Some days I’m exhausted by 9am.
The process of getting four, independent, listening-impaired, beautiful children out the door for the 8am school bus is comparable to an interval training workout. There are bouts of cardio while searching the house for lost items mixed with strength training of quite literally dragging sixty pound bodies out of bed.
Most days, we make it to the bus stop, with full bellies and a few minutes to spare. Most days, I don’t look too disheveled (I hope), but on the inside I’m feeling ragged and exhausted. I’m feeling grateful for the reprieve of school and guilty that my kids didn’t have a healthy, home-cooked breakfast with a June Cleaver-like mother.
Today, my morning started as typical with a few bleary-eyed, blanket clad kids stumbling through my doorway at 615a while I desperately try to become presentable before the flood gates of life open. Clothes are picked, kids start getting dressed and it all goes down hill.
The oldest has managed to tie his shoe in a bazillion tiny knots, tighter than your jeans at Thanksgiving.
The youngest has the dog in a headlock, attempting to release the leg of her precious baby alive.
The middle daughter is still lying in bed, eyes fixed to Monster High on the television, oblivious of the chaos around her.
But the middle son takes the cake. He is grumbling, huffing and puffing as he tries to tie his shoe. He’s stationed himself in the middle of my bathroom floor, exactly where I need to walk to finish getting ready myself. I ask him to move to another location and when he puts his foot down, he begins frantically searching the bathroom.
“What are you looking for?”
A bit panicked he says, “my shoe is missing!”
…it’s on his foot.
He is frantically searching for his shoe that is solidly on his foot. The same foot he’s using to search for said shoe.
This is my life.
Every morning is a new adventure and every morning I thank and praise the Lord for my life.
They were also to stand every morning to thank and praise the Lord. They were to do the same in the evening.
Some may call it chaos, but I call it family.
I can visiualize each one of them doing this! Love your family!!
I remember those days ☺
You post brings back many memories of those days–struggling to get four out the door as well as myself, as we all headed for the same school (I taught where they attended.) But I found I was in good company when I saw another faculty member going down the hall near lunch time with a loaf of bread under one arm and peanut butter and jelly under the other! “Rough morning,” she explained. She was on her way to her children’s classroom.
Thank you for that chuckle. We all need to know our crazy chaos is normal and learn to find the humor in it.
Love this post. Family and kids and pets and coffee and . . . yes, it’s a lovely chaos.
So pleased to know it wasn’t just me! As one who’s survived those years, let me say there’s some truth in that country song, “You’re gonna miss this…”