and pregnant body after them. [Note: In our family there are three divisions of children - there are the big kids, which includes my 13-year-old and my 10-year-old, the little kids who you have just met, and the baby, who will not make his official appearance until November.]
We scrounge in the kitchen for something edible. Long ago I gave up trying cook breakfast because none of my children are ever willing to eat the same thing at the same time, and rather than try to please four different people, I let them root around for whatever suits them. It's not pleasant, but it works.
My ten-year-old eventually emerges from his nightly hibernation and immediately begins teasing and hassling the little kids. I tell him to stop, at which point he widens his eyes and responds in complete seriousness, "But I wasn't doing anything!"
Things just keep going on from there. I won't bore you with my entire daily routine, but just know that it comprises a delicate balance of helping children with schoolwork (yes, I am a homeschool mom and an utter lunatic), keeping them from maiming one another, trying to get some housework done, and eeking out a few moments of me-time in the process.
Some days are successful, others are not. You will most likely be hearing from me on the unsuccessful days as those are the days that I feel drawn to write. For some strange, inexplicable reason, putting the pains and strains of parenthood into words somehow lessens my burden. Perhaps it is because by writing about my experiences I am actually passing some of burden on to you. So, dear reader, I thank you for lending me your listening ear and relieving me of some of the stress of being a haggard housewife. Together, we just might survive this afterall.
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